Midpoint: Vandy Rattana
‘Bomb Ponds’, ‘MONOLOGUE’, Ponleu Publishing House
By Ian Tee
Midpoint is a monthly series that invites established Southeast Asian contemporary artists to take stock of their career thus far, reflect upon generational shifts and consider the advantages and challenges of working in the present day. It is part of A&M Dialogues and builds upon the popular Fresh Faces series.
This month’s guest is Cambodian photographer and film-maker Vandy Rattana. Rattana is best known for ‘Bomb Ponds’ (2009), a video and series of photographs that document the lasting effects of the bombs dropped by the United States on Cambodia during the Vietnam War. He continues to focus his lens on the country’s social landscape, actively working against historical amnesia.
In this conversation, Rattana speaks about his roots in photojournalism, the importance of failure, and Ponleu, the Khmer language publishing house he established.
Could you share a decision or event that marked a significant turn in your path as an artist?
I started out as a photojournalist in 2004. The way I take pictures is very serious, in the sense that I do not crop my pictures, and I do not edit them in post-production. The first turning point was in 2009 when I encountered the bomb ponds. They were still shot in a documentary style, true to reality. It was not about finding an interesting angle to take pictures. I just wanted to photograph human involvement in creating these kinds of scars. I was shocked by the silence around this history of bombing in Cambodia.
It took me quite some time to redefine myself and my practice. In 2015, I made a film called ‘Monologue’ which I can say is a demi-documentary. It is about my sister who died in 1978, during the Khmer Rouge regime which lasted from 1975 to 1979. With this work, I changed the philosophy in my practice and worked with fiction.
When have been milestone achievements for you as an artist?
I think my life as an artist or photographer is a complete failure. I do not believe in success. For me, success does not exist. I think failure is more interesting and dynamic. It keeps me going, I like taking action and learning from failure.
Of course, there are many memorable activities and moments along the way, such as creating a collective (Stiev Selapak), then a gallery (Sa Sa Art Gallery), and then the break up. You know, both the sweet and the sour. For me, it is not about success, I think of it more as souvenirs.
Could you walk us through a typical day?
Oh my god, I just stay in my room. I think solitude is quite interesting. Some people say that solitude or being alone is the source of creation. But it is also dangerous for the authorities, because the person starts to think and question things. I am now based in Taipei and it is a good place to think.
Do you have a dedicated workspace or studio?
I do not believe in having a studio. Some people find inspiration when they go outside or they get things done in a coffee shop. For me, it does not work. It is very important for me to be in complete silence. I can stay in my room forever haha!
What routine do you follow to nourish yourself or your artistic practice?
When I see something or have a feeling when I am outside, I create poems in my head. It can be a phrase, or a line that I write down. These words come back to me when I make films and I incorporate them. Interestingly, these poems are in English rather than Khmer, my mother tongue. They are also in prose and not verses. It is something I write for myself and keep. Even though my wife has asked me to publish the poems or short stories, I have no intentions to do so. Perhaps they can be published posthumously, like how Franz Kafka’s friend Max Brod ignored his wishes to burn all his manuscripts.
What are your thoughts on the opportunities and challenges faced by artists from Cambodia? Has the situation changed as compared to when you started out in the early 2000s?
There was almost no art scene in Cambodia in 2006. Today, there are more art activities but things are moving very slowly. People’s mentality is different because Cambodia is not an industrial country, so we have a different sense of time and are not as well-organised. I realised this after living in France, Japan, and Taiwan. For example, when I have meetings with friends in Cambodia, they might not be punctual and respect the time I have allocated for the meeting. This used to anger me, but thinking back, I was that way in the past too. Living abroad has shaped my outlook, and developed my desire to be more organised and rigorous.
When my friends ask me why the art scene is so quiet in Cambodia, I say it is because we are not from the industrial world. I do not know if it is a good or bad thing either. More than the practical problem of having institutions such as a contemporary art museum, I think the Cambodian art scene needs to think about what it truly wants. Is it just about networking or do we want to build something that lasts many decades? Our conservative education system and the lack of a culture of criticism are also problems. The art school does not nurture imagination or thinking outside the box. People find it difficult to distinguish between criticism and insult.
What piece of advice would you give to a young artist or practitioner?
It is difficult to give any advice, because each of us is unique. But I think if someone wants to become an artist, just be prepared for failure and poverty. People define success and failure in different ways, but for me, failure is the foundation. I do not think success exists. What is important is the activity and the practice.
Films are notoriously expensive to produce, and funding opportunities may only come by infrequently. As a practical question, how do you sustain yourself between each project?
When I do sell my work, the money is spent very quickly on equipment or the next project. To be honest, I am still looking for a strategy to keep production going. One way I have experimented with is to make my team members co-producers. That is, they also have a share in the profits from the film. Rather than spending time to look for funding, we need good ideas and mutual trust. I hate begging for money because so much time is wasted on drafting proposals. I just want to do work with what I have. You can say it is a “socialist” approach. My goal is to have the film made.
What do you think has been or is your purpose?
A sense of criticality or protesting keeps me going. Art has a sense of action or protesting; it can be direct or symbolic. I do not want to point the finger at someone or blame anyone, but instead, I want to say “this is us”. It could be critiquing a narrow-minded set of moral values which are defined by humans. For example, in Cambodia, it is socially unacceptable for couples who are not married to live together. But why not? It is just a belief that people follow which limits their individual freedom. When you blindly believe, you give away everything, particularly your freedom.
When I moved to France in 2012, I was exposed to books and ideas which challenged the history I learnt in Cambodia. I needed to accept that the people whom I thought to be my heroes are actually my enemies. It was emotionally difficult, but I was able to do it because I had the facts. This is also why I established a publishing house called Ponleu which means enlightenment in Khmer. It is funded from selling my work as well as money from family members. Currently, we have published five books on literature and philosophy. One of them is a children’s book called ‘What is Happiness?’, which my wife and I translated from French to Khmer. It is written by Oscar Brenifier, with illustrations by Catherine Meurisse. We posted about it on Facebook and a woman commented on how heavy the content is.
As Cambodians start creating more art, films, and writings, I think we need to pay attention to this knowledge base. Ponleu’s publications are a small contribution to the intellectual foundation.
The interview has been edited.
Access the full Midpoint series here.