Archive for October 2011
My friend Iskandar, the great potter
Long have I heard of this talented potter and dreamt of meeting him, but it was not till years later when our paths crossed on the Road to Tehran that I finally caught up with him, and discover the man behind the craft.
Act 1: early 1960s, the back room of 62 Monk’s Hill Terrace
As a trainee ‘O’ level teacher, I discovered Omar Khayyam and through his delightful quatrains was introduced, aside from the delights of the grapes, to the world of the potter and his pots of clay.
Whenever I felt bored in my little room in my father’s government quarters terrace house, I would snatch my little Rubaiyat companion and read my favourite verses from this irreverent Sufi poet.
Sober or high, the Rubaiyat never fail to delight and enlighten me of the foibles and frailties of the human pots of clay.
Some of my favourites included references to the divine potter and just to quote two:
Then said another –‘’Surely not in vain
My substance from the common Earth was taken
That He who subtly wrought me into Shape
Shall stamp me back to common Earth again.’’
Another said – ‘’Why ne’er a peevish Boy,
Would break the Bowl from within he drank in Joy;
Shall He that made the vessel in pure Love
And Fancy, in after Rage destroy?’’
Whenever I felt remorse then, I would think of the Rubaiyat and console myself, saying that ‘’in fashioning me the Potter’s hands did shake – feverishly’’.
Act 2: early spring 2008, in the land of the mullahs, ayatollahs and also the Rubaiyat
Although the potter lives practically a stone’s throw from my sister’s place in Kembangan where my father also lives and I know his younger brother, Rahim, we never met until I joined a 12 day tour of Iran organized by friends from the Bukit Timah campus days.
Aside from Iskandar and his lovely wife, Saleha, others in the small group included Jailani Rohani, Aminahton, Amin Sidek, Moksim Salleh, Aziz Hussein, Jamal, Ashfaq and Abdul Malek Ishak.
It was on the long dusty bus ride from Tehran to Kermanshah that I finally came face to face with the potter in the flesh – Iskandar Jalil, small-built, short, wiry and tanned, but warm and down-to-earth.
Early next morning I saw him standing by the bus, dressed in a thin cotton T-shirt, track pants, sneakers, while other were holding tight to their jackets, as the cold spring winds swirled around us.
‘’Doesn’t he feel the cold?’’ I casually asked Saleha. She replied: ‘’He is always like that, quite immune to the cold.’’ I told myself that this potter might have been an Eskimo in his previous life.
A few days later, while touring the ruins of Persepolis – once the capital of the mighty Persian Empire – I noticed the care that he took taking shots from his small but upmarket Sony digital camera, often giving instructions to Saleha on how to pose or how to take shots of him.
I asked him on his photography and he let me view images from his camera; I would see the touch of professionalism reflected in the tightness of the composition and the attention given to perspective. In Malay, you say: ‘’ada standard lah.’’ (high standard )
Next, I noticed he always had a tightly packed haversack on his back from which he often drew out a big, thick, black dairy-like notebook, to write. I was curious and on one occasion peeped over his shoulder; in big bold letters he was writing down the name of the place in addition to sketching the entrance. They took up almost the entire page.
I told myself these were signs of ‘’a big heart and a bold spirit.’’
On the second last day as the bus was taking us back to Tehran from Isfahan, except for the potter, the rest of us were slumped against our seat, a little weary and possibly a little home-sick.
Iskandar, born in 1940 and could be considered as our ‘’abang’’ (elder brother) were going round tirelessly from seat to seat with his big black note book.
Finally, he came to me and handing over his book, said: ‘’Ismail, can I have your name, address, e-mail and phone numbers.’’
He was the only one in our party who did it.
(Unfortunately, Omar’s home town of Nishapur was not on the itinerary. Anyway, our Iranian guide told me there was nothing to see – no monument, no tomb. The mullahs obviously frowned on his Rubaiyat with their plentiful references to taverns and wines and the timeless potter.)
Act 3: One evening about eight months later in 2008, at a renovated 3-storey terrace house in Jalan Kembangan
Toward the end of Iran tour, I told Saleha that I had heard much talk about their newly renovated home. The result was an open invitation for tea.
After much procrastination, I finally asked Jailani to arrange, and he too needed a little prodding, before he rang up and that was how he and I, and his wife, Aminahton, ended up being graciously treated to a tour of the house.
All I could remember is the minimalist-style, hardly any furniture except for basic wooden stuff and lots of artefacts from his travels and pots, big and small, in varying patterns, scattered all over.
When it was time to say good-bye, the potter took out two small bowls from the cupboard – one dark black, the other light tan – and placed them on the table before us. He then took one in each hand, raised it to eye level and then threw them on the floor with some force.
They landed with a loud thud, rolled a little and then remained still, intact. He picked them up and placed them on the table and asked us to examine the bowls.
