Irreversible Encounters and the Point of No Return!

Katherine Olston MFA 2009

Abstract

Irreversible Encounters and the Point of No Return! investigates the politics of Otherness through an examination of the position of the Westerner as Other within the context of Thailand. The project initially explores Otherness as a construction in general and then focuses specifically on the configuration of Otherness within Thai society, and its role in the enactment of core, interlinked ideals of Thai self-identification and nationhood. The research project considers the particular historical, political, cultural and societal factors that have contributed to contemporary Thai perceptions of the Westerner, or ‘farang’ as Other in relation to the Thai Self.

Through sculpture and video installation the art practice delves into the intimate space of the experience of being Other, acknowledging the relative nature of identity and examining issues such as the shock of recognising the Self as Other and the subsequent realisation that the Self may simultaneously be Self and Other. The practice examines the barrier between belonging and not belonging, and the desire to traverse this barrier through adaptation and the modification of one’s identity, and the futility of this endeavor.

Irreversible Encounters and the Point of No Return! reveals stereotypes and preconceptions extant in the way we view ourselves and others in order to explore the complexities and contradictions inherent to the process of Othering. Through theory and practice the project provides an insight into just one of those irreversible experiences in our lives where core perceptions of Self, and the way we inhabit the world are fundamentally challenged, forcing us into previously unknown territory, to a place from which we can never return.

2 ORIGINALITY STATEMENT ‘I hereby declare that this submission is my own work and to the best of my knowledge it contains no materials previously published or written by another person, or substantial proportions of material which have been accepted for the award of any other degree or diploma at UNSW or any other educational institution, except where due acknowledgement is made in the thesis. Any contribution made to the thesis by others, with whom I have worked at UNSW or elsewhere, is explicitly acknowledged in the thesis. I also declare that the intellectual content of this thesis is the product of my own work, except to the extent that assistance from others in the project’s design and conception or in style, presentation and linguistic expression is acknowledged.’ Signed ……………………………………………...... Date ……………………………………………......

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Contents

Introduction: The Cosmos of the Unequivocal Self 5

Chapter 1: The Politics of Otherness • The Politics of Otherness 9 • In the Land of the Barbarians 10 • Critiquing Dominant Paradigms of Otherness 15

Chapter 2: The Construction of Otherness in Thailand • The Construction of Otherness in Thailand 18 • ‘Farang’ as Other to the Thai Self 23

Art Works 26

Chapter 3: Falang! Falang! • Falang! Falang! 27 • Falang! Falang! A New Context 28 • The Exotic and Freakish Other: Interrogating the 30 Depiction of Otherness in the work of Orlan.

Chapter 4: This Golden Cosmos Comes Crashing Down • This Golden Cosmos Comes Crashing Down 35 • The Negotiation of Otherness in the work of Mella Jaarsma 37

Chapter 5: Under My Skin • Under My Skin & Under My Skin II 41 • Embodying the In-between: Liminality in the work 42 of Dacchi Dang

Chapter 6: Dok Gluay Maai • Dok Gluay Maai 45 • Contingent Identities: Otherness in the work of ‘Moti Roti’ 49

Bibliography 53

Photo Credits 56

4

Introduction: The Cosmos of the Unequivocal Self

Background Between 1999 and 2005 I spent a total of five years living and working in Chiang Mai in northern Thailand. The photo in figure 1 was taken in 1999 during a visit to the Karen village of Nalutar, in the province of Chiang Mai. I was invited by a German anthropologist to attend the wedding of a young woman to a man from a neighbouring village. Upon arriving I was ushered into a stilted bamboo and wooden hut and given a long, white, embroidered sack- like dress to wear for the ceremony. The traditional hand-woven dress is worn by the hill tribe’s unmarried women, and as most are not even twenty I was viewed as a strange anomaly, being twenty-four at the time.

Having only been in Thailand for a few months when invited to attend the wedding I had accepted keenly, viewing it as a rare opportunity to visit as a guest rather than as a tourist. However, where I had taken for granted that it was I who was going there to observe the ‘foreign’ ways of an ‘exotic’ tribe, in fact the situation was the complete opposite. As I followed my hosts up a steep incline to the site of the ceremony, the entire village stopped to look, laugh and comment upon my appearance. Everybody, it seemed, was intrigued by my foreignness, my exoticness, my essential Otherness.

The experience of my own Otherness was equally present in my interaction with mainstream Thai society; people stared at me and made gross generalisations about me and my ‘Western’ culture. I was assumed to be wealthy, to take off all my clothes when I visited the beach, to like ‘free sex’ (promiscuity) and to not care about my parents. In addition, I had a new name, farang1, the Thai word for white westerner whether they be American, French, German, Swiss, Australian, Italian etc. The word farang can be used as both a noun and an adjective to describe anything associated with western culture, for example -

Farang Western person Wattanatam farang Western culture Aahaan farang Western food Paasaa farang Western language Kwaam kit farang Western thinking

Thus, despite the fact that there is infinite variation within the cultures, food, language and belief systems of western cultures, in being a farang, it seemed, I was part of one great amorphous, homogenous farang mass. This kind of generalising view can also be observed in Australia with the use of the term ‘Asians’ to refer to all people of Asian appearance, similarly ignoring the vast

1 Although the word ‘farang’ is generally a neutral word it can also be used in a derogatory manner depending on the context. The origins of the word, ’farang’ have been widely debated, for a basic etymology see http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Farang. Please note: All Thai words included in the paper have been transliterated in accordance with The Thai Royal Institute system of transliteration.

5 diversity present within Asian cultures.

Whilst many of the stereotypes regarding westerners in Thailand may well be grounded in a certain amount of fact, they are generalisations nonetheless and to discover that you are subject to judgment based upon them breeds a certain level of frustration and confusion. The key issue here, however, is that my fundamental perception of Self had been challenged. Where I had previously conceived of Others in relation to my Self, I was amazed to realise that, as a white westerner in Australia, I’d never before experienced what it was like to be in the minority, to be Other. Consequently, the artwork I produced whilst living in Thailand, demonstrated an investigation into my identity within the ‘new’ cultural sphere of Thai society and a growing awareness of my position as Other2; many of these works and ideas have informed and inspired the artworks contained in this research project.

The Research Project The project, Irreversible Encounters and the Point of No Return!, investigates the politics of Otherness through an examination of the position of the Westerner as Other within the context of Thailand. The project initially explores Otherness as a construction in general, maintaining that the construction of Otherness is an inherently human compulsion extant in all cultures and communities, whether they be local, national or global. The project then focuses specifically on the configuration of Otherness within Thai society and its role in the enactment of core, interlinked ideals of Thai self- identification and nationhood. The project considers the particular historical, political, cultural and societal factors that have contributed to contemporary Thai perceptions of the Westerner, or ‘farang’ as Other in relation to the Thai Self.

Through sculpture and video installation the art practice delves into the intimate space of the experience of being Other. The practice functions as a mirror to the artist’s personal experience of Otherness, progressing and morphing in stages in accordance with existential revelations pertaining to identity. Documenting a fundamental paradigm shift, the project moves from a ‘world’ or ‘cosmos’ in which the central position of Self (as a white, Anglo- Australian) is assumed and unequivocal, through the dawning recognition and ultimate acknowledgement of the Self’s potential to also occupy the position of Other.

The project’s works are,

• Falang! Falang! • This Golden Cosmos Comes Crashing Down

2 The performance Sticks (2003), for example, manifested a desire to physically chart the foreign environment in which I found myself, and the performance installation Beauty Suit, for which I received an Asialink Performing Arts Residency Grant in 2003, explored cross-cultural constructions of beauty. Furthermore, the installation, jing-jo!, exhibited at Bangkok University Gallery (2005) represented an attempt to understand the multifaceted experience of Otherness as a farang in Thailand.

6 • Under My Skin and Under My Skin II • Dok Gluay Maai

This Golden Cosmos Comes Crashing Down signals the repositioning of the Self as Other, and begins to examine the subsequent desire to be part of the dominant culture, to no longer be an outsider. Falang! Falang! demonstrates a similar impulse to traverse the barrier between belonging and not-belonging. In this work, however, we witness a deep craving on behalf of the performer to obliterate all signifiers of Otherness in an attempt to fit-in in mainstream Thai society. The frustration and ultimate acknowledgement that it is a futile endeavour in many ways is reflected in both these works. This Golden Cosmos Comes Crashing Down and Falang! Falang! deal with identity in a similar way in that they both tackle the idea of Self and Other as fixed and opposing entities; the premise is that, in order to belong to the dominant group one must forsake one’s own identity completely, and that one cannot be both Self and Other. What subverts this premise is the dynamic generated by the presence of the audience; through the audience’s identification with the performer who, in the work is Other, she becomes Self, and thus the dynamic and constant play between positions of Self and Other is emphasised. The potential of the work to be read in a variety of ways depending on the subject position of the audience further highlights the contingent nature of formations of identity.

Building on the idea that identity constructions are largely reliant on context, Under My Skin & Under My Skin II merge iconic elements from Thailand and Australia creating an ‘artefact’ that is simultaneously exotic and familiar. The artefact, which is born of both cultures, yet belongs fully to neither, occupies a liminal, or third position. The work contests the dichotomy of Self/Other constructs and examines the possibility that one may simultaneously be Self and Other. Thus, once again the contradictions and complexities inherent to the mechanisms of Othering are exposed.

The project’s final work, Dok Gluay Maai marks another major paradigm shift in the psychology of the project. Where Under My Skin & Under My Skin II present a liminal space in which elements from two cultures are overlaid to reflect a sense of a hybridised identity, Dok Gluay Maai highlights the multivalent, interrelated, ever-shifting and morphing interplay between conceptions of Self and Other. In the work fixity dissolves: Self becomes Other, which in turn becomes Self judging Self-as-Other. The farang dancer, initially Other, becomes ensconced in the dominant society to the extent that she begins to judge herself in accordance with Thai constructions of farang. She thus internalises these external constructions of Otherness and becomes, in a simultaneously marginal-yet-central way, part of the dominant Thai culture. The work reveals the constantly shifting and often elusive and equivocal nature of identity.

Irreversible Encounters and the Point of No Return! explores the complexities and contradictions inherent to the process of Othering and being Other, revealing stereotypes and preconceptions extant in the way we view ourselves and others. Through theory and practice the project provides an

7 insight into experiences in our lives where core perceptions of Self and the way we inhabit the world are fundamentally challenged, forcing us into previously unknown territory, to a place from which we can never return.

8

Chapter 1: The Politics of Otherness

Just as the East has long been considered exotic Other to the West, so too has the West been perceived as exotic Other to the East. Thailand’s highly successful advertising campaign with the slogan ‘Amazing Thailand’, for example, presented Thailand as exotic and alluring Other to a Western audience; on the other hand, the ornate cabinet doors in figure 2, depict a European and an Arab as exotic and intriguing Others in relation to the Thai Self. Despite the fact that the West is currently economically and geo- politically dominant and that western cultural and theoretical discourse consistently posits the west as centre, it is clear that the construction of Otherness is not the exclusive domain of the West. Edward Said aptly illustrates this point in relation to the ‘Arab world’. ‘The myths about America and the West in the Arab world are equally clichéd: all Americans are oversexed and they have large feet and they eat too much. The result is that where there should be a human presence there’s a vacuum, and where there should be exchange and dialogue and communication, there’s a debased kind of non-exchange.’ 3

Consequently, it would appear that most cultures, when dominant in their own domain are not apt to think of themselves as Other. As Franz Fanon states, ‘As long as the black man is among his own, he will have no occasion, except in minor internal conflicts, to experience his being through others.’4 Similarly, Thai people, providing they are accepted as part of the majority culture, are not likely to view themselves as Other. The Westerner, arriving in Thailand then, may perceive them self to be ensconced in, as Said says, a ‘barbarian land’, only to be shocked upon making the discovery that they, and not the ‘exotic’ Thais they have come to see, are in fact the ‘barbarian’, the Other.

Therefore, it must be acknowledged that the Other may be Self, and conversely, the Self, Other. Furthermore, it is imperative to understand that the construction of Otherness is inherent to all communities, whether they be local, national or global. Take, for example, the plethora of Others found within Australia and again within each particular sub-group: black as opposed to white, Asian as opposed to Caucasian, women as opposed to men, straight as opposed to gay; it seems the possibilities are infinite, yet also incredibly limited in their simplistic and binary nature. Nonetheless, the relationship of Self to Other is also complex and contradictory; the Other, whilst being desired as exotic and alluring, may simultaneously be derided and demonised.

3 Edward Said, Edward Said: Between Two Cultures, in Power, Politics and Culture: Interviews with Edward W. Said, edited and with an introduction by Gauri Viswanathan. (Bloomsbury, 2004) pp. 239. 4 Franz Fanon, Black Skin, White Masks, Translated by Charles Lam Markmann, (Pluto Press, 1986, [1967]), p.109.

9

In the Land of the Barbarians

Edward Said’s seminal text 'Orientialism' explores the construction of Otherness in terms of the way that the West, especially throughout the period of French and English imperialism from the 18th century to the mid 20th century perceived the Orient, its peoples and cultures. Although Said's text focuses on the way the West constructed a discourse of Otherness in regards to the Orient, the implications of ‘Orientalism’ reach far beyond the dichotomy of Orient verses Occident, demonstrating that the construction of Otherness is a universal and inherently human compulsion, and that the process of Othering is not exclusive to the West.5 His text is particularly compelling and pertinent to the concerns of this project in that he offers a means by which to understand the construction and delineation of an ‘Other’ in opposition to the ‘Self’. Moreover, Said specifically provides a detailed backdrop or context within which to understand prevalent contemporary attitudes towards, and relations between the Orient and the Occident. It is important to note that ‘Orientalism’ is not employed here as a means to critique Western imperialism, but rather in its capacity to understand Otherness as a construction.

Said, in his articulation of ‘Orientalism as a form of thought for dealing with the foreign’6 offers wider insight into the mechanisms of the construction of Otherness, and draws attention to a complex and inherently flawed system by which one group (in this case the West) has constructed an Other (in this case the East). It is also acknowledged here that presenting the East and West as dichotomous entities is problematic and overly simplistic. Nevertheless, the fact remains that such rudimentary oppositions are persistently employed and imagined as a means to explain perceived difference, justify oppression and subjugation and even to forge a sense of unity within various groups of people in opposition to others, and as such cannot be ignored. Indeed, such dichotomies make possible the very ‘Othering’ which is discussed here, and the process of creating an Other is likewise a process of over-simplification which involves the construction of superficial and binary opposites, ‘us/them’, ‘local/foreigner’, ‘civilised/uncivilised’, ‘self/other’.

Yet what is it that has compelled and continues to compel humans to construct such simplistic dichotomies of Otherness? Initially, we may argue that the process of creating an Other, as a definable, recognisable category is a means to understand or describe the Self and the world we inhabit. Referencing Claude Levi-Strauss and his ‘science of the concrete’, Said says, ‘A primitive tribe, for example, assigns a definite place, function, and

5 Aware, perhaps of potential misreadings of his work as anti-Western, in the revised introduction to the 2003 edition of ‘Orientalism’ Said emphasises the broader concerns of the book, ’for all its urgent worldly references [‘Orientalism’] is still a book about culture, ideas, history, and power, rather than Middle Eastern politics tout court.’ Edward Said, Orientalism, (Penguin Books 2003 [1978]), p.xii. 6 Edward Said, Orientalism, (Penguin Books, 2001 [1978]), p. 45. Please note all further references to Orientalism refer to the 2001 edition.

10 significance to every leafy species in its immediate environment … the mind requires order, and order is achieved by discriminating and taking note of everything, placing everything…in a secure, refindable place, therefore giving things some role to play in the economy of objects and identities that make up an environment.’7 By categorising objects thus, we are afforded an understanding of them and their place and value within the environment in relation to ourselves.

