Cambodian sculptor Sepolen, 28, is the art director for a local sculpting shop that churns out statues of Buddha and other religious symbols. HIs work is sold mostly to wealthy Cambodians who gain some prestige by commissioning giant Buddha figures and donate them to city pagodas and shrines.
Art store owner and artist Pan Lo exercises some creative expression in a work that will also generate income: a commissioned painting based on a personal photograph of a Cambodian man.
Cambodian art is inundated with images of its icons, like Angkor Wat, because iconis subjects sell to tourists. Cambodian artist Leng Seckon has found a financially rewarding alternatice in creating cross-medium works that blend Cambodia's icons with the remnants of the country tortured past.While most Cambodian artists feel compelled by the market to reflect their culture in saleable ways, one is bucking the trend and being rewarded for it.
By Kevin Sites,
http://hotzone.yahoo.com
Thu Jul 20, 2006
PHNOM PENH, Cambodia - To make a living as a fine artist in Cambodia the choices of subject matter are clear: the temples of Angkor Wat or Buddha.
These are what artists must paint, draw or sculpt because that's what people with disposable incomes, mainly tourists, will buy.
Since Angkor Wat and Buddha are such important parts of Cambodia's cultural experience, their renderings are certainly worthwhile endeavors. Unfortunately, some feel, the market demand has stifled artists' willingness to explore creative avenues beyond this familiar territory.
Shops and galleries through the capital of Phnom Penh are stacked floor to ceiling with depictions of Cambodia's most famous heritage site, the mystical stone temples of Angkor Wat at sunset. Likewise, the many faces and hands of Buddha can be seen emanating a sense of calm, patience or reassurance.
Sepolen, 28, is the art director for a local sculpting shop that churns out statues of Buddha and other religious symbols. His work is sold mostly to wealthy Cambodians who gain some prestige by commissioning giant Buddha figures and donating them to city pagodas or shrines.
"I design the piece," says Sepolen, "then a number of sculptors will carve the figures using mostly hammer and chisel."
He says the larger pieces can take up to a month with three sculptors and cost as much as $1,000. They will also do commissions, but again, usually based on existing subjects rather than original work, like a copy of the Cambodia-Vietnam Friendship Monument in central Phnom Penh, requested by a government figure.
Just down the street the story is the same. In shops filled with Angkor Wat paintings, the owner, an artist named Pan Lo, exercises what little creative expression he can in a work that will still generate income, a commissioned painting based on a personal photograph of a Cambodian man.
Pan Lo says he doesn't try to just duplicate the photograph, but instead looks at it a few times then puts it away and paints from his memory. This, he says, allows him to ininject his own artistry into the work.
"All the pictures are like this," he says, not pausing in his work, "because people will buy these. If we painted pictures of what happened during the Khmer Rouge, no one would want to buy it. No one wants to think about that anymore."
Pan Lo says he's only painted two original works that did not have direct commercial value and those were while he was still in art school.
Nearby, his 24-year-old apprentice, Chanta, who is still in art school, works on his own painting, a commission to duplicate a photograph of an elderly Cambodian couple. Unlike Pan Lo, Chanta paints the photo as he sees it from its position on his easel.
Pan Lo dismisses criticism that somehow Cambodian artists are missing the opportunity to reflect other aspects of their history and culture in more creative ways.
"We are celebrating the culture," he says of paintings of the temples and Buddha. "By doing this work we are helping to keep the culture alive for the young people."
While that may be true, it is rare to find a Cambodian artist willing to divert their work from prevailing market pressures. One such artist who has taken that risk is Leng Seckon, 28, and so far he's been rewarded for it both critically and financially.
However, his approach has been a tactically sound one: to infuse the icons of the culture with contemporary but relevant twists. Additionally, Seckon hasn't felt the need to obey the constraints of single mediums, boldly blending paints with collages of text or currency. Or, inspired by his dressmaker mother, he might even sew patterns of fabric directly onto canvasses.
One of the most interesting examples of Seckon's style is the figure of an ancient Khmer sentry taken from the carvings of the Angkor Wat temples. But in the painting, the temples are crumbling behind him and the sentry has a prosthetic leg, a symbolic nod to Cambodia's strife-torn past which has left the nation littered with thousands of land mines.
"I'm an artist," says Seckon. "I don't want to make copies."
