Izat Arif - Aku Tahu Asal Kau Jadi

IZAT ARIF

Aku Tahu Asal Kau Jadi

Aku Tahu Asal Kau Jadi

(I know the origin from which you spring)

This booklet accompanies Izat Arif’s presentation “Aku Tahu Asal Kau Jadi” for S.E.A. Focus 2024, 20-28 January 2024, Tanjong Pagar District Park, Singapore.

supported by:

A�endix 1: �e Many Fears of the Malay Malaysian Man Karl Nadzarin

Kiblat Compass

It is 7 a.m. on a Friday in the month of Dhul-Hijjah, the best of all the hours, and the Traditional Malay Man is digging a hole to build the central pillar of his yet unseen house where both dream and fear reside. This pillar, the tiang seri, will serve as a physical and spiritual foundation for the family home. Before erecting the pillar, the Man must first determine whether the plot of land he wishes to settle on is appropriate.

He clears the ground, lays down four sticks in the shape of a rectangle, pulls up a handful of soil from the centre, and recites: ‘Ho, children of Mentri Guru/Who dwell in the four corners of the world/I crave this plot as boon/If it is good, show me a good omen/If it is bad, show me a bad omen.’¹ The Man wraps the soil in a white cloth pouch, bathes it in kemenyan (benzoin incense), and places it under his pillow at night. The pleasantness of his dream will signify blessings for the land, whereas a horrific one would spell otherwise. Certainty is essential to the Man to allay his fears – there are snakes beyond the walls, and invisible things far more sinister.

He has a family to protect.

Ideally, the mother of the house – the Man’s wife – is the one to receive visions during slumber. For the tiang seri is placed in the core and most elevated part of the house named Rumah Ibu (Mother House), and is itself some-

times called the Mother Pillar. In fact, the preceding house-building rituals are usually performeby a hired shaman who even provides the house’s measurements based on a system that relies on the length of the mother’s outstretched arms. Where then is the place of the father – the Malay Man?

These rituals, mantras, divinations, and astrological calendars, have their origins in the oral traditions of the Malay world but can also be found partly documented in, among others, the Tajul Muluk (Crown of Kings) manuscript which originated from Aceh; and the British colonialorientalist writings of Walter W. Skeat in ‘Malay Magic’. Such Malay magic and customs of the everyday, give a sense of how those who practise(d) them relate to the world around them,

thereby adding to an idea of a Malay identity.

And within them, are marks left behind by history.

When installing the tiang seri, the mantra to be read (as recited in Izat Arif ’s Tetar Tanah video) begins: ‘Hei, Raja Guru, Maharaja guru/You are the sons of Batara Guru/I know the origin from which you spring/From the flashing of lightning spurs/I know the origin from which you spring/From the drop of a dew/I know the origin of which you spring/From the brightening of daybreak’². The Batara Guru is the Malay conception of Lord Shiva, pointing clearly to the Malay’s deep-rooted Hindu-Buddhist past. This tiang seri mantra will help to fence off the house from evil and keep its occupants safe from harm. The mantra continues: ‘Hei, Spectre of the Earth, Brains of the Earth, Demon of the Earth/Retire ye hence to depths of the ocean/To the peace of the primeval forest/Betwixt you and me/Division was made by Adam.’ The Man is comforted, his wife and son have yet another level of protection unless the spell is broken by some taboo. He must keep to his daily prayers – all five of them – to keep it strong, warns the shaman.

The supernatural beings that inhabit the earth in the tiang seri mantra directs the reader to another Malay past, the animist, and its belief in semangat, the spirit of life which permeates all things – rock, water, plant, animal, house, man.

Islam then came to the shores of the Malay world, with its strength being its openness to local customs and traditions. Thus, apart from Islamic verses and themes employed as words of power,

all Malay mantras now begin and end with praises to Allah and their prophets. For while the Malay Muslim engages the spirits, he only submits to God.