Furthermore, that which is unknown is generally not understood and is therefore often perceived as a threat in some way. By describing them, unknown objects, peoples, cultures etc. become familiar and are then able to be conceptually integrated into our known world, thus, mitigating the threat of the unknown, if only temporarily. Said writes of Aeschylus’s play, ‘The Persians’, ‘the Orient is transformed from a very far distant and often threatening Otherness into figures that are relatively familiar.’ 8 Yet the Other is described and made familiar only so far as to alleviate fear of the unknown, or the perceived threat it embodies, and thus it is never truly integrated (nor was it ever intended to be) into the world of the describer. The very practice of designating or describing an Other is, therefore, simultaneously an act of inclusion and exclusion. It is rendered familiar yet its separateness and exoticness is maintained. The problem is that the means by which the Other is described is always subjective, serving in some way the agenda of the describer, whether this be to mitigate a threat or to affirm the superiority of one over another. In order to destabilise the threat of the unknown, too, the Other is generally emasculated and rendered inferior, thus solidifying the superior and dominant position of the describer, the Self.

The desire to order the world, make it ‘knowable’ and/or hold the unknown at bay by controlling it manifests in the way that humans geographically and spiritually inhabit the earth. Said writes, ‘A group of people living on a few acres of land will set up boundaries between their land and its immediate surroundings and the territory beyond, which they call "the land of the barbarians". In other words, this universal practice of designating in one's mind a familiar space which is "ours" and an unfamiliar space beyond "ours" which is "theirs" is a way of making geographical distinctions that can be entirely arbitrary. I use the word arbitrary here because imaginary geography of the "our land-barbarian land" variety does not require that the barbarians acknowledge the distinction. It is enough for "us" to set up these boundaries in our own minds; "they" become "they" accordingly, and both their territory and their mentality are designated as different from "ours". To a certain extent modern and primitive societies seem thus to derive a sense of their identities negatively.’9 Ironically, then, in seeking to describe the Other and to differentiate ‘us’ from ‘them’ we are actually describing ourselves; we understand what we are, by articulating what we perceive we are not.

Moreover, this process need only involve a very rudimentary awareness of the Other, as all that is required is that we set ‘them’ up as a negative version of

7 Ibid, p. 53. 8 Ibid, p. 21. 9 Ibid, p. 54.

11 ‘us’. As Said states, ‘often the sense in which someone feels himself to be not-foreign is based on a very unrigorous idea of what is ‘out there’, beyond one’s own territory. All kinds of suppositions, associations, and fictions appear to crowd the unfamiliar space outside one’s own.’10 This often results in subjective, superficial and stereotyped perceptions of Otherness as illustrated by Said above when he outlines the preconceptions about Americans in the Arab world. In addition, as Abdel Malek offers, ‘[the Orientalists] adopt an essentialist conception of the countries, nations and peoples of the Orient under study, a conception which expresses itself though a characterised ethnist typology…and will soon proceed with it towards racism.’11

The process of understanding or describing ourselves in relation to the Other often involves demonising the Other, perhaps in subconscious acknowledgement of the fear of the unknown and of difference. In relation to ‘Orientalism’, Said says, ‘The Oriental is irrational, depraved (fallen), childlike, ‘different’; thus the European is rational, virtuous, mature, ‘normal’.’12 In this way the Other is the negative manifestation of the Self and, as such, may bare the blame for all that is perverted, dysfunctional and detestable in the Self. This phenomenon is vividly illustrated in Salman Rushdie’s novel ‘The Satanic Verses’ when the main character, Saladin Chamcha, is imprisoned in an immigration detention centre as he attempts to return to his adopted home of England following a short trip to India. Here, he is bewildered and distraught to discover that overnight he has transmogrified into a goat-ish Beelzebub, complete with hooves and horns and putrid breath. He learns of others too, who have been transformed, ‘businessmen from Nigeria who have grown sturdy tails…[and]…a group of holidaymakers from Senegal who were doing no more than changing planes when they were turned into slippery snakes.’13 The symbolism is plainly evident, as those that are designated as Other in Britain (and in the West in general) take on the physical form of the negative characteristics often attributed to them in racist rhetoric; the devious, untrustworthy ‘slippery snake’, the primitive, odorous, pagan, subhuman, goat creature. These traits, of course, stand in opposition to the traits an ideal European might be thought to embody: trustworthy, clean, Christian and civilised. The detainees have taken on the exaggerated physical forms that emphasise their Otherness. What they are perceived to be - that which serves to delineate their Otherness - is projected onto them by the people and system that has incarcerated them. Chamcha asks a fellow detainee (who himself has become a manticore) what has happened. ‘“They describe us,” the other whispered solemnly, “That’s all. They have the power of description, and we succumb to the pictures they construct.”’14

Thus it is evident that the ability to describe affords a certain kind of power over the Other, specifically when this description is produced in such a context as to enable it to gain currency and authority, as was the case throughout the period of European imperialism, and especially when the entity

10 Ibid, p. 54. 11 Quoted in ibid, p.97. 12 Ibid, p.40. 13 Salman Rushdie, The Satanic Verses, (Vintage, 2006 [1988]), p.168. 14 Ibid, p. 168.

12 doing the describing is in a militarily superior position. ‘The other feature,’ says Said, ‘of Oriental-European relations was that Europe was always in a position of strength, not to say domination.’15 Take, for instance, the example of Flaubert16 and an Egyptian courtesan. ‘There is very little consent to be found…in the fact that Flaubert’s encounter with…[her]… produced a widely influential model of the Oriental woman; she never spoke of herself, she never represented her emotions, presence or history. He spoke for and represented her. He was foreign, comparatively wealthy, male, and these were historical facts of domination…’17 Flaubert, from his dominant position, had the power to generate a profoundly generalised and anti-empirical stereotype of the ‘Oriental’ woman for the consumption of the West. In this example the authority the West assumed over the east is evident and the courtesan, Kuchuk Hanem, had no agency in describing herself; she was, in effect, silenced and spoken for.18

It is important to note that the position of dominance and the superiority assumed by the Occident over the Orient is/was by no means unintentional. The process of Othering in regards to ‘Orientalism’ and in general often involves the deliberate exclusion and denigration of the Other as a means to gain and/or maintain control and justify subjugation, oppression, war and genocide. Consider, for example, the way that Australian Aboriginal people were seen as Other, racially inferior and sub-human by the European settlers and the colonial administration, thus somehow justifying the systematic murdering of thousands of aboriginal people. Another example is the way that the Thai government similarly views Burmese refugees; in 2009 it was reported19 that around 1800 Muslim Burmese seeking asylum in Thailand were set adrift with scant provision of food and water, left to their own devices and deserted to die by the Thai military. This example reinforces the fact that the Western powers are by no means unique in perpetrating violence against their constructed Other. Indeed, the ‘us’/’them’, ‘self’/’other’ division is primarily a hostile one, as Said states, ‘I mean to ask whether there is any way of avoiding the hostility expressed by the division, say, of men into “us” (Westerners) and “them” (Orientals). For such divisions are generalities whose use historically and actually has been to press the importance of the distinction between some men and some other men, usually towards not especially admirable ends.’20

15 Said, Orientalism, p. 40. 16 French writer, Gustave Flaubert (1821-1880) is most famous for his novel, Madame Bovary, published in 1857. 17 Ibid, p. 6. 18 Whilst it could be argued that this example is more demonstrative of the subjugated position of women in general at the time, I would argue that this example aptly illustrates power relations between the East and West regardless of gender, and that men were presented in a similar way throughout Orientalist discourse. This view is confirmed by Said when he argues, ‘…Flaubert’s situation of strength in relation to Kuchuk Hanem was not an isolated instance. It fairly stands for the pattern of relative strength between East and West, and the discourse about the Orient that it enabled.’ Ibid, p. 6. 19 Tom Allard, Survivors relive ordeal of being set adrift by military, Feb 4, 2009, www.smh.com.au/news/world/survivors-relive-ordeal-of-being-set-adrift-by- military/2009/02/03/1233423223277.html 20 Ibid, p. 45.

13 Finally, another important aspect of the construction of Otherness is the powerful allure of the exotic Other. The very difference that alienates and sets the Other apart simultaneously attracts the Self to it. The French and English colonialists, whilst seeking to rule over the Orient, were also infinitely attracted to and intrigued by many aspects of it. This fascination may be observed in the great body of literature generated throughout the colonial period, which was inspired by the Orient,21 or in the blue and white Willow pattern porcelain kitchenware made in England in the 18th century, which used Chinese motifs. Furthermore, the contemporary West’s attraction to the exotic East is manifest in the fascination with all things Asian, from the increased number of Western Buddhists22 to the art world’s hunger for Asian artists23 to the immense number of Western tourists who visit Asia every year.24 Similarly, the East has depicted the West as the exotic Other and aspects of Western culture have been coveted, desired and emulated. In countries such as Japan, Thailand, Vietnam and China, for example, bleparoplasty and rhinoplasty (where the Asian patient is given more ‘Western-looking’ eyelids and nose, respectively) are popular cosmetic surgery procedures, which are believed to heighten social and career prospects25. In parts of South East Asia, too, white skin is viewed as more attractive than tanned skin and skin bleaching products, including deodorant, body lotion and nipple-pinkening creams abound.

21 Examples include, Samuel Taylor Coleridge's Kubla Khan (1816), Lord Byron's The Giaour (1813) and Frances Sheridan's The History of Nourjahad (1767). 22 In Australia, for example, the Australian Bureau of Statistics reports that Buddhism is the most common non-Christian religion at 2.1% of the population, and since 1996, the amount of followers has doubled to 420,000. http://www.abs.gov.au/ausstats/[email protected]/7d12b0f6763c78caca257061001cc588/6ef598989d b79931ca257306000d52b4!OpenDocument 23 Charles Saatchi, for example, chose to feature Chinese art at the opening of the new Saatchi Gallery in London, 2008. 24 From 2007 to 2008 international visitors to the Asia Pacific alone rose by 8.9% to nearly 100 million. http://www.pata.org/patasite/index.php?id=111 25 Sander L. Gilman, Ethnicity and Aesthetic Surgery in Aesthetic Surgery, ed Angelika Taschen, (Taschen, 2005)

14 Critiquing Dominant Paradigms of Otherness

Cornel West, in ‘The New Cultural Politics of Difference’ emphasises the need to critique dominant paradigms of Otherness. He articulates, ‘Distinctive features of the new cultural politics of difference are to trash the monolithic and homogenous in the name of diversity, multiplicity, and heterogeneity; to reject the abstract, general, and universal in light of the concrete, specific, and particular; and to historicize, contextualize, and pluralize by highlighting the contingent, provisional, variable, tentative, shifting and changing.’26 It is, however, essential that in deconstructing Otherness in terms of the way that the West has constructed the East, the ‘historical facts of dominance’ to recall Said, are not simplistically and dichotomously reinforced.

Due to the fact that Western cultural theoretical discourse has been based within a Western arena and largely intended for a self-referential Western academic audience, the West continues to occupy the dominant and central position as Self within this context. Post-colonial discussions of Otherness have focused, necessarily, on the Other as Western construct, referring mainly to the peoples of the ‘subject races’ of Western colonial rule. As the repercussions of European colonialism are still vastly evident today it is essential that critical discourse continues to redress the balance of power in relation to cultural authority and representation. However, in doing so, there are a number of concerns that must be addressed. Firstly, the inclination of some Western scholars to accept the voice of the Other as an unquestioned, and over-arching authority on the culture of the Other needs to be examined. Secondly, the often over-compensatory and protective impulse displayed by the West towards the Other in this context requires examination.

In order, perhaps, to ameliorate Western guilt at the oppression and degradation visited upon the ‘subject races’ throughout the colonial period there has been much needed focus on the agency of the subaltern, or previously oppressed and silenced Other. Thongchai Winichakul in his book ‘Siam Mapped’ addresses the issue, saying, ‘As a correction, apology, or cure for what the Orientalists had done before, this guilty conscience has pushed Western scholars in the opposite direction – that is, to recognize indigenous perspective’.27 Whilst in itself this is not problematic, Winichakul points out that this attitude, when taken to the extreme has led to ‘uncritical intellectual cooperation by pro-indigenous Western scholars who have tended to accept the established views of the Siamese elite as the legitimate discourse about Thailand.’28 Consequently, by not wanting to appear racist, the Western scholar may blindly accept the views of a certain indigenous authority (in this case the Siamese elite) therefore ignoring the power relations present within the Thai context. The heterogeneous nature of the Other is thus denied by the Western scholar, and the ‘historical facts of dominance’ are perpetuated; the

26 Cornel West, The New Cultural Politics of Difference, in The Cultural Studies Reader, 2nd edition, (Routledge, 2001 [1993]), p 257. 27 Thongchai Winichakul, Siam Mapped: A History of a Geo-Body of a Nation, (University of Hawaii Press, 1994), p. 7. 28 Ibid, p. 7.

15 views of the dominant body, the Siamese elite, are once again privileged. There is little difference between the dynamics of dominance operating between Orientalists and the East and those operating between the Siamese elite and the general population of Thailand. In both instances there is the presence of ‘the official or hegemonic discourse operating in its own particular cosmos over the subordinated or marginal ones.’ 29

In addition, the specific focus on the indigenous authority, or ‘Third World voice’30 further perpetuates the dichotomous and short-sighted distinctions of East and West in that certain ‘Third World’ scholars have come to represent the ‘authentic’ voice of the Other to the West, in much the same way as Flaubert’s Egyptian courtesan (above) came to symbolise Oriental women in general. Qualifying as Other in the Western context, critic Gayatri Spivak acknowledges the tokenism involved in harvesting the voice of the Other, and also the need to look beyond simplistic generalisations when she says, ‘Certain varieties of the Indian elite are at best native informants for first world intellectuals interested in the voice of the Other. But one must nevertheless insist that the colonized subaltern subject is irretrievably heterogeneous.’31

Moreover, the emphasis on de-silencing the Other, on ‘opening up’ a platform from which the subaltern can speak is problematic in that the West’s position of dominance is reinforced by the very act of ‘allowing’ or ‘inviting’ the Other to speak. Spivak says ‘The real demand is that, when I speak from that position, [as a ‘Third World’ person] I should be listened to seriously; not with that kind of benevolent imperialism, really, which simply says that because I happen to be Indian or whatever…A hundred years ago it was impossible for me to speak, for the precise reason that makes it only too possible for me to speak in certain circles now. I see in that a kind of reversal, which is again a little suspicious.’32 Privileging and exoticising the voice of the Other serves, not only to cement its status as Other but also perpetuates the superior position assumed by the West throughout colonialism where it was assumed that the subject races were inferior and incapable of independent governance or self- determination, and thus in need of the guidance and protection of the knowledgeable and worldly West33. By continuing to designate voices such as Spivak’s as Other and by privileging them specifically because of their Otherness, the West is able to maintain its position as Self, as the centre ‘reaching out’, benevolently to the periphery.

Another problem springing from the compensatory expression of ‘benevolent imperialism’ is that it has led to a strange kind of inverse silencing where the

29 Ibid, p. 9. 30 The term ‘Third World voice’ is employed by Gayatri Spivak in Gayatri Chakravorty Spivak Questions of Multi-culturalism, Interview with Sneja Gunew in The Post-Colonial Critic- Interviews, Strategies, Dialogues, (Routledge, 1990), p. 59. 31 Gayatri Chakravorty Spivak, Can the Subaltern Speak? in The Post-Colonial Studies Reader, ed. Bill Ashcroft, Gareth Griffiths, Helen Tiffin, (Routledge, 1997), p. 26. 32 Spivak, Questions of Multi-culturalism, in The Post-Colonial Critic-Interviews, Strategies, Dialogues, p. 60. 33 See Jamaica Kincaid’s essay, A Small Place in The Post-Colonial Studies Reader, ed. Bill Ashcroft, Gareth Griffiths, Helen Tiffin, (Routledge, 1997), p. 92-94.

