Out of the shadows
> A growing youth movement is helping to spearhead the fight to keep Cambodia’s dying cultural art forms alive
MOST of the world knows of Cambodia’s dark history through 1984’s The Killing Fields, and Angelina Jolie’s recent First They Killed My Father, but the nation’s arts still remain unknown outside the country.
That’s set to change, however, if Lomorpich Rithy has anything to do with it.
Lomorpich recalls: “When I was 10 years old, I saw a film about the Killing Fields. I said: ‘OK, that’s a CambodianHollywood film’. But 15 years later, it’s still all about the Khmer Rouge.
“Khmer Rouge and Angkor Wat are the only two things that outside people know about us. What about my generation?”
Now, along with sister Lomorkesor and two other friends, Lomorpich is the driving force behind the annual Bonn Phum festival, which takes place in a different village each year.
A free three-day celebration of traditional performing arts, games and food, it grew out of Lomorpich’s friendship with one of Cambodia’s best-known artistes, Mann Kosal, who runs Sovanna Phum Arts Association in Phnom Penh.
Kosal established Sovanna Phum, the first independent art association in Cambodia, in 1994. At his small theatre in Phnom Penh, he directs actors and musicians in weekly shows combining music, dance, and Sbek Thom.
Sbek Thom is the sacred art of vast-scale shadow puppetry that dates back to pre-Angkor Wat times, used for tales based on ancient Sanskrit epic the Ramayana. Unesco declared it an ‘intangible cultural heritage’ in 2005.
In 2012, when a Japanese exchange programme required her to research her cultural heritage, Lomorpich went along to a performance.
“I remember the darkness and the sound of the drum. Master Kosal started to sing. It was the key to my soul.”
Afterwards, the two sisters began volunteering at the theatre. Over the years, Lomorpich’s post-show talks with Kosal gave rise to the idea of Bonn Phum.
“We talked about a setting for people to sit down and see performances in a traditional environment,” said Lomorpich.
The first festival in 2014 was such a success, the team decided to make it a yearly event.
However, unbeknown to Lomorpich, her mentor was growing increasingly desperate.
Last year, after 20 years running the theatre, Kosal almost quit to become a tuk-tuk driver.
Without government or NGO funding, income from ticket sales couldn’t keep up with rent hikes and expenditure.
What’s more, after years of handcarving the two-metre-high puppets from cowhide, Kosal suffered from chronic back pain.
To pay his hospital bills, he sold his car, then some of his puppets. Finally, he went to the papers and announced his intended change of career.
Lomorpich was in Thailand when her sister called with the news.
“I felt like … oh my God, without Sovanna Phum, shadow puppet theatre is going to die,” she tells The Independent.
“I knew it couldn’t end like this. I know Master Kosal, and how much he loves the place. I tried to call him but he didn’t answer the phone. He wanted to disappear. It was too much for him to handle alone.”
So she took on his fight. Determined not to let Sovanna Phum close, Lomorpich and the team behind Bonn Phum launched a Kickstarter campaign, organised puppetcarving workshops, and garnered support from Cambodian franchise Brown Coffee.
“It was the first time we saw the culture of sharing money in Cambodia for art,” she says.
“We are a country with a lot of culture and art history, but we don’t really value it.”
Though he plays a vital part in conserving Sbek Thom, Kosal says that he’s no purist.
He welcomes collaboration, for starters, saying, “all types of artists should learn from each other”.
He also breaks with tradition by including female performers. It’s “not about gender”, he says.
Instead, his bid to work with women is “questioning why we need to class this and that. There are many classes even within art forms in Cambodia. It’s such a reflection of our society”.
Lomorpich is now in the planning stages for the fifth Bonn Phum festival due to take place at a location yet to be announced in April.
She is still passionate about modern Cambodia’s duty to critique itself through art.
“We only ever look 1,000 years back and say: ‘We are the sons and daughters of Angkor Wat’,” she says. “But how about now? Who are we now?”
The festival, she hopes, will answer that question. – The Independent