Screen capture from video Tetar Tanah (chachak tiang seri) by Izat Arif

Malay magic is and has always been plural and cosmopolitan. Its fluidity mirrors the way the Malay handles changes in their world. While in constant movement, their mantras impress upon the listener the need for remembrance of roots. It is little wonder then, other than its rhythmic and otherworldly qualities, that the repetition of ideas, symbols, and sounds is a key characteristic of the Malay mantra. The words are there to fight forgetting. The Malay Man must know the ‘origin of a thing or spirit’ to have ‘magical control over them’.³ And so, to live a peaceful and meaningful life as a Malay Man today he must utter ‘I know the origin from which you spring’ several times to the spirits he must deal with, but also to himself.

The contemporary Malaysian Malay

Man is currently drowning in anxiety. Rapid economic development and urbanisation came with a push towards post-colonial forms of modernity that sees little value in the Malay’s “superstitious” beliefs. But all else of value in tradition became collateral damage. Mahathir Mohamad, Malaysia’s longest serving Prime Minister, felt that the old ways of the Malays had to be radically cut off for real progress to be made. The nation needs builders, entrepreneurs, and scientists to herald in the dawn of this new era, not poets and philosophers – much less magicians. Yet, the trickle-down effect of Malay capital and riches does not seem to be working its magic.

One half of the Petronas Twin Towers

Malaysia must still do it differently from the wholly secular and corrupting ideas of Western modernity. More ‘modern’ forms of his religion, as institutionalised by the State can now fill in the gaps in the anxious search for a Malay identity. He must now be more puritanical, less tolerant, and revise his histories. A certain kind of contemporary Malaysian Malay is hypnotised by the fiction of a nationalist racial identity of the Malay-Muslim-Man he must now become. He fears losing power in a country where he is the majority and seeks to assert his racial privileges as the new sacred. The elite Malay-Muslim figure on his smartphone screen keeps telling him this.

They take on the repetition of mantras. But in all this, it is really his worldliness, reminds the shaman, that is under threat. For first he was exiled from the heavens, and now he is alienated in the cities.

The modern mantra of ‘Amar Makruf Nahi

Keychain engraved with the text “Amar Makruf Nahi Mungkar”

Mungkar’, having Islamic roots, is the motto of a notorious ultra-nationalist NGO network for the contemporary Malaysian-Malay-Muslim cause.

They are strongly connected politically and are known for associating with gang activities. Their motto, meaning ‘enjoining good and forbidding wrong’ speaks to an aggressively masculine moral authority that deals in absolutes, and is asserted within a fragile socio-political ecosystem where race relations are in constant negotiation. The insecurity of being is masked by religious platitudes. “Go back to your origin country!” is another common retort from those who share their sentiments, to anything from questions regarding the possibility of a non-Malay Prime Minister to the inclusion of pork in nasi lemak.

The keris blades that emerge as spiky flames from the bottom of “Keris, Seaweed and Hell Fire” are what they must contend with – a venerated Nusantara weapon that combines Hindu, Buddhist, and Islamic influences but is now subverted into a contemporary symbol of militant ethno-nationalism. Their struggle is in the resistance of their past.

On the other end of the modern mantra spectrum, is the ‘Live, Laugh, Love’ variety that is seemingly unburdened by local tradition and conflict. Perhaps this is the refuge of those of us who cannot bear the pains of the current any longer. At least there is alliteration to take comfort in. Everyone is finding ways to deal with the now.

So does the father who is grasping at straws, taking whatever is around him to provide for the wellbeing of those under his care. The Arabic

Izat Arif, Landscape Architecture Will Save Us All From Environmental Catastrophes, Graphite on paper, 85 x 60 cm, 2023

letters in ‘Angel POV and Some Other Devices’ spell out ‘Ha’ and ‘Wau’, alluding to a typically Malaccan insult of the playful sort. This is based on mystical diagrams referred to as ‘Wafaq’ that commonly contain letters and numbers that appear random and nonsensical to the unfamiliar.

These Wafaq are now popular consumer items on e-commerce platforms.