16 voice of the Westerner is seen as less valid or ‘authentic’, and to speak at all is seen as perpetuating colonial dominance. This can also be observed in Winichakul’s account above of Western scholars’ uncritical acceptance of an indigenous perspective. Spivak, too, describes this phenomenon, ‘I will have an undergraduate class, let’s say, a young white male student, politically- correct, who will say: “I am only a bourgeois white male, I can’t speak.” In that situation-it’s peculiar, because I am in the position of power and their teacher and, on one hand, I am not a bourgeois white male-I say to them: “Why not develop a certain degree of rage against the history that has written such an abject script for you that you are silenced?” Then you begin to investigate what it is that silences you, rather than take this very deterministic position…In one way you take a risk to criticize, of criticizing something which is Other-something which you used to dominate. I say that you have to take a certain risk: to say “I won’t criticize” is salving your conscience…’34 The problem here is that this kind of protective and condescending impulse as expressed by the ‘white male’ or the Western scholar whilst seeking to ameliorate destructive and racist residual colonial attitudes actually perpetuates them by declaring the Other in need of protection. To compensate is, thus, to perpetuate the construction of Otherness and to further solidify the dichotomous ‘us’ and ‘them’ divide, denying the multifaceted nature of the Other. As Spivak says, ‘the moment you say, “This is a white position”, again you are homogenizing. I think there is safety in specificity rather than in those labels.’35

In this context, the inability to comprehend the Self as having the potential to be simultaneously Self and Other is inherently problematic as it serves to further reinforce the ‘historical facts of dominance’. We fail to understand that just as the West is Self in it’s own cosmos, so too may the East, within its own dominion, assume the position of Self. This is aptly illustrated when, referring to the way that Thailand has constructed Westerners, or farang as Other in relation to the Thai Self, Pattana Kitiarsa says, ‘In its intellectual enterprise to define farang, Siam has demonstrated its active and articulated faculties and authority as an “acting self”.’ 36 Thus, Siam looks outwards from the centre, designating Others in relation to its Self.

34 Spivak, Questions of Multi-culturalism, in The Post-Colonial Critic-Interviews, Strategies, Dialogues, p. 62-63. 35 Ibid, p. 60. 36 Pattana Kitiarsa, Farang as Siamese Occidentialism, Asia Research Institute, Working Paper, No. 49, September 2005, www.ari.nus.edu.sg/pub/wps.htm. p. 6.

17

Chapter 2:The Construction of Otherness in Thailand

The video stills (figures 3 - 6) are taken from a popular Thai movie, ‘The Protector’.37 The movie is significant in the way it presents cultures that have been depicted as Other in relation to the Thai Self over the past century. The movie (made in 2005) presents these Others in clear adherence with stereotypical Thai views of them, illustrating the enduring nature of such attitudes. All non-Thais are Other and are depicted against the predominate ideal of Thainess; the Vietnamese are depicted as immoral and unscrupulous, the Chinese as cunning and malicious and the Westerners as brutish, aggressive, uncouth and at other times well-meaning, if a little simple-minded. In contrast to these traits, the central Thai character is portrayed as being of humble origins, and as being intellectually and morally superior to his (literal) enemies. What is particularly pertinent about the movie in the context of this research is the way it so eloquently illustrates the Thai perception of Self, or as Winichakul calls it, the ‘We-self’.38 The movie highlights the way in which the Thai are the central characters in their own narrative, and clearly locates Westerners, Vietnamese, and Chinese as Other within the Thai context. In fact, like the Orientalists, the definition of a Thai identity (Thainess) intrinsically requires the existence of Others. As Maurizio Peleggi points out, ‘The promotion of a national identity since the beginning of the twentieth century necessitated the textual and visual configuration of Others in relation to or against which the Thai self could be fashioned, defended and measured.’39

From an historical perspective, the drawing up of national borders in the early twentieth century in response to a volatile geo-political climate and territorial threats posed by colonial powers prompted a nation-building project characterized by uniformity. The diverse range of ethnicities inhabiting what is contemporary Thailand became ‘united’ or perhaps, more appropriately, forced together under an ideal of homogenous identity in the name of establishing a cohesive nation state that would be recognizable and accepted on the world stage. This uniform cultural ideal was based on the dominant Thai-speaking ethnic group, the Central Thais, which included the ruling elite situated in and around Bangkok40. As Peleggi states, ‘Because the process of state formation and nation building was initiated by the Bangkok monarchy, what became the hegemonic ‘national’ culture was patterned largely after the culture of the central Thais.’41 Thus, ethnic diversity was ideologically engulfed in the drive towards the creation of an homogenised Thai identity and this process was seen as integral to Thailand’s nation building endeavor. Expanding on initiatives taken by King Chulalongkorn before him, King

37 Prachya Pinkaew, The Protector, (2005). 38 Winichakul, Siam Mapped: A History of a Geo-Body of a Nation, p.12. 39 Maurizio Peleggi, Thailand: The Worldly Kingdom, (Reaktion Books, 2007), p. 193. 40 This extremely narrow and homogenized concept of Thainess persists in contemporary Thai notions of identity, and largely ignores the diverse backgrounds - ethnic hill tribes including Karen, Hmong, Akha, Lahu, Lisu, people of Chinese, Khmer, Laotian, and Malaysian descent as well as ethnic Tai (now Thai), and more recently Westerners of various backgrounds and luk khrueng (literally ‘half-child’, someone who has one Thai and one Western parent) – of the peoples inhabiting the geo-body that is present day Thailand. 41 Peleggi, Thailand: The Worldly Kingdom, p. 47.

18 Vajiravudh (1910-1925), for example, embarked on a campaign to promote ‘A national culture based on a common language, uniform religious practice [Buddhism] and shared historical memory.’42 He maintained that this kind of uniformity was essential to ensuring the success and power of the nation, saying in 1914, that, ‘When every Siamese shall begin to think and speak as one man, then will the time have arrived when there will be no longer any anxiety for the well-being of our nation.’43 Peleggi, too, writes of the way that Siam’s rulers, before and during the 1930s, instigated a process of ‘fostering linguistic, religious and cultural uniformity to instill a common identity in the ethnically diverse population…and modifying social customs so that they befit a civilized nation…’44 Here, it is important to note that in using the word ‘civilized’ he refers directly to the attitude of the rulers of the time towards their nation building project which was influenced by nineteenth century ideals, largely gleaned from contact with the West, about what it meant to be modern, advanced and ‘civilized’. An example of this is seen in the initiatives of the government taken under Field Marshal Plaek Phibun Songkhram. In power initially from 1938-1944 he actively promoted a homogenous Thai identity, through a series of ‘Cultural Mandates’45, which were meant to enforce and define a unified notion of Thainess and stipulated ‘civilised’ modes of behavior. The first mandate46, which changed the name of the country from ‘Siam’ to ‘Thailand’, was decidedly controversial. The new name ‘Thailand’ was viewed as ethnically chauvinistic in that it favoured the Thais over all other ethnic groups, and conflated nation with ethnicity, in contrast to the more pluralistic ‘Siam’, which denoted a more regional or territorial connection.

Ironically, a number of the ‘civilised’ modes of behaviour advocated by Field Marshal Phibun whilst being intended to protect and define Thai identity simultaneously suppressed and ridiculed particular Thai habits in favour of Western modes of behavior. The Mandates, for example, defined sarongs as ‘improper dress’47 and advocated the adoption of Western styles of dress like the wearing of hats and gloves. Further, the stipulation that all men should kiss their wives before going to work,48and the prevention of betel nut chewing was introduced. Craig Reynolds points out that the suppression of these Thai habits, was ‘in order to save embarrassment in the eyes of Westerners, who might regard such practices as uncivilized.’49 These initiatives undoubtedly reflect the Thai elite’s desire to be accepted (and ensure the acceptance of the nation) as equals within the colonial atmosphere of the first half of the century. Reynolds offers, ‘Parity with the West was a preoccupation of the Thai elite at this time, and…applied to dress and deportment as well as to

42 Ibid, p. 52. 43 King Vajiravudh quoted in ibid p. 235. 44 Ibid, p. 22. 45 The ‘Cultural Mandates’ were written between 1939 and 1942. The term ‘Cultural Mandates’ is an English translation of the Thai, see Craig J. Reynolds, Seditious Histories: Contesting Thai and Southeast Asian Pasts, (University of Washington Press, 2006), p.248, for a detailed explanation of the etymology of the term. 46 Introduced in 1939. 47 Reynolds, Seditious Histories: Contesting Thai and Southeast Asian Pasts, p.250. 48 Ibid, p. 249-250. 49 Ibid, p. 251.

19 sovereignty. Being a pure and genuine Thai…had to be balanced against behaving in a way acceptable to Westerners.’50 He insightfully continues, ‘In fact, this Western standard was as much a construction, an imagining in the minds of…[those]…who conceived and implemented the culture policy, as the “Thai culture” being put forward as authentic and innate.’51

The ‘Cultural Mandates’ were and continue to be extremely influential in the formation of Thai identity, having ‘had a bearing on the national culture fostered by the government of the day and all governments since then…’52 Indeed, the homogenized view of Thainess cultivated throughout the nation- building project has endured and is evident in many aspects of contemporary Thailand. Those who are perceived as un-Thai are Other and remain fixed in their position on the periphery of Thai society. Even though many hill tribe populations have lived on ‘Thai’ soil for centuries, they are still not accepted as Thai; citizenship is often difficult, if not impossible to obtain. This fact, and other overt and covert government policies of discrimination serve to solidify their position as inferior Other to mainstream Thai society. Peleggi asserts, ‘The ethnic minorities in the north and south that account for some 4 percent of Thailand’s total population of 63 millions are geographically, as well as culturally and economically, at the margins of the modern nation-state. Their marginality is rooted not only in demographics but also in government policies that make them second-class citizens at best, when not denying them citizenship outright.’53 Furthermore, for any Westerner living in Thailand, there is the over-riding feeling that you can never be Thai, no matter how long you stay, how well you speak the language, or even if you have luk khrueng children. Winichaikul says, that for many Thais, ‘Thainess, Thailand, Thai people, Thai studies, or whatever Thai, is something the farang can approach but never reach with the utmost intimacy Thai people can. This Thainess is what Thai people belong to and are part of.’54 Obviously, the situation of ethnic minorities is much more dire than that of Westerners who are largely in Thailand voluntarily, however, the fact remains that the dominant notion of Thai identity is exclusive and uniform.

Moreover, the characteristics of the ‘Cultural Mandates’ have heavily influenced the contemporary construction of Thai identity. As an ‘outsider’ (in my case as a Westerner) living in Thailand for an extended period of time, the impenetrable fortress that is Thainess or Thai identity, and the seemingly overt and immoveable belief the general population displays in the existence of it quickly becomes apparent. Its impenetrable nature stems from the fact of its exclusivity; Thainess, it appears, is something you are born with, an innate understanding or sensibility that only those who are Thai can comprehend. As Winichakul writes, ‘there is a widespread assumption that there is such a thing as a common Thai nature or identity: khwampenthai (Thainess). It is believed to have existed for a long time, and all Thai are supposed to be well aware of

50 Ibid, p. 251. 51 Ibid, p. 251. 52 Ibid, p. 248. 53 Peleggi, Thailand: The Worldly Kingdom, p. 40. 54 Winichakul, Siam Mapped: A History of a Geo-Body of a Nation, p. 7.

20 its virture.’55 Whilst what specifically constitutes Thainess is somewhat elusive, general ideals include showing respect for elders, observing religious doctrines (Buddhist), displaying moral goodness, and being polite and ‘cool- headed’ in interactions with others. There is also a widespread belief that a ‘true’ or ‘pure’ essence of Thainess is extant within the rural population. As Winichakul points out, ‘Some people… propagate the idea that Thainess is deeply rooted in the ways of life and the intellect of the people, particularly the peasantry.’56

In constructing Others against which to pit the narrative of Self, the Thai are no exception. Recalling Said, it can be observed that the Thai, too, may arrive at a sense of their own identity negatively and, thus, the construction of Thainess actually relies on the existence of the Other. Particularly since the mid nineteenth century, the promotion of a national Thai identity has depended upon the production of ‘enemies’ who are perceived as a threat to Thainess in all its various manifestations. Winichakul writes, ‘To confirm Thainess, it does not matter if the enemy is relatively abstract or ill defined. The enemy must always be present.’57 Threats to the Thai identity have included Communism, Cambodia, Laos, Vietnam, Burma, the Chinese and the West, among others. This is not to say that the threat posed by some or all of these entities has not been real; however, it must be acknowledged that often what is more important is that they function as an enemy against which to solidify the notion of Self. Thus the threats they supposedly embody may reflect the agendas of the governing body at the time, rather than necessarily reflecting anything concrete about the said ‘enemy’. For example, Peleggi points out that even though the status of the Burmese as enemies has endured, the object of their supposed wrath has shifted ‘from Buddhism to the homeland to the body social,’ he continues, ‘ These shifts underscore the changing anxieties of Thailand’s governors, for whom the Burmese enemy is arguably an allegory for more insidious threats.’58

What is fundamental, then, is that these ‘enemies’ fulfill their role as Other and therefore allow Thainess to stand in binary and righteous opposition. As discussed above with ‘Orientalism’, specific and first hand knowledge of the Other is often vague, even non-existent. ‘Quite often reference to Otherness is made by identifying it as belonging to another nation. But the referent nation or ethnicity is usually ill defined. In Thai, for example, farang, is a well-known adjective and noun referring to Western people without any specification of nationality, culture, ethnicity, language…the aim is to define the un-Thainess rather than to define the characteristic of any particular people. Once the un- Thainess can be identified, its opposite, Thainess, is apparent.’59As with the Orientalists’ construction of the East as Other, these enemies/Others to the Thai Self stand in opposition to Thainess, embodying that which is unacceptable and abhorrent in the Self. Whereas the Burmese, for instance were seen as, ‘aggressive, expansionist, and bellicose…the Thai

55 Ibid, p. 3. 56 Ibid, p.10. 57 Ibid, p 168. 58 Peleggi, Thailand: The Worldly Kingdom, p. 198. 59 Winichakul, Siam Mapped: A History of a Geo-Body of a Nation, p. 5.

21 characteristics were the mirror image of these traits…peaceful and nonaggressive, though brave and freedom-loving…’60.

Moreover, functioning in negative opposition to Self, the Other may fulfill the role of scapegoat. Western culture, for instance, is often held accountable for many of the ills assailing contemporary Thai culture, including immoral behavior, materialism, capitalism, drug use, premarital sex, and the erosion of Thai identity in general. Thai scholar, Sulak Sivaraksa betrays this attitude when he writes, ‘Worst of all we blindly followed the West for the wrong reasons without realising the dangers …A consumer culture bringing coca cola, fast food and blue jeans has replaced our local Siamese ways of life…Neither the rich nor the poor have any idea of our own identity.’61 The West is also often blamed for a decline in morality in relation to Buddhism, Sivaraksa writes, ‘the more Siam followed farang ways, the less has it been able to retain Buddha’s Dhammic principles.’ 62 This attitude details the convenience of an Other upon which to lay the blame for the problems of the Self, and as such, ‘the Otherness serves as a token of negative identification regardless of what that nation is or does. Other nations have always been blamed for damage and evil.’63 Kitiarsa warns against this kind of scapegoat mentality, saying, ‘Thai intellectuals, officials, media, and the public seem to be too quick to blame other people and refuse to critically soul-search for their own genuine solutions to existing problems for a better future.’64

Another aspect of the construction of Otherness is the position of the Other as exotic and desired. Ethnic minorities are Other to the Thai majority culture. Despite the political reality of these ethnic minorities, the Thai government, recognizing their marketability, portrays them as exotic, ancient and traditional, and thus appeals to the tourist market and the tourist dollar. Peleggi points out how the ‘Tourism Authority of Thailand’, ‘launched a series of unabashedly Orientalistic campaigns that depicted the country as a meeting place of opposites.’65 This campaign included both ethnic minorities and the dominant Thai ethnicity as Other to the West and illustrates the way mainstream Thai society is complicit in fabricating its own exoticness, especially when there is something to gain. Here it is evident, too, that the exoticism of the Other (Thai ethnic minorities) is coveted only in so far as the Self (mainstream Thailand) wants to possess and benefit from what the Other has.