He says he wants his works to stay within traditional Khmer style but also to be modern. For instance, Seckon has created a series of "Yoa," squares of material that hang in most Cambodian homes as a way to ward off evil spirits. One of the most common themes is the hand of Buddha, palm facing out as a blessing of peace and courage.
But Seckon adds to this mosquito netting and material from monks' robes, as a way, he says, to suggest the concept of safety the blessing imparts.
Seckon spent a long time honing his skills with 10 years of study across a range of disciplines, from interior design to oil painting, at the Phnom Penh University of Fine Arts.
That time seems to have been well spent, both in developing his mastery of skills and in imbuing his work with a rich, almost literary and philosophical complexity.
For example, in one series of works, the artist explores the nature of the Chinese Yin-Yang symbol that represents the concepts of mutually dependent male and female principles within all beings. In one of Seckon's pieces this is illustrated by a phallus covered with Khmer symbols penetrating a sunflower, symbolizing both human conception and aspirations.
His work, especially in this series, is almost dizzying with its overlapping textures and intricate meanings that seem to reveal themselves gradually, layer by layer, but without delaying the immediate appreciation of their overall aesthetic.
While Seckon is capable of such complexities, it is sometimes simple patterns that inspire him, that still seem to capture the essence of Cambodia's history, both past and present.
Seckon once painted an image of the actress Angelina Jolie, holding her adopted Cambodian son Maddox. Seckon says that the actress' lips and eyelids recalled the stone faces carved on the Bayon Temple at Angkor Wat.
Seckon says collaboration with some foreign artists living in Cambodia has helped to expand his creative portfolio such as the use of collage.
And perhaps because of this artistic courage, combined with his abilities and unique vision, Seckon has been able to establish his own gallery as well as exhibit his works internationally, including in the U.S. He also markets his work at a much higher price than his Cambodian contemporaries, selling pieces that easily top the thousand-dollar mark, mostly to foreign collectors, while many other artists bargain with tourists for $30-$50.
Seckon embraces the conflict of traditional and contemporary but wants to see talented Cambodian artists express their originality rather than be confined to duplication.
"When the arts are lost, the nation collapses," Seckon said in a recent Cambodian magazine interview. "Art is the binding element which gives people a way out of the rigid everyday lifestyle. Without a means for art there would be no song, no movies, no stories and no dance. Without these things we may as well be dead."
Seckon says his next series will be made from rubbish and litter to call attention to Cambodia's growing problem with environmental waste.
Seckon has no Web site but can be contacted by email for more information: lengseckon@hotmail.com
By Kevin Sites,
http://hotzone.yahoo.com
Thu Jul 20, 2006
PHNOM PENH, Cambodia - To make a living as a fine artist in Cambodia the choices of subject matter are clear: the temples of Angkor Wat or Buddha.
These are what artists must paint, draw or sculpt because that's what people with disposable incomes, mainly tourists, will buy.
Since Angkor Wat and Buddha are such important parts of Cambodia's cultural experience, their renderings are certainly worthwhile endeavors. Unfortunately, some feel, the market demand has stifled artists' willingness to explore creative avenues beyond this familiar territory.
Shops and galleries through the capital of Phnom Penh are stacked floor to ceiling with depictions of Cambodia's most famous heritage site, the mystical stone temples of Angkor Wat at sunset. Likewise, the many faces and hands of Buddha can be seen emanating a sense of calm, patience or reassurance.
Sepolen, 28, is the art director for a local sculpting shop that churns out statues of Buddha and other religious symbols. His work is sold mostly to wealthy Cambodians who gain some prestige by commissioning giant Buddha figures and donating them to city pagodas or shrines.
"I design the piece," says Sepolen, "then a number of sculptors will carve the figures using mostly hammer and chisel."
He says the larger pieces can take up to a month with three sculptors and cost as much as $1,000. They will also do commissions, but again, usually based on existing subjects rather than original work, like a copy of the Cambodia-Vietnam Friendship Monument in central Phnom Penh, requested by a government figure.
Just down the street the story is the same. In shops filled with Angkor Wat paintings, the owner, an artist named Pan Lo, exercises what little creative expression he can in a work that will still generate income, a commissioned painting based on a personal photograph of a Cambodian man.