Wafaq

In grappling with identity and fatherhood, with all the fears, insecurities, and ideals that are both coming from and projected unto him, the contemporary Malay Man must make sense of it all in a way only he knows how. Cultural identity is never static and for better or worse, is always honest. In ‘Father & Son’, the jawi script assumes another mystical or religious quality. It is a transliteration of the lyrics to a Cat Stevens song. The source is superficially Islamic (for the singer is otherwise known as Yusuf Islam after his conversion) but the words are fundamentally sacred. The Malay Man is here, self-assured, presenting a Western song in the form of a customary Malay amulet. But this time, it is not about the fight or struggle. This time, it serves to give him peace.

There will always be snakes outside the door, my son. Just relax, take it easy. This Malay Man has, for this one brief moment, found his way.

¹ Translation by Walter W. Skeat in Malay Magic ² Own translation combined with Skeat’s ³ Richard Winstedt, ‘The Malay Magician’

Izat Arif, Angel POV And Some Other Devices, Graphite on paper, 85 x 60 cm, 2023

Book cover of Tajul Muluk

Izat Arif, Dreaming Of A Better Gated Community, Graphite on paper, 85 x 60 cm, 2023

A�endix 2: Taj Murah: �e McMansions of Southeast Asia

Ihsan Hassan

Before we proceed – let's be clear: McMansions are an obscenity. The spectrum of opinion on them varies from being offensive to the eyes to outright immorality. One is never indifferent to a McMansion, except if you’re a psychopath.

“You know it when you see it.”

“Pre-recession, post-taste.”

“McMansion. Latest iPhone. Entry-level foreign car.

Soul-crushing debt.”

“The Successful Middle-Class Starter Pack.”

“Roman pillar. Batu botol.”

“We were inspired by the Halls of Mirror, Versailles!”

“Late Pretentious Period, Anthropocene.”

“Money-can’t-buy-taste Starter Pack.”

The memes go on – the entire world has converged on hating McMansions.

Batu Botol

For the uninitiated, McMansions are modern houses of disproportionate size, mainly found in suburbs and often designed in a kind of faux-classical or traditional architecture. The French may not take it as flattery, but often their architecture is the main source of inspiration for this global phenomenon. In the United States, McMansions can be mass-produced houses that look identical to each other and spread across a suburban residential area. The agglomeration of such houses creates a hyperreal fantasy land not too dissimilar from the themed residential centers in China, another global capital of McMansions.

In front of Farah’s bungalow

McMansions are more than an architectural style; they are a cultural emergent. The societies that produce them tend to have the following symptoms: highly unequal wealth distribution, an uninhibited real estate industry, and a populace that inhabits an extremely globalized media culture.

McMansions are a natural consequence in Jakarta, Klang Valley, provincial suburbs of China, India, Turkey... the list goes on.

The controversial Malaysian businessman and social media celebrity, Aliff Syukri, for example, openly admits that his opulent McMansion was based on the houses of “Celine Dion, Shahrukh Khan, and the Sultan of Brunei,” and his furniture is all imported from Europe. That McMansions are part of the global consumption of media from Hollywood, and the United States in general, is naturally self-evident. What was initially

pure fantasy on TV and cinema became imitated as reality itself. Simulacra-pura, or Simu-pore.

McMansions should be opposed. This voracious import of idiotic things from Western media culture has led to a massive waste of resources. So much of that wealth generated by our growth and national prosperity have been lost to these monstrosities. It could have been used for patronage of our architectural tradition and craftsmanship—whether it is modern, vernacular, or classical—to further our own cultural discourse free from the shadow of the former colonial powers.

Take the so-called “Roman Pillar”: the version of classical architecture applied by McMansions is a Hollywood version of the knowledge-world. It’s a pastiche of different styles intended to create a fantasy to be sold to an extremely aspirational population. Whereas, genuine Classical architecture is a rich tradition with a time-ennobled practice of studying precedents and literary texts.