60 Ibid, p.166. 61 Sulak Sivaraksa, The Crisis of Siamese Identity in National Identity and Its Defenders, ed. Craig J. Reynolds, Centre of Southeast Asian Studies, (Monash University, Aristoc Press, 1991) p. 46. 62 Sivaraksa quoted in Kitiarsa, Farang as Siamese Occidentialism, p. 39. 63 Winichakul, Siam Mapped: A History of a Geo-Body of a Nation, p. 166. 64 Kitiarsa, Farang as Siamese Occidentialism, p. 41. 65 Peleggi, Thailand: The Worldly Kingdom, p. 54.

22

‘Farang’ as Other to the Thai Self

The West, the Westerner, or farang in Thailand has, for centuries, stood as Other against which the Thai identity has been constructed. While the Westerner in Thailand is subject to the general mechanisms of Othering as detailed by Said, it is now necessary to further examine the specific conditions surrounding the construction of the farang as Other.

Primarily, it is essential to remember that farang as Other, is a construction, and thus, here we are dealing with what the farang symbolises in the Thai imagination rather than with any concept of the ‘true’ or essential nature of the farang. As Winichakul notes, ‘The function of Otherness does not need an objective explanation. The enemy function needs only to be concrete, real, and identifiable as the opposite of We-self…’66 Furthermore, Kitiarsa emphasises the way that farang is a Siamese construction, ‘Farang has been employed as a tactic or method…by Siamese or Thai agents to deal with superior, but suspicious Others like the West.’67

Thailand has long had a love-hate relationship with the West. As Peleggi writes, ‘Ambivalence characterizes the farang as a figure of alterity: at once alluring and threatening, admired and ridiculed, imitated and rejected, the farang represents nevertheless the paradigmatic Other against which Thailand’s progress, civility and fashionability have been measured since the second half of the nineteenth century.’68 The farang, or the West in Thailand has fulfilled the function of exotic and desired Other whilst also playing the role of disdained ‘enemy’. Within the Thai construction the farang is, on the one hand, immoral, debauched, capitalistic and, on the other hand, modern, ‘civilized’, knowledgeable and worldly. Kitiarsa notes that particularly since the 19th century, ‘the West has been considered as more powerful and aggressive [than Thailand]’,69 and has thus, ‘been assigned with dubious meanings: they are dangerous but very useful, admirable but wicked’,70 and therefore, ‘cannot be fixedly located either as an enemy or a friend in the politics of Thai identities…’71 In both contradiction and agreement with Kitiarsa, I offer that the West simultaneously holds the position of both enemy and friend; the roles are intertwined and co-extant rather than appearing to swing between binary and fixed positions. The Thai attitude towards farang is emblematic of the kind of multifaceted, contradictory and ambivalent relationship the Self may have with the Other.

Having previously discussed the ‘enemy’ function as fulfilled by the Other in detail, it is now pertinent to discuss the role of the West as desired and exotic Other. To Thailand, the West has symbolised all that is modern, advanced and civilized, and aspects of it have been idealised, imitated and desired

66 Winichakul, Siam Mapped: A History of a Geo-Body of a Nation, p.168. 67 Kitiarsa, Farang as Siamese Occidentialism, p. 43. 68 Peleggi, Thailand: The Worldly Kingdom, p. 205. 69 Kitiarsa, Farang as Siamese Occidentialism, p. 43. 70 Ibid, p.43. 71 Ibid, p.43.

23 particularly since the mid-nineteenth century. As Kitiarsa states, ‘Siamese Occidentalism…is the historically and culturally-rooted system of knowledge and tactical methods employed by the Siamese rulers and elite to turn farang and their otherness into ambiguous objects of their desire to be modern and civilized.’72 Kings Mongkut and Chulalongkorn (1851-1910), for instance, were fascinated with the West and Western culture. King Mongkut, whilst never actually visiting Europe was a keen student of farang culture, familiarising himself with the English language, Christianity and Western scientific insights, among other things. His son, King Chulalongkorn, travelled abroad extensively and also sent his sons to be educated abroad, giving rise to a tradition that endures today. King Chulalongkorn was, in fact, seen as an ‘enlightened and Europeanized’73 monarch who contributed largely to the modernization of Siam. He modeled many of his initiatives on nineteenth century ideals influenced by the West and during his reign, reformed the rule of law, introduced a nation-wide education system and set up Siam’s first hospital based on Western medical practices, among other things. Indeed, many believe that, ‘The dawn of Siamese modernization was made possible largely through the selection, importation, adaptation, and consumption of the Euro-American inventions.’ 74

Furthermore, the ‘Cultural Mandates’ contain many examples of the way that the West was viewed as civilised and was therefore emulated. It is interesting to note that whilst some of the Mandates pertaining specifically to Western etiquette have endured, others lasted only as long as the government that promoted them. What is significant, however, is the way that the mandates as stereotypes of Westernisation have endured. In Thailand today, the West still continues to denote knowledge, worldliness and is a powerful status symbol in an extremely hierarchical society. Kitiarsa writes of how in the early to mid twentieth century it was desirable for young men to study in Western countries in the hope that they ‘acquire farang-like civilized manners’75, and receive preferential treatment in terms of their career, upon their return. Farang manners and social etiquette too, were seen as essential to those hoping to be accepted into Thai high society. Kitiarsa continues, ‘Key Western ways of life popular among elite and middle class people in Bangkok included European-style dress, mixing English jargon in social conversation, dancing and partying with foreigners, having English-style tea parties, going to the movies at night or enjoying horse-races over the weekend with foreigners.’76 Whilst many of these examples could no longer be defined as distinctly ‘Western’, having been wholly absorbed into contemporary Thai culture, others remain definite signifiers of the civilized and exotic West. For example, it is still considered representative of worldliness and status to have studied or travelled abroad. Furthermore, the ability to speak English, use English words interspersed with Thai and to have farang friends are distinctive symbols of cosmopolitanism and up-to-date ‘cool’.

72 Ibid, p.6-7. 73 Ibid, p.25. 74 Ibid, p.18. 75 Ibid, p.33. 76 Ibid, p.33.

24 Part of the reason why Western culture was and is admired is that the West was and continues to be eminently dominant on a global scale. What is desired, then, is potentially the power that Western culture is seen to possess rather than its actual artefacts or behaviours. Embedded within Thailand’s fascination with the West there is the perception that the West is superior, in terms of global might as well as cultural and societal advancements. Kings such as Mongkut, Chulalongkorn and Vajiravudh were keenly aware of the West’s perceived superiority. Referring to King Vajiravudh, Kitiarsa says, ‘Like his grandfather and father, the King considered that Siam was ranked lowly on the international ladder of civilization. He felt that through his nationalistic program and Buddhist morality, Siam must be uplifted … and, thus, become on par with the Europeans and Americans.’77 Implicit in this attitude is the perceived inferiority of Thailand (by Thailand) in relation to the West. This, no doubt has led to the need to construct the farang in some capacity as enemy, to somehow counter the global status of the West as superior by deriding it and exposing it as morally inferior. As Kitiarsa points out, ‘The familiar theme for them [the Siamese rulers and elite] was to imagine farang as suspiciously mixed objects of worldly desire, who are morally and spiritually condemned. Siam has been aware the farang are immensely more superior and powerful, and that Siam needs a way to contend with them.’78 An early example of finding a way to ‘contend’ with the farang is illustrated by the actions of King Rama III in 1851. In response to potential territorial threats posed by the British, the King commissioned a series of temple inscriptions depicting farang ‘as Siam’s morally inferior others among many ethnocultural non-Siamese people...’79 in an attempt to ‘counter farang imperialist influences.’80 As Peleggi writes, ‘At the turn of a century that had radically transformed its physical, economic, political and social landscapes, the dilemma of Thailand lay in reconciling the objectives of…achieving regional leadership by managing globalisation and…preserving an assumed national essence – ‘Thainess’…- seemingly threatened by globalisation.’81 Indeed, the dominance of Western culture was, and still is viewed as a threat to Thai identity today, thus maintaining the enduring position of the farang in the Thai collective imagining as both friend and foe.

77 Ibid, p 28. 78 Ibid, p. 41-42. 79 Ibid, p. 20. 80 Ibid, p.20. 81 Peleggi, Thailand: The Worldly Kingdom, p. 20.

25

Artworks

The artworks presented as part of the research were produced in Australia in the three years following my return from Thailand. Despite having been created in Australia, the conceptual concerns of the body of work are drawn directly from five years of living and working in Thailand. Through sculpture and video installation the art practice delves into the intimate space of the experience of being Other, acknowledging the relative nature of identity and examining issues such as the shock of recognising the Self as Other and the subsequent realisation that the Self may simultaneously be Self and Other. Moreover, the art practice examines the barrier between belonging and not belonging, and the subsequent desire to traverse this barrier through adaptation and the modification of one’s identity, and the ultimate futility of this endeavor. In addition, a selection of artists whose work addresses diverse notions of Otherness and whose concerns bare strong relationship to my own, including Orlan, Mella Jaarsma, Dacchi Dang and the performance group ‘Moti Roti’ will be discussed herein.

26 Chapter 3: Falang! Falang!

The 2-channel video installation, Falang! Falang!82 (figures 7 – 12) explores personal experiences of socio-cultural dislocation and identity in terms of the position of the Westerner as Other within the cultural sphere of Thailand. The work examines the desire to belong - which manifests in the modifying of one’s identity in order to fit-in - and the inevitability of not belonging within this context. Furthermore, the work examines the way that ideals of beauty are socially and culturally constructed.

The video shows the performer (the artist) as she ‘transforms’ herself from a Caucasian female into an Asian female. It presents a softly lit, intimate space in which the performer moves in and out of the lamp light, leaning towards and away from a mirror off camera in a self-scrutinising dance. She examines her features, pulling her eyes up at the edges to elongate them, closing them to accentuate an ‘oriental’ look. She moves slowly, changing the colour of her skin, including her nipples, applying eye make-up, a wig, traditional Thai clothes and accessories in an almost ritualistic trance. She then practices the traditional Thai ‘wai’ or mode of greeting in an attempt to emulate and embody the ideal characteristics of a Thai woman who is outwardly demure, polite and elegant. After repeated ‘wai-ing’ the performer begins to remove the adornments that allowed her transformation. Now, her body language is somehow deflated as the unadorned self begins to emerge. Her actions become pedestrian, no longer ritualised, as thick, white make-up remover is wiped painfully across her face. Finally, she returns to the beginning, to her unadorned ‘self’; and the process repeats itself indefinitely as the video loop continues.

The work primarily explores adaptation and the desire to fit in, in new cultural surrounds. Yet, in many ways it is a futile exercise; as stated above the definition of Thainess is exclusive, and no matter how the farang attempts to adapt, his/her position as Other is guaranteed and remains fixed. It follows that the only way to be truly accepted is to become visibly ‘Thai’. A studio diary records, ‘It was as if all my efforts to adapt dissolved instantly the moment someone looked at my face and pointed, muttered or smiled the word ‘falang’. As a result, it seemed that the ultimate way to belong would be to transform my physical features, to melt in, to become anonymous via my appearance, to become ‘Asian’, to seemingly negate all that differentiated me from those around; in effect I was seeking to obliterate my ‘farangness’, my ‘Otherness’.83

Ironically, when completely costumed, bejewelled and wai-ing, there is a pathos to the work; even though the performer has gone to extreme lengths to become ‘other’ than herself, she is still so evidently not; she remains a Caucasian ‘wannabe’, a farce, a fake, a copy. Her position as Other remains,

82 The title of the work is taken from the Thai word for Westerner, ‘farang’, however, due to the Thai habit of pronouncing ‘r’ as ‘l’, the word is often pronounced ‘falang’. As the title of the work references the way the word is spoken or called out to a person of Western appearance in Thailand, the work takes the commonly ‘spoken’ form as its title. 83 Katherine Olston, excerpt taken from a studio diary, 2001.

27 and the inevitability of her not-belonging enforced.

Originating conceptually within the cultural context of Thailand, the work also deals with notions of beauty, belonging and acceptance, and challenges a prevalent notion in Thailand that Western features are more attractive than Asian features. Apart from extensive cosmetics including skin-whitening and nipple-pinkening products, plastic surgery is a rapidly growing industry in Thailand. Some of the most common operations include rhinoplasty where the bridge of the nose is raised resulting in a more ‘Western’ nose, and bleparoplasty where a fold is inserted in the eyelid making the eye more ‘Caucasian’. By presenting the inverse of this ideal - a Caucasian woman desiring to be Asian - the work attempts to subvert existing notions of beauty and to highlight the way in which we often strive to be other than what we are (yet still very much within the bounds of acceptable social norms) in a quest for acceptance.

Falang! Falang!: A New Context

The context from which the work, Falang! Falang! evolved should now be evident. Even though it specifically deals with personal experiences of being Other in Thailand, it may be read as a wider exploration of Otherness in terms of the alienation of the Other and the resultant desire to belong.

From 200384 until 2005 Falang! Falang! was performed in various guises and locations in Thailand; at the start of 2006 it was performed at the National Review of Live Arts in Glasgow, and in 2007 the video installation, Falang! Falang! was exhibited as part of a solo show, Under Her Skin, at Kudos Gallery in Sydney. The work travelled to very different cultural contexts from the one in which it originated. Whilst in Thailand the work dealt with the stereotype of being a falang, or Other in that context; in Glasgow and Sydney it came up against a different kind of stereotype or expectation and took on very different overtones. In Scotland and Australia people expressed discomfort in response to the work, some observing that it was ‘colonial’, ‘confronting’, ‘problematic’ and ‘condescending’.

In order to understand the nature of this kind of reaction it is necessary to recall the above discussion, ‘Critiquing Dominant Paradigms of Otherness.’ In Thailand, due to the Thai perception of Self as centre, the work could be readily understood as a farang - an Other to the Thai Self - attempting to fit-in by adopting the clothes and customs of the dominant Thai culture. In Glasgow and Sydney, however, there is the potential for a highly ambiguous reading of

84 Mirror Room was originally presented as a performance installation developed as part of the exhibition, Beauty Suit: Performance Installation that I organised as part of my Asialink Performing Arts residency at Chiang Mai University Art Museum in 2003. The work involved four female performers enclosed within a small pink room. One-way mirrors set into each wall allowed the audience to view the performers, yet the performers were only able to see their own reflections in the mirrors. Each woman, in front of her own ‘private’ mirror staged various and personal rituals associated with beauty or beautifying herself. The work was performed in Bangkok at Womanifesto, Pro-creation/Post-creation, 2003, and in Chaing Mai at Mild Conflict: Asiatopia 6, International Performance Art Festival 6th, 2004.

28 the work. This is due to the fact that, just like the Thai audience, the Western audience tends to read the work from the position of Self (Western Self) as centre. In this case then, whilst viewing the work, the Western viewer observes the dominant Western Self dressing in the clothes of the Asian ‘subjugated’ (historically and colonially) Other, and thus may conclude that, just as in colonial times, the West is speaking for, or depicting the disempowered Other. Hence, the discomfort experienced by viewers may be attributed to the fact that, primarily, they felt it was in some way ‘wrong’, ‘condescending’ or ‘colonial’ that a white person seemingly depict or ‘speak for’ the Other. Yet, what a Western audience may largely fail to see is that the work originated in an environment where the Westerner is not dominant, where the Westerner is an outsider, and is, in fact, Other.