Pan Lo says he doesn't try to just duplicate the photograph, but instead looks at it a few times then puts it away and paints from his memory. This, he says, allows him to ininject his own artistry into the work.
"All the pictures are like this," he says, not pausing in his work, "because people will buy these. If we painted pictures of what happened during the Khmer Rouge, no one would want to buy it. No one wants to think about that anymore."
Pan Lo says he's only painted two original works that did not have direct commercial value and those were while he was still in art school.
Nearby, his 24-year-old apprentice, Chanta, who is still in art school, works on his own painting, a commission to duplicate a photograph of an elderly Cambodian couple. Unlike Pan Lo, Chanta paints the photo as he sees it from its position on his easel.
Pan Lo dismisses criticism that somehow Cambodian artists are missing the opportunity to reflect other aspects of their history and culture in more creative ways.
"We are celebrating the culture," he says of paintings of the temples and Buddha. "By doing this work we are helping to keep the culture alive for the young people."
While that may be true, it is rare to find a Cambodian artist willing to divert their work from prevailing market pressures. One such artist who has taken that risk is Leng Seckon, 28, and so far he's been rewarded for it both critically and financially.
However, his approach has been a tactically sound one: to infuse the icons of the culture with contemporary but relevant twists. Additionally, Seckon hasn't felt the need to obey the constraints of single mediums, boldly blending paints with collages of text or currency. Or, inspired by his dressmaker mother, he might even sew patterns of fabric directly onto canvasses.
One of the most interesting examples of Seckon's style is the figure of an ancient Khmer sentry taken from the carvings of the Angkor Wat temples. But in the painting, the temples are crumbling behind him and the sentry has a prosthetic leg, a symbolic nod to Cambodia's strife-torn past which has left the nation littered with thousands of land mines.
"I'm an artist," says Seckon. "I don't want to make copies."
He says he wants his works to stay within traditional Khmer style but also to be modern. For instance, Seckon has created a series of "Yoa," squares of material that hang in most Cambodian homes as a way to ward off evil spirits. One of the most common themes is the hand of Buddha, palm facing out as a blessing of peace and courage.
But Seckon adds to this mosquito netting and material from monks' robes, as a way, he says, to suggest the concept of safety the blessing imparts.
Seckon spent a long time honing his skills with 10 years of study across a range of disciplines, from interior design to oil painting, at the Phnom Penh University of Fine Arts.
That time seems to have been well spent, both in developing his mastery of skills and in imbuing his work with a rich, almost literary and philosophical complexity.
For example, in one series of works, the artist explores the nature of the Chinese Yin-Yang symbol that represents the concepts of mutually dependent male and female principles within all beings. In one of Seckon's pieces this is illustrated by a phallus covered with Khmer symbols penetrating a sunflower, symbolizing both human conception and aspirations.
His work, especially in this series, is almost dizzying with its overlapping textures and intricate meanings that seem to reveal themselves gradually, layer by layer, but without delaying the immediate appreciation of their overall aesthetic.
While Seckon is capable of such complexities, it is sometimes simple patterns that inspire him, that still seem to capture the essence of Cambodia's history, both past and present.
Seckon once painted an image of the actress Angelina Jolie, holding her adopted Cambodian son Maddox. Seckon says that the actress' lips and eyelids recalled the stone faces carved on the Bayon Temple at Angkor Wat.
Seckon says collaboration with some foreign artists living in Cambodia has helped to expand his creative portfolio such as the use of collage.
And perhaps because of this artistic courage, combined with his abilities and unique vision, Seckon has been able to establish his own gallery as well as exhibit his works internationally, including in the U.S. He also markets his work at a much higher price than his Cambodian contemporaries, selling pieces that easily top the thousand-dollar mark, mostly to foreign collectors, while many other artists bargain with tourists for $30-$50.
Seckon embraces the conflict of traditional and contemporary but wants to see talented Cambodian artists express their originality rather than be confined to duplication.
"When the arts are lost, the nation collapses," Seckon said in a recent Cambodian magazine interview. "Art is the binding element which gives people a way out of the rigid everyday lifestyle. Without a means for art there would be no song, no movies, no stories and no dance. Without these things we may as well be dead."
Seckon says his next series will be made from rubbish and litter to call attention to Cambodia's growing problem with environmental waste.
Seckon has no Web site but can be contacted by email for more information: lengseckon@hotmail.com
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