Its practitioners (now a rarity in today’s dominant Modernist dogma) often remark that classical design is analogous to the use of language. It has syntax and grammar. At the hand of a master, this language transforms into poetry. It is an exercise of subtlety. In the West, these grammatical rules are known as Orders (Doric, Ionic, Corinthian, and so on...). Southeast Asia’s classical traditions are no different - across the region, there are multiple dialects of classical and traditional architecture. In our region, the classical architectural

Pre made concrete Roman Pillars

Catalogue of pre made concrete Roman Pillars

tion is a beautiful mosaic of interconnected histories, peoples, migration, colonial and pre-colonial heritage. Some have its roots in the earliest Austronesian migration, and some from ancient texts and traditions of later migrants and colonists from China, India, and Europe.

Advertisement for Tunjuk Langit (Balau Wood)

Almost half a century has passed since architecture schools across the world started abandoning classical and traditional design methods, producing several generations of architects solely adept in Modernist methods. In the absence of architects well-trained in classical architecture, the public demand for traditional and familiar build-

ings is met with ironic and willful responses from the Modernist design community. Classical buildings by Modernist architects are mostly “Learning from Las Vegas” and bogged down by the unending moral panic against ornamentation. Unaware of the discourses of Palladio, Schinkel, the Manasara, Yingzao Fashi or modern innovators such as Geoffrey Bawa. The elementary particles of McMansions are the Decorated Sheds and Ducks of Las Vegas, not the classical tradition.

Every McMansion is a pitiful version of architecture that has been vernacularized by the global media culture and an N-th missed opportunity for a prosperity better used to advance our cultural discourse.

In the not-so-distant future, when all of humanity is burnt and buried, let’s hope future archaeologists will not have lost their sense of humor when they uncover the ruins of these McMansions.

“Late Pretentious Period”—an apt name for this geological layer. This was a world born out of media, consumed by media and reproduced by media.

Concrete Roman Pillars in a rural house replacing the Tiang Seri

The 'Aliff Syukri Palace' is four times the size of other oversized McMansions

s that surround it, echoing his flamboyant over-the-top social media personality.

Izat Arif (b. 1986) is an artist based in Kuala Lumpur whose works range from drawings and installations to videos and objects. In Izat’s work, power structures are given their own personal identities, with him cheekily role-playing characters of our puppet masters in property development, bureaucracy, and art criticism. His approach is often journalistic, where satire is fused with a responsive leaping between different subjects that speak to current revelations in popular media and culture.

In recent years, Izat’s concerns have broadened to include not only the actions and excesses of those involved in the production of power but equally to those who give weight to their claims. His predominant material focus on linoleum sheet—a cheap vinyl material for interior furnishing with prints that imitate more luxurious surfaces—challenges his viewer’s positions, aspirations or complicities in the perpetration of power; tapping into everyday material and topics as a way to engage more deeply with the spectrum of involvement.

Recent solo exhibitions by Izat include Gentle Reminders, Richard Koh Fine Art, Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia (2020); Kenangan itu, hanya mainan bagimu..., Mutual Aid Projects, Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia (2020) and Semangat Kejiranan, Everybody Loves Good Neighbours, The Vitrine, NTU CCA, Singapore (2018). Selected group exhibitions include Travel Agency, presented by A+ Works of Art, HeluTrans ArtSpace, Singapore (2022); Fragmenting Yesterday, Reshaping Tomorrow, ICAD, Jakarta (2022); and Domestic Bliss, Pollination, co-developed with The Factory Contemporary Arts Centre Vietnam, Ilham Gallery, Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia (2019). In 2022, Izat was a recipient of the ACME-Khazanah Artist Residency in London.

Karl Nadzarin is a freelance writer and project manager based in Kuala Lumpur. He is drawn to the interdisciplinary and has worked in the areas of law, international development, film, and cultural tradition.

Ihsan Hassan is a registered Architect in Malaysia, specializing in the modern practice of classical and traditional architecture rooted in Southeast Asia's diverse heritage. The practice is informed by a decade of study of traditional architecture from ancient texts, measurements of heritage structures, and participation in archaeological excavations. Trained as both an engineer and architect, Ihsan received his education from the University of Sheffield, UK, and Universiti Malaya, Malaysia.