The judgement, then, that the work is condescending and colonialist is passed down from the position where the Westerner is the dominant Self. The inherent problem within this response lies in the fact that this central position is taken for granted and not questioned. This assumption leads to, firstly, the over-compensatory and benevolent impulse, which results in the desire to so vigilantly ‘protect’ the Other. This is an incredibly condescending urge, as implicit in the desire to protect is the assumption that ‘they’ are not able to protect, speak for, or represent themselves. Also, the role of ‘protector’ is taken by those assuming the dominant position in the relationship, and thus in this case, the historically dominant position of the West is reinforced. What is more, in attempting to protect the Other by deciding what is ‘unacceptable’ or ‘acceptable’, the voice of the Other is effectively co-opted and what the well- meaning ‘politically correct’ observer was initially trying to avoid is achieved, the Other is spoken for.

Secondly, by deeming it ‘wrong’ that a Westerner comment in such a way is to deny them (the particular Westerner) the right to speak, effectively silencing them. Thus the phenomenon that Spivak referred to with her white, Western, male student can be observed here too. Yet here it is not only self-censorship, but communal censorship on the part of the Western audience. This kind of silencing and over-compensatory protectiveness, rather than ensuring any type of equality, can only serve to reinforce the dichotomous and simplistic categorizations of East and West, thus denying any deeper form of engagement or mutual comprehension. As Said says, ‘When one uses categories like Orient and Western as both the starting and the end points of analysis, research, public policy…the result is usually to polarize the distinction – the Oriental becomes more Oriental, the Westerner, more Western – and limit the human encounter between different cultures, traditions, and societies.’85

Finally, it is ironic to note that even though the work may be criticised by a Western audience for apparently representing or speaking for the subjugated ‘Asian’ Other, what it in fact presents is the voice of the Westerner, speaking for itself from the position as Other. If, as Cornel West states, ‘The aim is to dare to recast, redefine, and revise the very notions of “modernity”, “margins”,

85 Said, Orientalism, p. 45.

29 “difference”, “otherness”,86 surely such a revised definition should include the potential for the white, Westerner to occupy the position of Other.

The Exotic and Freakish Other: Interrogating the Depiction of Otherness in the work of Orlan.

The work of French performance artist Orlan is particularly relevant to the discussion of the work Falang! Falang! as Orlan’s work also deals with identity and Otherness, challenges conventional Western notions of beauty, involves physical and imagined transformation, and has employed elements from non- Western cultures; and like Falang! Falang! specific works of Orlan’s have been deemed racist and condescending, as will be discussed herein .

Primarily, Orlan’s work is concerned with subverting dominant ideals of beauty, and she is best known for her project, The Reincarnation of St. Orlan (1990-1993) (figures 13 & 14) in which she underwent a series of plastic surgery operations. These operative performances through which her face was surgically transformed to resemble various facial features of women renown for their beauty within the canon of art history87, were elaborate and ritualistic. The surgical process in all its visceral and gory detail was filmed and broadcast via web link. In yet another operation, Orlan had implants (usually used to heighten cheekbones) inserted into her forehead, creating two lumps, or ‘pigeon eggs’ as she calls them. Her more recent work, Self- Hybridations (figures 15 - 18) continues her project of transformation. Here, Orlan presents a series of digitally manipulated images in which her surgically enhanced face is morphed with facial characteristics from non-Western cultures, which have cultivated various physical mutations as emblematic of beauty

Both Falang! Falang!, The Reincarnation of St. Orlan and the Self- Hybridations seek to subvert dominant ideals of beauty by highlighting the condition that beauty is socially constructed and is dependant upon context. The video Falang! Falang! emphasises the cultural specificity of beauty by eluding to the co-existence of contradictory beauty norms in Thailand and Australia. Whereas in Australia, for example, tanned or olive skin is seen to be more desirable than white skin, in Thailand the opposite is true. The Self- Hybridations, too, raise the issue of beauty ideals being contingent on cultural context by presenting facial modifications performed by various non-Western cultures. These modifications functioned as signifiers of beauty within their originating culture, yet within the context of Western cultural norms would never be considered conventionally beautiful.

The Reincarnation of St. Orlan also challenges conventional Western paradigms of beauty by firstly highlighting the, according to Orlan, patriarchal nature of many beauty ideals. Francesca Miglietti writes of Orlan’s work, ‘…it

86 West, The New Cultural Politics of Difference, in The Cultural Studies Reader, p.267. 87 Orlan selected five main facial features from women renown for their beauty including, the forehead of Leonardo's Mona Lisa, the nose of Francois Gerard's Psyche and the chin of Sandro Botticelli's Venus.

30 detaches itself and retaliates against the imposed models of female icons of male desire, and thus becomes a non-conformist, anti-aesthetic and antithetical body.’ 88 Secondly, she addresses prevalent notions of beauty through exposing the visceral horror underlying the beauty industry, calling to mind the pig fat in lipstick or the cosmetics tested on animals; the work reveals the often hidden, bloodied interior of the organic body, which is exposed through plastic surgery. Thirdly, by presenting an unconventional, peculiar and often alien-like surgically (or digitally) enhanced body her work seeks to subvert accepted notions of beauty. Miglietti writes of Orlan’s forehead implants, ‘Orlan has had two protuberances grafted onto her forehead, which annul and completely re-elaborate all the stereotypes of the aesthetics of desire, of beauty…’ 89 Thus, where Falang! Falang! challenges Western notions of beauty by highlighting the cross-cultural contradictions inherent in beauty ideals, Orlan tends to err towards the alien, or monstrous in order to inversely draw attention to mainstream Western expectations of attractiveness and sexual desirability.

Furthermore, the enactment of Otherness is an important feature of both Falang! Falang! and of Orlan’s work in general, yet there are vast differences in approaches. Whereas in Falang! Falang! the performer transforms her physical appearance in order to obliterate her Otherness, in Orlan’s work she seeks to become the monstrous, ugly, rejected Other. She says, ‘Because I am described as a woman who has two bumps on her head, immediately I am imagined to be an unfuckable monster, but this is not the case when people see me’.90 Orlan evidently identifies her pre-surgery Self as central, accepted, sexually desirable and beautiful, and she therefore attempts to render herself opposite to these ‘positive’ traits through surgery. Yet there is also the contradiction, evident in the above quote, that even though she may not appear ‘normal’ she may still be sexually attractive, contrary to what society may initially predict for one ‘disfigured’ in such a way. Thus, in Orlan’s work the Other manifests itself in the form of the oppositional, socially rejected, and monstrous feminine–an Other which Orlan desires to embody. Conversely, the performer in Falang! Falang! recognises that, pre-transformation, she is Other and therefore attempts to become central, accepted and part of the dominant culture.

Due to the infamy of her surgical operations Orlan’s work is most widely read as a feminine critique of socially constructed ideals of beauty and her subsequent work is presented with these works as conceptual backdrop. The series of work, Self-Hybridations, for example is explained as an extension of her surgical performances. She says, ‘Contrary to what I had attempted with the series of surgical operations, my self hybrids do not inscribe the transformation within my flesh – my “phenomenological body” – but in the pixels of my virtual flesh…’ 91 In this way, she seeks perhaps to justify the

88 Francesca Miglietti, Extreme Bodies: The Use and Abuse of the Body in Art, (Thames and Hudson, 2003), p.169. 89 Miglietti, Extreme Bodies: The Use and Abuse of the Body in Art, pp.173. 90 Orlan in Jill C. O’Bryan, EXTRActions: A performative Dialogue “With” Orlan in Carnal Art: Orlan’s Refacing, (University of Minnesota Press, 2005), p. 142. 91 Ibid, pp.134.

31 connection between the digital images and her real body, emphasising the means by which the digital images may also challenge ideals of beauty. Jill O’Bryan articulates the way in which Orlan emphasises the connection between the virtual and the real explaining, ‘at the core of her work always lies the premise that beauty is constructed in accordance with historical and cultural standards. In both series of work, she deconstructs and appropriates indicators of beauty into/onto her body – one live, one virtual…’92 However, to view the Self-Hybridations only in terms of ideals of beauty is extremely limiting and inhibits a critique of them in a wider socio-cultural and political context.

Just as the work Falang! Falang! has been read as ‘colonial’ and perhaps even as racist, so too have the Self-Hybridations. As Elizabeth Mansfield states, ‘[the Self-Hybridations have]… been alternately dismissed as a racist mockery and commended as a carnivalesque critique of feminine social norms.’ 93 Here, the dominant and feminist reading of the work is evident, yet so too is the extremely obvious but seldom addressed observation of the work’s racist overtones. Even though there may be superficial similarities between Falang! Falang! and Self-Hybridations, deeper analysis reveals fundamental and significant differences. What is overwhelming about the images of the Self-Hybridations series is the way that they uncritically employ a stereotype of Otherness, serving to further solidify the distance between Self and Other. Falang! Falang!, on the other hand, deals with the recognition of the Self as Other within a foreign cultural environment, and thus neither objectifies nor reinforces a distant, separate Other. Consequently, where Falang! Falang! has been interpreted as colonial, yet is not, Self-Hybridations have, I would argue, accurately been described as racist and colonial.

From the discussion above, it is evident how the Self-Hybridations may be read as subverting conventional expectations of beauty, however, in a wider context the series is highly problematic. Self-Hybridations is a series of digitally manipulated images in which Orlan ’s surgically enhanced face is overlaid with physiognomic features that signify beauty in various non- Western cultures. Scarification, neck rings, lip plates, and elongated skulls are among some of the signifiers appropriated from Pre-Columbian, African, Fang, Mayan and Amarna cultures. It is indisputable that these features would not be considered beautiful judged by Western norms, yet the problem lies in the way in which Orlan indiscriminately employs these elements as generic signifiers of exotic Otherness. O’Bryan writes of the response to the Self- Hybridations, ‘These images yielded accusations of Orlan’s overwhelming pretence and racism. The motivations behind…[the work]…were likened to a minstrel’s use of blackface, which creates a carnivalesque otherness that serves to exacerbate the gap between the normative and the grotesque (the self and the other).’ 94 Orlan seemingly chooses these features simply

92 O’Bryan, EXTRActions: A performative Dialogue “With” Orlan in Carnal Art: Orlan’s Refacing, pp. 134. 93 Elizabeth C. Mansfield, Too Beautiful to Picture-Zeuxis, Myth and Mimesis, (University of Minnesota Press, 2007), p. 164. 94 O’Bryan, EXTRActions: A performative Dialogue “With” Orlan in Carnal Art: Orlan’s Refacing, p. 136.

32 because they are not Western and appear ‘exotic’, ‘Other’. She adopts these elements from diverse cultures and takes them completely out of context into the environs of Western culture rendering them simplistic, two-dimensional signifiers of the exotic and alien Other, which is exacerbated by the somewhat carnivalesque, grotesque appearance of many of the portraits. O’Bryan says, ‘Projected through the eyes of a Westerner, for Westerners, Orlan’s images are fantastic, kaleidoscopic, and carnivalesque.’ 95 She highlights the problems inherent in Orlan’s strategy, ‘Out of context, exaggerated, and appropriated by a Western artist, these bodily inscriptions are completely transformed. Politically they reference a performance that crosses cultures, but they are also caricatures of other cultures’ signifiers of beauty and frequently appear carnivalesque, somewhat extra-terristrial, and generally misinterpreted...this loads the images with potentially racist connotations by reinforcing and exaggerating the otherness of the other (those outside Western culture).’ 96

In contradiction to O’Bryan, however, I would argue that, due to the fact Orlan has so indiscriminately appropriated these foreign cultural elements, she, in no way engages a ‘cross-cultural’ project, because the relationship is entirely one-way; rather, through this work, she enacts France’s history of colonialism. Commenting on this aspect of Orlan’s work, Mansfield draws attention to the peculiar fact that, although painfully obvious, ‘but so far unremarked - is Orlan’s decision to fuse her (French) identity with that of peoples subsumed by France’s imperial ambitions. Her hybrid self-portraits cite Mayan, Amarnna, and Fang artworks – a clear evocation of cultures indigenous to the regions colonized by France.’ 97 Mansfield continues, ‘Seen in this light, Orlan’s Zeuxian performance emerges as part of a larger exploration of the impulse toward empire in which she serves as colonizer and colonized.’98 While it is apparent the way that Orlan’s work enacts colonialism in its indiscriminate appropriation of images of exotic Otherness, it is not so clearly apparent what Mansfield means when she describes Orlan as being ‘colonised’. Perhaps this refers to the way her body, through surgery or through digital enhancement has been colonized by ‘foreign’ elements, yet within the context of imperial colonisation Orlan in her dominant position is hardly the ‘colonised’. It is also curious to note that, for an artist so articulate, who writes and lectures extensively about her work and the theoretical framework that informs it, Orlan fails to comment on, or even acknowledge the colonial connotations of her work.

Moreover, it is the quality of the images and the way she justifies her approach, which reveals another level of racism. Through the images Orlan further emphasises the Otherness of the Other by accentuating the alien, freakish, and grotesque atmosphere of the portraits. O’Bryan says, ‘Whereas some of the images appear to reference the cubist fascination with African art and culture, and others are quite classically beautiful, most are comical and grotesque interpretations of facial inscriptions from other cultures…her

95 Ibid, p.136. 96 Ibid, p. 134. 97 Mansfield, Too Beautiful to Picture-Zeuxis, Myth and Mimesis, p. 164. 98 Ibid, p. 164.

33 hybrids are offspring of the carnival freak and the humanoid.’ 99 Thus, the difference of the Other is enforced and accentuated. What is more, the Other in this work is not-quite-human. Orlan refers to the images as ‘mutant beings’100. This attitude is extremely disturbing considering France’s colonial past and the way that the ‘subject races’ were often viewed as sub-human and inferior.101 In addition, Orlan displays a kind of condescending and benevolent attitude to the ‘humanoids’ she creates. She explains that in collaboration with the digital technicians she ‘aim[ed] at making characters whose physical appearances are not renowned as beautiful for our time, but who have the air of being thoughtful, human, intelligent, with the joy of life.’ 102

Even though the work of Orlan and the work Falang! Falang! explore similar themes there are fundamental and significant differences between these works. Indeed, It is ironic to note that whilst the dominant aim of Orlan’s work is purportedly to challenge stereotypes of beauty, she overtly, and uncritically enforces stereotypes of Otherness, embracing the notion of the general, homogenous and abstract, distant Other. Falang! Falang!, on the other hand, examines and challenges precisely these stereotypes. It offers an alternative to dominant paradigms of Otherness in exposing one, specific example, among many diverse examples, of a particular contextualised Otherness.

99 O’Bryan, EXTRActions: A performative Dialogue “With” Orlan in Carnal Art: Orlan’s Refacing, p.135. 100 Ibid, p.134. 101 For example, Jamaica Kincaid in her essay, A Small Place writes of the destructive English colonial presence in Antigua, where she grew up. Through the essay, the reader gains a sense of the way the English saw the Antiguans as inferior, she says, speaking to the presumably Western (English) reader ‘…perhaps as you observe the debacle in which I now exist, the utter ruin that I say is my life, perhaps you are remembering that you had always felt people like me cannot run things…people like me will never be able to take command of the thing the most simpleminded among you can master, people like me will never understand the notion of rule by law…You will forget your part in the whole setup, that bureaucracy is one of your inventions…and all the laws that you know mysteriously favour you…’ A Small Place in The Post-Colonial Studies Reader, p. 92-94. 102 O’Bryan, EXTRActions: A performative Dialogue “With” Orlan in Carnal Art: Orlan’s Refacing, pp.135.

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Chapter 4: This Golden Cosmos Comes Crashing Down

The video installation, This Golden Cosmos Comes Crashing Down, (figures 19 – 22) addresses the growing awareness and recognition of the Otherness of the Self within the ‘foreign’ socio-cultural sphere of Thailand. It examines the experience of the Westerner as Other in this context, exploring the construction of Thai identity through populist cinema and writing, and a non- Thai woman’s place (or lack there of) in Thai society. My Golden Cosmos Comes Crashing Down explores the position of farang as definite outsider, physically depicting the barrier that delineates Self from Other.

The title of the work, This Golden Cosmos Comes Crashing Down, directly references the shock of recognizing the Self as Other. Franz Fanon writes, ‘I sit down at the fire and I become aware of my uniform. I had not seen it. It is indeed ugly. I stop there, for who can tell me what beauty is?’103 Thus, a schism opens between the speaker’s perception of Self and how others perceive him, and we observe the moment when he becomes aware of his own Otherness. In the case of the video work discussed here, it is the Westerner perceiving themselves as Other in relation to mainstream Thai society. Furthermore, the use of the word ‘cosmos’ was inspired by Winichakul when he writes of the way in which dominant, hegemonic discourse functions in its own ‘world’ (or ‘cosmos’) where it positions itself as centre/Self, thus defining all those outside its ‘world’ as Other. The idea of the ‘golden cosmos’, then, refers to the somewhat idealistic world we may naïvely or wilfully inhabit where we play the role of the central character and where we have, perhaps, never before conceived of, let alone, experienced being Other. It is the golden cosmos of the unequivocal Self and within it we are the centre of the universe. Consequently, both the distressing realisation that we may not always occupy the central position in any given narrative and that our own particular cosmos is not omnipotent causes a fundamental rethinking of our worldview and thus the ‘golden cosmos’ which we once believed to be true and all-powerful, comes crashing down around us.

Where the title of the work pinpoints the moment when a fundamental existential modality disintegrates, the video installation depicts a Self dealing with the shifted location of the Self from centre to periphery; the Self is now Other. However, it is important to note the dialectical nature of Self and Other. Though the Self has realised that it is no longer the centre of the universe, this does not negate the fact that it is still also Self. The difference is that now the Self has an awareness of the relative nature of its condition.

Screen 1 of the video installation depicts a lone Western woman, wearing a black ‘Asian’ wig and Thai earrings (the same character as appears in the work Falang! Falang!) reaching out and straining towards the pulsating golden glow of Screen 2. Screen 2 is composed of a relief, latex sculpture of a poem written by a prominent Thai poet that embodies the core ideals of Thai self- identification and nationhood. Projected through this latex ‘membrane’ and

103 Franz Fanon, Black Skin, White Masks, Translated by Charles Lam Markmann, (Pluto Press, 1986, [1967]), p.114.

35 appearing as phantasms across it, is a popular Thai film that also embodies ideals of Thai self-hood.

Screen 2 is emblematic of the ‘golden cosmos’, the dominant culture, in which the Self is central, and in this context it is the Thai Self that fulfils this role. The latex relief poem, entitled ‘The Heartland’104, is idealistic and embodies notions essential to the construction of Thainess. The poem is rich with references to the noble and enduring nature of agrarian life and exalts the beauty and abundance of the life-sustaining produce to be reaped from the earth, ’Green stalks, sheaves of gold, White jasmine rice, behold!’105 The poem concludes with a warning as to the potential dangers posed by the outside world, ‘Changes in the world come on sudden, Quake the heartland like a thunder bolt, Imprint the head with dread smitten…’ , and reminds the reader to ‘…pay belated tribute, To the folks in the fields…Before the wheels of time retribute, With crushing force and break our hearts.’106 Thus, the poem aptly illustrates two core components in the construction of Thai identity; firstly, the way in which the Thai rural population are widely believed to innately possess characteristics essential to Thainess and secondly, the poem reinforces the importance of a unified Thainess to protect against an outside threat.

Furthermore, the Thai movie in screen 2, ‘Ong Bak: Muay Thai Warrior’,107 (figures 23 & 24) which is back-projected onto the latex skin of the poem, deals with similar themes. The perceived threat to Thai identity as posed by the West is clearly evident in the first few scenes which depict a peaceful, humble and communally-conscious village where many of the traditional customs of Thai culture are still observed; the temple (and thus Buddhism) is the spiritual center of the village, and the villagers are poor farmers. This purity and moral goodness stands in stark contrast to the atmosphere in Bangkok where gambling, prostitution, drugs and illegal fighting are rampant. Where the village, untouched by Westernisation, is the very epitome of Thainess, Bangkok highlights the fatal and debauched allure of the West.

At once desirable and alluring, the latex membrane of screen 2 also acts as an insurmountable and exclusive barrier serving to maintain the position of foreigner as ‘outsider’ or Other, and the Thai as ‘insider’, or Self. The film image is blurred largely beyond recognition and the audio accompanying it is distorted, over-laid and out-of-sync with the image. Moreover, the fact that the poem is written in Thai, and the audio is also in Thai further emphasises the central nature of the Thai ‘We-self’ demonstrating how language both serves to signify Otherness and also to create a barriers between ‘us’ and ‘them’.

Through this golden membrane of poetic patriotism and nationalistic rhetoric, the woman in screen 1 attempts to make out the distorted images projected

104 Paiwarin Khao-Ngam, The Heartland in More Poems from Banana Tree Horse, translated by B. Kasemsri, (Praew Book, 1999), p. 82. 105 Ibid, p. 82. 106 Ibid, p. 83. 107 Prachya Pinkaew, Ong Bak: Muay Thai Warrior, (2003).

36 onto it. She strains towards the screen’s alluring glow, and though initially unnoticed, she is in an awkward, painful position. As the work progresses her struggle to maintain the ‘correct’ position becomes increasingly clear, manifesting an irresolvable futility. It is the futility of attempting to adhere to another’s definition of ones self, and of never being able to fully traverse the barrier between us and them. As Winichaikul has observed, Thainess is something Thai people are believed to innately possess, and ‘farang’, no matter how hard they try, can ‘never reach with… utmost intimacy’.108 This is not to say, however, that the farang may not be accepted by Thai culture to a certain extent; definitely, being able to speak Thai, have Thai friends, eat Thai food and observe Thai social etiquette affords the farang a certain level of acceptance into Thai culture, yet the fact remains that acceptance is only ever partial. Understanding the existence of this fundamental barrier is what essentially inspired the work This Golden Cosmos Comes Crashing Down.

The Negotiation of Otherness in the work of Mella Jaarsma.

The negotiation of Otherness is a fundamental theme also dealt with in the work of Mella Jaarsma. As a Dutch-born artist who has been living, working and raising a family in Indonesia for the past 24 years, she lives in a society where her ethnicity, at least superficially, cements her position as Other. Together with husband and fellow artist, Nindityo Adipurnomo she has run the ‘Cemeti Art House’ in Yogykarta since 1988. Although her work addresses specific socio-political conditions pertinent to Indonesia, the experience of being a foreigner in her adopted homeland has also greatly informed her work. Just as the body of work Irreversible Encounters and the Point of No Return! demonstrates an acute awareness of the Self as Other, Jaarsma is also astutely conscious of her own ‘difference’. In much the same way as occurs in Thailand, as someone who looks discernibly ‘foreign’ she is often called upon to explain her Otherness. ‘Where are you from? Where are you going? Where are you from originally?’109 are questions she faces daily and inform the conceptual framework around which her work is built.

Extant in Jaarsma’s work is an acknowledgement and acceptance of the Self as Other, yet present also is the desire and fascination with traversing the boundary between ‘us’ and ‘them’. In her ‘cooking performances’ Jaarsma attempts to traverse the boundary between Self and Other and to challenge fixed stereotypes of identity. In these performances food imbued with different cultural connotations, taboos and beliefs is prepared and served to audience members. It is as if the artist sees the act of ingesting food as a potentially transformative experience. Julie Ewington writes, ‘The performance Hi Inlander 1999 poses these questions: what does it mean to walk around in another’s skin, to see through their eyes, to make food with their own hands? To eat their food and to become, therefore, like them? More acutely, what does it feel like to live in another’s body? And does a different body make a different person?’110 (figures 25 – 27).

108 Winichakul, Siam Mapped: A History of a Geo-Body of a Nation, p. 7. 109 Julie Ewington, The Problem of Location in Beyond the Future: The Third Asia-Pacific Triennial of Contemporary Art, Catalogue, (Queensland Art Gallery, 1999), p. 62. 110 Ibid, p. 62.

37

Another theme common to both Jaarsma’s work and Irreversible Encounters and the Point of No Return! is the acknowledgement of the relativity of identity and the dialectical nature of Self/Other. In This Golden Cosmos Comes Crashing Down it is evident that the Western woman is firmly situated on the outside looking in towards mainstream Thai culture, and thus in this context is an outsider. Yet because, as viewers, we directly observe the Western woman (in the video) and thus vicariously live her experience of Otherness, she is simultaneously both Self and Other. Jaarsma, too, deals with similar issues in a number of ways in her work. An early work, Show me the truth (1997), invited viewers to stand in someone else’s footprints, demonstrating the relative nature of Otherness; in changing or shifting location, even minutely, we may find ourselves in another’s situation. In addition, the veil- like, body covering costumes, which she is well known for 111 negotiate the dialectical notion of Self/Other in an ever-shifting play between performer and audience. The costumes, worn by performers cover the body revealing only the eyes, hands, shins and feet. The performers, then, are free to return the spectators’ gaze, indeed, to observe the spectators in the same way that the audience members may view the performers. Lisa Byrne observes of Jaarsma’s work, SARA-swati 1 and 1, which also included pointing fingers protruding from the costume, ‘With this action the artist steadfastly disavows any neutralised viewing of the veiled subject. Negating any potential as a spectacle, the viewer is watched inasmuch as the entire audience is drawn into participating in the performance.’ 112 Thus, where the delineation between Self and Other becomes blurred the Self may simultaneously become Other and the Other, Self.

Despite a number of thematic similarities there are also a number of fundamental differences between Jaarsma’s work and the work of the project. Whereas the project is largely concerned with examining the construction and experience of Otherness in relation to the position of the Westerner in a ‘foreign’ cultural environment, Jaarsma avoids making a direct comment on the specificity of her own ethnicity, her own ‘Western-ness’. Rather, through her work she seemingly seeks to articulate non-fixed identities, which are always relative, and in a constant state of flux. She relishes the opportunity to manifest not merely hybrid identities, but completely shifting identities that avoid classification and thus stereotyping. A story surrounding the presentation of her work at the Third Asia Pacific Triennial in Brisbane aptly illustrates this. Jaarsma had requested an Aboriginal model wear one of the ‘costumes’ in the work Hi Inlander. She relates the story of meeting the Aboriginal model, Rodney: ‘when I arrived he was already wearing the veil. He was surprised to see a white person representing Indonesia…[and] … Hearing my Dutch accent he suddenly started to speak Dutch to me, a big surprise! We exchanged information about where we were born, where we grew up and where we lived now. Rodney turned out to be an Aboriginal from the stolen generation…Rodney grew up in a Dutch immigrant family, who

111 For example the works Hi Inlander’ (1998-99), The Follower (2003), The Healer (2003) and The Warrior (2003), all employ the form of the shroud-like body costume. 112 Lisa Byrne, Mella Jaarsma: Moments like this…, www.anu.edu.au/hrc/research/WtoS/Byrne.pdf,

38 moved back to the Netherlands when he was eleven…Isn’t it a moment like this that I had made the art work for?’113

Moreover, it is curious to note that Jaarsma consistently chooses indigenous models to perform her work. This definitely has the effect of obscuring the presence of the artist’s obvious ‘Western-ness’ in her work. This is potentially a deliberate technique employed by Jaarsma in order to defy categorisation as a ‘Western’ or ‘Dutch’ artist, and to further avoid rigid stereotypes of identity. On the other hand, the works in Irreversible Encounters and the Point of No Return! intentionally draw upon specific stereotypes and ideals of identity. This Golden Cosmos Comes Crashing Down, for example, deliberately utilises a Western performer in order to draw attention to the position of the Westerner as foreigner, or Other within the socio-cultural environment of Thailand. Extant in the work is an awareness of the rigid conditions imposed on belonging, and an acceptance of and attempt to render physical the socio-politically constructed barrier that separates belonging from not-belonging. In this way This Golden Cosmos Comes Crashing Down acknowledges the rigid and exclusive nature of cultural stereotypes and ideals. This is not to say that that work employs essentialist notions of identity, but rather attempts to reveal existing stereotypes and preconceptions. Jaarsma, on the contrary, actively attempts to subvert such stereotypes by selecting materials potent with meaning in a wide range of cultures. She comments on her work, Hi Inlander, ‘Everybody who confronts my work is coming at it from different backgrounds and cultures, dealing with highly personal sets of taboos and therefore experiencing the work in different ways.’114 She avoids making specific comment about any particular culture, and as Miriam Kelly points out, this is ‘particularly evident in her motivation to explore materials and themes that are not endemic to either Indonesia or the Netherlands.’115 Thus, rather than focusing on a specific experience of Otherness, Jaarsma highlights the notion of racial and cultural diversity and Otherness in general.

Furthermore, Jaarsma, in drawing attention to racial difference also displays a desire to remedy racial intolerance through her work. In 1998, in one of her most well-known and subversive works entitled Pribumi, Jaarsma cooked and served frog-legs to passers by outside the Presidential Palace in Yogyakarta. Frog-legs are a Chinese delicacy but are considered unclean by Javanese Muslims. Just two months before the work was performed, massive race riots had broken out in Indonesia and many Indonesians of Chinese origin had been killed. In presenting Pribumi in such a politically loaded context Jaarsma sought to provide on-lookers and participants with a degree of experience and understanding of the Other, (in this case Indonesians of Chinese heritage). Julie Ewington writes of the performance, ‘What might it mean, then, if Muslims could be persuaded to eat a Chinese food, as many Javanese did that night? Perhaps they might come to understand their own intolerance

113 Mella Jaarsma, Retrospection, www.universes-inuniverse.de/woven-maze/jaarsma/ 114 Lisa Byrne www.anu.edu.au/hrc/research/WtoS/Byrne.pdf quoting Mella Jaarsma in Moral Pointers, Exhibition Catalogue, Lontar Gallery, Jakarta, 2002, p.8. 115 Miriam Kelly, Wearing Shelter and Security, in Philament HABITS & HABITAT- June 2008 http://www.arts.usyd.edu.au/publications/philament/issue12_pdfs/KELLY_Jaarsma.pdf, p. 58.

39 towards the customs of others, at the very moment when they take this ‘unclean’ food into their own bodies.’116 Moreover, in the work Hi Inlander, Jaarsma demonstrates a desire to somehow broaden viewers’ experience of different cultures through her work. The work consisted of four ‘costumes’ each made from either frog, kangaroo, fish or chicken skin. On the opening night performers wearing the ‘costumes’ mingled with gallery goers and later prepared food in the gallery space to serve to the audience. Members of the audience, inspired by the act of cooking, voluntarily participated in preparing the food. Jaarsma says, ‘…it turned out that the Chinese started to cooperate with the French to cook the frog-legs and they served them to people who had never eaten them before. The same happened with the kangaroo meat, cooked by Aboriginals and other Australians. It was eaten by people like me, who had never eaten that kind of thing before. Like tourists, we got a little bit more understanding of being someone from another culture.’117

Certainly, throughout Jaarsma’s work we can observe her drive to mitigate racial intolerance by facilitating situations designed to provide people with the chance to experience aspects of different cultures. In attempting to blur the line between ‘us’ and ‘them’, Self and Other, it seems the artist hopes that ‘we’ may become more tolerant of racial diversity. On the contrary, Irreversible Encounters and the Point of No Return! does not aim to provide a remedy for limiting and judgmental identity stereotypes, nor does it necessarily seek to broaden viewers’ minds. Rather, it seeks to reveal stereotypes and preconceptions extant in the way we view ourselves and others, in order to explore the complexities and contradictions inherent to the process of Othering.

116 Ewington, The Problem of Location in Beyond the Future: The Third Asia-Pacific Triennial of Contemporary Art, p. 62. 117 Mella Jaarsma, Retrospection, www.universes-inuniverse.de/woven-maze/jaarsma/

40

Chapter 5: Under My Skin & Under My Skin II

Under My Skin and Under My Skin II (figures 28 - 32) are wall-mounted installations that combine the iconic and stereotyped symbol of Australia, the kangaroo, with traditional Thai line work inspired by Thai temple design. The works play with identity stereotypes and symbols that are often associated with notions of the exotic, both in Thai and Australian cultures.

Under My Skin consists of four medium-sized kangaroo skins of equal size, which are hung in a line on the wall with the tails pointing upwards. Into each skin an identical ornate Thai pattern is cut, and the surrounding hair shaved to further reveal the intricacy of the pattern. Under My Skin II is very similar in form, however, it comprises one large and two smaller kangaroo skins; the larger skin is hung in the centre with the two smaller skins flanking it on either side. The large skin contains an intricate pattern, the central section of which is repeated in the two smaller skins. The natural shape of the kangaroo skin when it is positioned ‘upside down’ (tail pointing upwards) mirrors the flame- like form of the traditional Thai motifs cut into the skins, serving to further merge these two seemingly disparate symbols.

The symbol of the kangaroo is a potent, yet somewhat predictable, emblem of Australia. The use of the kangaroo skin in the work, then, deliberately plays upon the stereotypical nature of the kangaroo as an Australian icon and was directly inspired by multiple interactions with Thai people and Thai popular culture. A studio diary written during 2004 whilst living in Chiang Mai records, ‘When told that I come from Australia, people smile manically, lift their hands up as paws in front of their chests and exclaim, ‘Oh! Kangaroo!’118 Furthermore, in 1999, in the southern Thai resort city of Krabi, a young Australian girl was murdered. A number of days later police found and arrested her murderers; the headline in the local paper read, ‘Ghost of Kangaroo Girl Finds Killers!’ Evidently, in the Thai lexicon, where the word ‘farang’ serves to define Westerners in general, the word ‘jing-jo’ (‘kangaroo’) may serve, in some circumstances, as an adjective to distinguish Australian people. The use of the kangaroo skin in Under My Skin and Under My Skin II directly references the way that the kangaroo in Thailand is often seen as being synonymous with Australia. In the work, then, the kangaroo can be read as a symbol of the Self of the artist, yet ironically it is an identification framed by external Thai constructions of Otherness; the artist defines herself through the eyes of those who identify her as Other.

The kangaroo, then, functions as a symbol for the displaced Self of the artist in the socio-cultural environs of Thailand. The literal skin of the kangaroo becomes the metaphoric skin of the artist, and it is as if in transcribing symbols of ‘Thainess’, or Thai identity into the skin of the kangaroo, the artist seeks to etch the physically invisible effects of living intimately within another culture into her own skin. It is an attempt to validate her sense of belonging to her adopted culture, in the face of a subconscious acknowledgement of the inevitability of not-belonging (as discussed above). The title of the works,

118 Katherine Olston, Studio Diary, 2004.

41 Under My Skin and Under My Skin II, refer to the way we both consciously and unconsciously assume and embody cultural sensibilities through exposure to societal norms and a desire to fit in - to not be entirely marginalized - within our habitual environment.

Moreover, the motifs inscribed into the skins are inspired by Thai line work generally used to decorate temples. The specific designs in the work were copied, modified and embellished from an instructive Thai drawing text, the forms of which are based around lotus flowers, leaves, rice sheaves, flames and dragons, among other things. Thus, whilst the motifs appear distinctly ‘Thai’, they are a slightly morphed version, interpreted and therefore partially distanced from the original.

Present in the work is the existence of two seemingly disparate entities, both of which can symbolise an exotic Otherness, depending on context. The kangaroo is a powerful international signifier of an exotic and unique Australian-ness and multiple variations of it abound as souvenirs ready for the consumption of tourists wanting to take home a ‘piece’ of Australia. Likewise, the Thai design work functions as a readily identifiable symbol of an exotic ‘Asian’ Otherness, calling to mind sacred mandalas, Buddhist chants and golden temples; such designs are widely employed on Thai souvenirs for the consumption of tourists, both western and from other Asian countries. Yet the symbolism is not only of an exotic Other, but also simultaneously, of a familiar Self. The kangaroo in Australia, may function as a symbol of the Australian Self - it appears on our coat of arms - and the Thai temple motifs in Thailand signify a key aspect of Thai nationhood. Thus, the work overlays distinct symbols of exoticness and national identification from both Thai and Australian cultures. Juxtaposed within the works and dependant on the context in which they are viewed, are concurrent symbols of Australia as exotic Other, and Australia as familiar Self, Thailand as intriguing Other, and Thailand as identifiable Self. In this way the work highlights the relativity of identity and the constant and dynamic play between notions of Self and Other.

In merging these two iconic entities the work becomes an artifact in its own right, resembling some kind of ancient souvenir, or museum object whose place or origin is ambiguous. It has come from both worlds - from Thailand and Australia – and now partially belongs to both worlds, but fully to neither. The work is an artifact of its circumstances, and having transcended the pull between binary associations of Self and Other, it now occupies a third, or liminal space.

Embodying the in-between: Liminality in the work of Dacchi Dang

The Vietnamese-born Australian artist, Dacchi Dang creates photographic sculpture installations that draw on his multiple and diverse experiences of Otherness. Dang’s autobiographical experiences emphasise the contingent nature of constructions of Self and Other and demonstrate the inclination of humans in general to construct Others against which to formulate conceptions of Self. Dang was born in Vietnam to a family of Chinese heritage, and

42 therefore to mainstream Vietnamese society was viewed as periphery to the dominant culture. In addition, his status as a South Vietnamese guaranteed that after the ‘Vietnam War’119 he was seen as Other to the victorious North Vietnamese; consequently Dang and his family were forced to flee Vietnam to Australia. Despite having lived in Australia for the past twenty-five years, Dang is viewed as Other by the dominant white Anglo-Australian culture due to his Vietnamese heritage and also his status as a ‘boat person’ or refugee. Thus, in the context of Australia and within western discourses of Otherness, Dang fulfils the criteria of Other; indeed, in the context of his life experiences, past and present, this is an undisputable fact. It is this negotiation of personal experiences of Otherness that conceptually connects the work of the project and Dang’s work.

Dang’s work, Liminal (figures 33 - 35) is a complex and multi-layered installation incorporating photography and sculpture. Nine discs are laid out, evenly spaced on the floor of the gallery. Within each disc are a series of photographs depicting streetscapes from both Vietnam and France. In the centre of each disc is a colourful, mandala-like circular pattern, which unifies the photographs around the disc’s edges.

The work mirrors the multi-layered co-extant and contradictory aspects that comprise Dang’s experience. On one hand, the sepia tone photographs portray scenes of both traditional rural, and contemporary life in Vietnam. In these photos France asserts its presence in the form of vestiges of colonial buildings constructed during its occupation of Vietnam in the 19th and 20th centuries. On the other hand, alternative photos, taken by Dang during a residency in France, depict architectural and social spaces along with scenes of French-Vietnamese immigrants. The images in combination reflect the very fabric, which has contributed to Dang’s experience of his own identity. As Damien March notes in a catalogue essay, ‘The circular, cyclic motion of each image reflects the interrelated nature of two cultures confronting each other, and then slowly melding. The images act as a storage space of multiple layers, or spheres, of information varying with how each viewer accesses, relates, recalls or responds.’120 As with Under My Skin and Under My Skin II the multiple and varied positions of the audience results in the work’s potential to be interpreted in a variety of ways.

The success of Liminal lies in the way the work embodies the artist’s multifaceted and simultaneous experiences of Otherness and Self, merging connected, but seemingly fragmented elements into a cohesive whole. The result is an object an in-between space; it belongs partially to both places – Vietnam and France – yet completely to neither. In this way, too, the work, whilst not directly visually drawing on Dang’s experience in Australia, conceptually references his position as insider/outsider; he is accepted as a ‘Vietnamese-Australian’, and is a citizen, yet in many areas of Australia he would still be positioned as Other to mainstream society. March asserts, ‘This work manifests the very liminality of Dang’s political and existential status, one

119 It is interesting to note that in Vietnam the same war is referred to as the ‘American War’. 120 Damien March, Liminal, in The Revenge of Genres: Australian Contemporary Art, (ainu production, 2007), p. 142.

43 that is common to all refugees: they are held to no longer belong to their homeland, nor are they unconditionally accepted into the land of their exile….’121

Liminal is a concrete manifestation of Dang’s own liminal status, and the way he has painstakingly juxtaposed, interwoven and overlaid the elements in the work demonstrates an understanding of the complex social, political and historical conditions that have contributed to his lived reality and the formation of his identity. Likewise, the physical processes involved in making Under My Skin and Under My Skin II – the marking and cutting into the kangaroo skin – signals an attempt by the artist to understand and embody her own in- between status.

Consequently, despite significant differences in both artists’ life experiences, there are numerous similarities between Liminal and Under My Skin and Under My Skin II. The works all demonstrate the melding together of disparate elements symbolising multiple and varied aspects of the artists’ identities and experience. In both instances, the creation of artifact-like objects reminiscent of two cultures, yet speaking for a third in-between space, signifies a displaced sense of belonging on behalf of the artists, and an acknowledgement of their in-between status as members of at least one society or culture to which they will never fully belong.

121 Ibid, p.42.

44

Chapter 6: Dok Gluay Maai

Dok Gluay Maai (figures 36 – 42) is a single-channel video installation exploring the paradigmatic construction of farang as Other to the Thai Self. The work corrupts binary oppositions of Self/Other interrogating fixed ideals of identity. In addition, the work investigates the power and role that language plays in determining degrees of cultural belonging. The title of the video work, Dok Gluay Maai is a transliteration of the Thai word for ‘orchid flower’, which is a popular symbol of Thailand both nationally and internationally; Thai Airways, for example, gives out orchid corsages to its passengers. The name of the work references Thai ideals of femininity – though these are not unique to Thailand – of women being fragile, exotic and beautiful, just like precious flowers.

In the foreground of the video, a Caucasian woman performs a slow, erotic dance routine to the camera, hips gyrating and hands caressing her own body as she moves about the ‘stage’ to some unheard, internal rhythm. She wears the typical attire of the erotic dancer, or stripper. She is topless with gold pasties (nipple covers), a short, cut-off denim skirt and high heels. In the background, poised in silent observance is a golden statue of a large, male kangaroo. The audio accompanying the 10-minute video is largely ambient sound of the woman dancing until, nearing the conclusion, four Thai sentences intoned in a soft, female voice can be heard. As the voice begins the final sentence, the camera cuts to a close up of the dancer’s face revealing that it is her is in fact speaking.

These four sentences stem from stereotypical Thai ideas intrinsic to the construction of the notion of farang, and are directly inspired by assumptions incessantly encountered whilst living in Thailand regarding the nature and behaviour of westerners (some of which are mentioned in the introduction). The sentences are translated as follows,

Thai people say that farang are fat, but I see that some farang are fat, some are thin…just like Thai people.

Thai people say that farang are rich, but I see that some farang are rich, some are poor…just like Thai people.

Thai people say that farang can’t eat spicy food, but I see that some farang can eat spicy food, and some cannot…just like Thai people.

Thai people say that farang women are promiscuous, but I see that some farang women are, and some aren’t like that at all…just like Thai people.

Fundamental to the work is the way the dancer presents herself in accordance with Thai constructions of farang. The dancer as stripper mimics the Thai assumption that western women are promiscuous, and as such is a physical and visual manifestation of projections of farang. This aspect of the work provides a pertinent example of the way that projections of Otherness

45 become internalised by those designated as Other. Furthermore, this internalisation of external stereotypes reveals that the dancer is viewing and judging herself through the very same structures that define her as Other. As Kobena Mercer suggests ‘such [externally constructed] stereotypes, however disavowed, may nevertheless act as ‘internal foreign objects’ around which self-perception is always ‘alienated’ by the way in which one is perceived by others as the Other.’122 In this way, the work interrogates binary formulations of Self/Other by presenting a situation where the Other is encountering themselves through the ‘eyes’ of the external dominant culture.

Yet, in addition to embodying these stereotypes, the performer simultaneously contests them, signalling the reluctance to completely accept the conditions imposed upon her. She does this simply through her physical presence – although she is a farang, she is not fat – and through words, pointing out the over simplistic and generalised nature of the stereotypes and highlighting the fact that such traits, in the negative or positive, are not exclusive to farang. The fact, too that she speaks Thai, subverts yet another common assumption that foreigners do not speak Thai. The final sentence, which pertains to the sexual promiscuity of western women tackles a stereotype based on gender as well as race.123 Coupled with the woman performing an erotic dance, the sentence emphasises the fact that the endeavour is not to disprove such cultural assumptions by affirming their binary opposite, but to subvert the premise that farang act and exist as one homogenised mass, and further, that generic aspects of everyday lives are, inherently, profoundly divergent depending on one’s race or ethnicity.

Furthermore, Dok Gluay Maai challenges the western audiences’ position as ‘We-self’. As discussed above in Falang! Falang!: A New Context the western audience is apt to read the work from the position of dominant Self. Thus, ironically, as sexual availableness is also a stereotype held by the west pertaining to Asian women, the potential exists for the western viewer to interpret the work as a judgement on the Thai sex industry, or even on the sexual promiscuity of Thai/Asian women. The disembodied ‘Thai’ voice which surfaces towards the end of the video, however, alienates the non-Thai speaker, thrusting them to the periphery and usurping their assumed position as dominant Self.

As Franz Fanon states, ‘Mastery of language affords remarkable power’,124 therefore, by withdrawing the power of language, the non-Thai speaker is disempowered. The situation mimics that which is experienced when being immersed in a foreign culture where you cannot speak the language; there is

122 Kobena Mercer, Busy in the Ruins of Wretched Phantasia in Mirage: Enigmas of Race, Difference and Desire, (Institute of International Visual Arts, 1995), p.28. 123 Female promiscuity, in many cultures, including Thai culture is derided, whereas male promiscuity is accepted, if not encouraged. On the Jerry Springer show, for example he interviewed a variety of female strippers and at the end of the show issued warnings to any females contemplating the profession. Male strippers, similarly interviewed, emanated a ‘macho’ aura, and were well received by Springer and his audience; and no similar warning was issued. (Katherine Liepe-Levinson, Strip Show; Performances of Gender and Desire, (Routledge, 2002), p. 92.) 124 Fanon, Black Skin, White Masks, p. 18.

46 a sense of a loss of power and vulnerability in not being able comprehend others, nor make yourself understood. In addition, the presence of the Thai voice further subverts the western viewers’ assumption of the central position, as the voice appears to observe and judge the Caucasian woman in the video. Through language, the Thai-speaking audience is able to assert their position as dominant ‘We-self’.

Thus, when we see the dancer’s face and the source of the voice is disclosed, previously formed assumptions are fractured and the swing between binary oppositions of Self and Other confused. It is no longer possible to conveniently position either the Thai or the westerner as Self or Other. In speaking Thai, the dancer has become simultaneously Self and Other, observed and observer. The position of the dancer is one of ambivalence; in speaking Thai her position has shifted from that of a westerner looking in at Thai culture from the outside, to that of an insider/outsider. In speaking Thai, she is positioned outside western culture and inside Thai culture, but by being a westerner she remains outside Thai culture.

Language functions as a powerful symbol of cultural belonging, and as Fanon offers, ‘To speak a language is to take on a world, a culture.’125 As language is something acquired over a significant period of time, to speak a language demonstrates a relatively high level of dedication and/or immersion in a culture, whether it be the one you were born into, or an adopted one. Thus, through the dancer’s use of Thai she displays her credentials as a member of Thai culture, not only to a Thai audience, but also to a non-Thai speaking audience. As Fanon writes of the ‘Negro of the Antilles’, acceptance (or lack there of) into French society, ‘ [he] will be proportionately whiter – that is, he will come closer to being a real human being – in direct ratio to his mastery of the French language.’126 The same may be said of the farang in relation to Thai society. Recalling Winichaikul, (as discussed in Chapter 4), acceptance into the dominant culture is conditional and only ever partial; no matter how well the farang speaks Thai, or how culturally aware, they will never fulfil the elusive criteria that is ‘Thainess’.

Moreover, the fact that acceptance is contingent on the extent to which the Other adopts acceptable cultural modes of behaviour reveals another level of racism. Fanon asserts ‘The colonized is elevated above his jungle status in proportion to his adoption of the mother country’s cultural standards. He becomes whiter as he renounces his blackness, his jungle.’127 A similar attitude prevails in Thailand when farang are told, ostensibly as a compliment, and as a way to explain a high level of acceptance into Thai society ‘Oh, she’s a Thai person now.’ Because this particular farang adheres to and performs in accordance with key ideals of Thai selfhood (polite, demure, respectful etc.) and demonstrates an understanding of Thai cultural codes, she must ‘be’ Thai. The inference here is that one cannot possibly possess all these positive traits associated with Thainess and also be a farang; the farang needs to stay firmly situated in their role as inverse to the Thai Self, and embodying all that

125 Ibid, p. 38. 126 Ibid, p. 18. 127 Ibid, p. 18.

47 the Thai are not.

In addition, the costume worn by the dancer is imbued with meaning. The cut- off denim skirt whilst clearly emulating typical ‘stripper’ attire, also references the stereotypical ‘western’ clothing of blue jeans.128 In their capacity as a symbol of westernization blue jeans along with coca cola, fast food and consumerism in general, have been blamed for the deterioration of Thai identity, as offered by Sulak Sivaraksa in his paper ‘The Crisis of Siamese Identity’.129 In addition, the dancer’s belt, a blue, red and white silk stripy tie is a multivalent reference to the colours of national flags; these are the colours of the Thai, Australian, British, American, and French flags among others; thus, providing an opportunity for viewers to attach meaning depending on where they locate themselves in relation to the dancer. Finally, the gold pasties, made from gold leaf, and the gold shoes connect the dancer to the kangaroo who watches silently from the background.

The kangaroo sculpture (figures 40 - 42) in the video is modelled on an adult male, grey kangaroo of approximately equal height to the dancer. The surface of the sculpture is entirely covered in small squares of gold leaf about 1cm x 1cm in size. The gold leaf is attached only in the centre of the square, allowing the corners to lift, curl up and be moved by the breeze. The technique for applying the gold leaf invokes the way that devotees make merit at Buddhist temples in Thailand by sticking small squares of gold leaf onto statues of the Buddha (figure 43). The layers of gold leaf, placed randomly on the statue, quiver in the wind and gradually flake and peel off as more are added in an endless cycle of merit making.

In the video, the kangaroo functions as an alter ego to the dancer, standing in silent observance, hovering in the background, not consciously acknowledged but ever present. As discussed above, the kangaroo is a symbol of the Self (the artist), yet here it simultaneously embodies a tangible Otherness; it is male, animal and covered in gold; it is not quite real, seeming to exist on another plane to the dancer. Ironically, the kangaroo as a symbol of Australian farang is a manifestation of Thai constructions of Otherness; thus, for the dancer the means by which she is attempting to reclaim her identity – through identification with the Australian kangaroo – is an existential confabulation governed by externally constructed stereotypes. In this sense, the dancer’s sense of identity is divided in three: the Self, the Other and the experience of her Self from a Thai perspective. Fanon writes of a similar fragmentation of identity after being confronted on a train by a white child who is scared of him because he is black. ‘In the train it was no longer a question of being aware of my body in the third person but in a triple person. In the train I was given not one but two, three places…It was not that I was finding febrile coordinates in the world. I existed triply: I occupied space. I moved toward the other…and the evanescent other, hostile but not opaque, transparent, not there,

128 Even though many Thais have been wearing jeans for years, they are still seen as being distinctly ‘western’, in a similar way that the sarong is viewed as distinctly Thai. 129 Sulak Sivaraksa, The Crisis of Siamese Identity in National Identity and Its Defenders, ed. Craig J. Reynolds, Centre of Southeast Asian Studies, (Monash University, Aristoc Press, 1991) p. 46.

48 disappeared.’130 The kangaroo is thus a symbol of the elusive nature of identity and of Self.

The work Dok Gluay Maai emphasises the shifting, multivalent and contingent nature of Self, and thus of Other, and highlights the fact that identity may not be defined or understood by anything as simplistic as a binary Self/Other divide. As Said maintains, ‘Rather than the manufactured clash of civilisations, we need to concentrate on the slow working together of cultures that overlap, borrow from each other, and live together in far more interesting ways than any abridged or inauthentic mode of understanding can allow.’ 131

Contingent identities: Otherness in the work of ‘Moti Roti’

‘Moti Roti’ are a UK based performance company whose work interrogates the notion that identity is fixed and challenges stereotypical assumptions regarding race, gender and sexuality. ‘Moti Roti’ was established in 1991 by artist Keith Khan, and the company’s various large-scale performance installations, events for festivals and carnivals, and theatre productions have involved the collaboration of many artists including Ali Zaidi, Nina Edge, Sonia Boyce, Susan Lewis, and Anand Kumar. These artists hail from diverse cultural and ethnic backgrounds, including Trinidad, India, and Pakistan. As Dorothy Rowe writes of the artists involved, ‘Black, white or Asian, male, female, hetero, homo- or trans-, the issue of identity construction escapes the potentially ghettoising categories of ‘black art’ or ‘women’s art’ to confront instances of ‘difference and excess’ within the post-colonial, the hybrid and the diasporic spaces of cultural production within the global city.’132 Thus, the undoing of the fixity of identity is embedded within the company’s working processes and ideals. For the purposes of this paper, one of ‘Moti Roti’s early works, entitled Wigs of Wonderment will be discussed here.

Wigs of Wonderment, (figures 44 – 47) which was first presented as part of the exhibition, ‘Mirage‘133 in 1995, is a complex and multi-layered work exploring identity as being culturally constructed and contingent on context, and thus blurs preconceptions of Self and Other. Furthermore, the work challenges the structures upon which ideals of beauty are founded. Since 1995, the work has been re-staged a number of times, each time adapting to a new site and context; recently a digital version has been produced consisting of an interactive CD-ROM134 which can be ‘played’ at home, or on a gallery computer.

In its initial manifestation, Wigs of Wonderment was a performance installation resembling a ‘deviant beauty salon’135 comprising a series of rooms through

130 Fanon, Black Skin, White Masks, p. 112. 131 Said, Orientalism, p. xxii. 132 Rowe, Cultural Crossings: performing race and transgender in the work of Moti Roti, p. 458. 133 At the Institute of Contemporary Arts, Institute of International Visual Arts, London. 134 Adapted by the Live Art Development Agency in London. 135 Keith Khan, Cultural Morphing in Re-Inventing Britian: Identity, Transnationalism and the Arts, British Studies Now, Issue 9, April, 1997.

49 which viewers moved in stages. The first room was an installation comprising a number of plinths where a selection of beauty products from Africa and the Indian sub-continent were arranged. Viewers then progressed to a one-on- one ‘consultation’ with performers in front of a mirror where they were encouraged to examine personal conceptions of Self in relation to their appearance. Participants were then ushered into another space where they were given a ‘cultural makeover’ and encouraged to choose from a selection of different wigs of various colours and styles. The installation’s other rooms contained a video of an Indian cross-dresser, Anand Kumar, dancing on a busy London shopping street interspersed with images of shoppers’ reactions, a massage room where participants were treated to a head massage using scented oils, and finally a ‘Garden’ room where artist Nina Edge related stories about the healing properties of specific plants.

The first room was essential in establishing the context of the work. The skin lightening and hair straightening beauty products arranged on the plinths promised augmentation of beauty yet did so in adherence with western hegemonic ideals of beauty. Here, the dominant and restrictive framework through which a culturally and racially diverse population might judge their self worth and sense of belonging was emphasised. Following this, the attitude of the black ‘beauticians’ in the ‘makeover’ room, although nurturing and supportive, was deliberately tinged with subtle value judgements, further reinforcing the racial hierarchy of beauty ideals introduced in the first room. In this way the power relations which inform constructions of Self and Other in British society were highlighted, namely the central position of the white subject in the narrative of British identity, and the subsequent marginalisation and Othering of non-whites.

In addition, the activity of choosing and wearing the wigs – facilitated by two Asian performers wearing ‘hair suits’ - initiated discussion as to stereotypical assumptions regarding identity in general. Rowe states, ‘Dressing-up’ with wigs and make-up…enables participants temporarily to adopt gendered and racial identities that might be the antithesis of who they ordinarily think they are.’136 Viewers were thus encouraged to adopt ‘other’ identities and explore cultural assumptions associated with visual signifiers such as hair and skin colour. This was achieved threefold, by the participants’ enactment of a ‘new’ identity through costume (wig and make-up), secondly by them experiencing the reactions of the other participants and performers, and thirdly by their own reactions to other ‘dressed-up’ participants. Dorothy Rowe notes that the black Afro wig and the long blonde wig elicited the most emotive responses, ‘As metonymic signifiers for the dialectical tension between the West and its ‘Others’, these markers of gendered, racial and sexual identity…still exert powerful effects within mythical narrative constructions of beauty and power.’137 For some, the Afro was associated with the Black Power movements of the 1960s and 70s, whilst for some it symbolised a ‘primitive’ African Otherness.138 The long blonde wig also elicited multiple associations,

136 Rowe, Cultural Crossings: performing race and transgender in the work of Moti Roti, p.460. 137 Ibid, p.464. 138 See ibid, p.466.

50 from Hollywood star, to the black session singers of the 1970s, and for many participants it was a potent symbol of ‘…Western constructions of glamorous femininity at its most extreme, artificial and performative…’139 The variety of reactions produced by just two of the wigs stresses the different way visual signifiers of identity can be read depending on context and the position of the viewer. The potency and power in Wigs of Wonderment lies in the way the work exposes the co-existence of multiple and contradictory cultural assumptions. As Rowe points out, ‘no sooner than one set of assumptions has been aired than a totally opposing one is also available, thus exposing the instability of racial and cultural stereotypes and emphasising instead issues of diversity, hybridity and the fragility of individual iden-tifications.’140

Wigs of Wonderment and Dok Gluay Maai both explore experiences of Otherness, investigating prejudices extant in the relative dominant culture. Both works, too, seek to subvert common and simplistic notions of identity, and emphasise the role that external constructions play in the formation of identity. The fundamental framework governing Wigs of Wonderment, however, is meditated on the fact that the west is centre, and is the sole perpetrator responsible for constructing Otherness. The work draws attention to the hegemonic position of the west by first, subverting the relationship by placing black or Asian artists in positions of judgement and power; and secondly, by drawing attention to beauty products that aim to help the user ‘fit- in’ visually in white society. These strategies, whilst successfully highlighting the inequitable power relations between the west and its Others in this context, reinforces the position of the west as dominant Self. As Peggy Phelan (paraphrased by Rowe) asserts, ‘the investment in the visible as a sign of the real, a sign of presence, that has underpinned the philosophy of much of the identity politics practised by sexual and racial minorities over the past few decades, is tactically problematic because it relies for its effects on the very system of representation that it seeks to undermine.’141

On the other hand, Dok Gluay Maai contests the system that maintains the dominant position of the west as centre by examining the location of the westerner, or farang as Other to the dominant Thai Self. In presenting a situation where the westerner is Other, and Thailand – a conventional Other to the west – is Self, the work undermines the system of representation that consistently confirms the west as central, dominant and powerful, opening up a wider forum for the discussion of Otherness.

Furthermore, in Wigs of Wonderment where the concept of the wigs offers the opportunity for viewers to confront a range of cultural assumptions, the idea is predicated on the fact that visual attributes signify identity, and as such is inherently problematic. The equating of visual signifiers such as darker skin, or black hair with Otherness assumes a fixed and restrictive power relationship between a dominant west and its non-white Others. Subverting this power relationship, Dok Gluay Maai presents the possibility that white skin, blonde, red or brown hair, round eyes, a pointy nose or being fat may

139 Ibid, p.466. 140 Ibid, p.466. 141 Peggy Phelan quoted in Ibid p.466.

51 also be symbols of Otherness, and dark skin, black hair and ‘Asian’ eyes, a symbol of the dominant culture. Yet, rather than merely presenting the inverse of fixed positions of identity, the work contests the boundaries which delineate difference and determine dominant power positions by rendering the position of the viewer uncertain. The western viewers’ initial identification with the dancer is confused when it is revealed that she is speaking a ‘foreign’ language, likewise the Thai speaking audience’s separation from the dancer is mitigated upon realising she speaks Thai. The dancer, then, cannot be categorised as either ‘us’ or ‘them’ from the perspective of the audience and the audiences’ position as Self or Other is similarly blurred through partial identification, or lack there of, with the dancer.

♦ ♦ ♦

In conclusion, the research project, Irreversible Encounters and the Point of No Return! interrogates the complex, multivalent and interconnected nature of constructions of Otherness and Self. In exposing the mechanisms intrinsic to the formation of Otherness in general and through detailed examination of the social, political and historical circumstances that have contributed to Thai constructions of farang, the project emphasises the fact that the creation of Others in relation to the Self is by no means unique to any one culture, but is an inherently human compulsion extant in all cultures and communities.

The project delves into the intimate space of the experience of being Other, acknowledging the relative nature of identity and examining issues such as the shock of recognising the Self as Other and the subsequent realisation that the Self may simultaneously be Self and Other. The practice examines the barrier between belonging and not belonging, and the subsequent desire to traverse this barrier through adaptation and the modification of one’s identity, and the futility of this endeavor.

Ultimately, Irreversible Encounters and the Point of No Return! charts the disintegration of a fundamental existential assumption of fixed positions of Self and Other, propelling us into a realm where identity is subjective, contingent, multifaceted, and ever-changing. The project highlights the fact that even though historical contexts may differ, everybody can be someone else’s Other. As Primo Levi writes in his novel, ‘If Not Now When?’ ‘everyone is someone else’s Jew.’142

142 Primo Levi, If Not Now, When? (Penguin, 2000 [1982]), p. 236-237.

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Journals

Effendy, Rifky, Grid, Art Asia Pacific, # 40 Spring 2004, p.75-76

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Lisa Byrne, Mella Jaarsma: Moments like this…, www.anu.edu.au/hrc/research/WtoS/Byrne.pdf

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Kitiarsa, Pattana, Farang as Siamese Occidentalism, Asia Research Institute, Working Paper, No. 49, September 2005, www.ari.nus.edu.sg/pub/wps.htm.

Films

Pinkaew, Prachya, Ong Bak: Muay Thai Warrior, 2003

Pinkaew, Prachya, The Protector, 2005

55 Photo Credits

Figure 1 Katherine Olston 2 Peleggi, Maurizio, Thailand: The Worldly Kingdom, (Reaktion Books, 2007) 3-6 Pinkaew, Prachya, The Protector, 2005 7-12 Katherine Olston 13-18 Orlan 1964 – 2001, Catalogue, (Basque Centre-Museum for Contemporary Art and the Photography Centre of the University of Salamanca, 2002) 19-22 Katherine Olston 23-24 Pinkaew, Prachya, Ong Bak: Muay Thai Warrior, 2003 25-27 Ewington, Julie, The Problem of Location in Beyond the Future: The Third Asia-Pacific Triennial of Contemporary Art, Catalogue, (Queensland Art Gallery, 1999) 28-32 Katherine Olston 33-35 Dacchi Dang 36-42 Katherine Olston 43 Katherine Olston 44 Khan, Naseem, The Art of the Magician: The Work of Keith Khan in A Split Second of Paradise, ed. Nicky Childs & Jeni Walwin, (Rivers Oram Press, 1998) 45-47 Farr, Ragnar, ed. Mirage: Enigmas of Race, Difference and Desire, (Institute of International Visual Arts, 1995)

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