We were stunned, speechless. Incredible, there was not even a whiff of a hairline crack. ‘’They are almost unbreakable – a matter of heating technique,’’ he said.
Added the potter: ‘’Take one each. Decide who wants what.’’
I gestured to Jailani and he slowly reached out for the light one. I was happy to take the dark one. So unexpected, so generous, and I felt a little overwhelmed.
Today, the bowl is prominently displayed in my study, perched securely on the topmost shelf above my writing table, flanked by an art book and a little bird house.
Act 4: 14 October 2011, Art-2 Gallery at the MICA building, the opening of the five-day solo exhibition and the launch of a limited edition book – iskandar jalil Images of My Pottery Travels.
About 300 odd pieces, the creme de la creme – of his prodigious output over the last five years are on display in the grand foyer. They come in varying shapes and sizes and colours – bowls, pots, plates, teapots, plates and an assortment of figurines, and their total value by my estimate come to at least S$ a million.
The guests start streaming in from 5.45 pm and by 6.30 pm when the proceedings began the entire place was jam-packed with fans, friends and admirers.
Dressed in a bright brown long-sleeved batik, the silver-haired Iskandar said that he held a solo exhibition every five years.
‘’This is my sixth solo in the last three decades and I think it is going to be my last.
‘’But I will not stop pottering. I will very soon start on another journey, another pilgrimage. My target is to work with up and coming artists from any media and hold joint shows in which I hope to pass my knowledge to them.
‘’I like to teach and I like to help. And any artist who like to join me for a show, please contact me,’’ he added.
Guest of Honour Professor Tommy Koh who is also Ambassador-At-Large then described Iskandar as a master potter and beloved guru.
‘’I am almost speechless. It’s a fabulous show, ‘’ he added and then went on to elaborate his qualities as a teacher and as a traveller, which fitted nicely with my observations.
‘’At 72, you are still young and still capable of producing great works. We look forward to another solo exhibition and if I am still around, I will be honoured to come and open it,’’ added Prof. Koh.
The exhibition will run from the 15th to the 20th of October.
Ismail Kassim
15 October 2011
In Gedungku, memories are made of this…
I just met a girl named Hidayah Amin, or Cik Idah in short, who possesses the three Ps – passionate, persistent and plucky or rather pushy, depending on one’s frame of mind – in great abundance.
With such drive, she has obviously been to places; National University of Singapore, Fulbright scholar at LeHigh University, an internship at the United Nations, and currently a graduate student in Cambridge University, to mention just a few.
Her professor at Cambridge mentioned me by name, and that was the start that led us to meet at Wardah Bookshop in Bussorah Street to exchange views and books.
I presented to her my No Hard Feelings memoir (2nd print 2009) and she, in turn, gave me her Gedung Kuning Memories of a Malay Childhood which was published last year.
Like me, she too felt compelled to tell her story. Unlike me, she managed to get others including the Singapore Heritage Society on board her personal project.
The result is a highly readable and well-produced book, with glossaries of Malay and Javanese words, maps and references that place her subject in the larger context of the culture and history of Singapore and Southeast Asia.
Her family saga began with the arrival of Haji Mohamed Noor Bin Haji Ali who relocated to Singapore from Solo, Java, in the late 19th century to set up a food business.
It was his son, Singapore-born Haji Yusoff who built the family’s fortune based on songkok (caps) and tali pinggang (belts) and became one of the pillars of the Malay-Muslim society, noted for both his business acumen and his philanthropic activities in and around Kampung Glam.
When Gedung Kuning was put on sale by the descendants of Sultan Hussein in 1912, her maternal great grandfather, Haji Yusoff, wasted no time in buying over this historic building, which is adjacent to the Istana Kampung Glam, for his two wives and their children.
Cik Idah is the fourth generation. She was born and grew up in Gedung Kuning, together with other descendants of Haji Yusoff until the government took it over under the Land Acquisition Act in 1999 to turn it into a Heritage Centre. It is now known as the Tepak sireh restaurant.
Despite protests, the government stood by its decision to compensate the family only $3.6 million for the 13,254 sq. feet stately mansion, which by today’s property prices, looks like daylight robbery.
Obviously, she was peeved at being turned out of her home. But her loss is our gain as it made her conscious of her heritage, and propelled her to want to share that legacy with readers in 28 simple, short stories on growing up in Gedung Kuning.
From such humble materials as a mango tree, nenek (grandmother), emak (mother) and ambin (raised platform), she manages to pull them together into a vivid account of how one girl looks at the life around her.
Through her eyes, we get a glimpse, not only of her family’s contribution, but also the Malay-Muslim way of life that revolves around Islamic festivals and rituals, customs, traditions, fears and prejudices.
At another level, hers is not an unfamiliar story. It is a recurring theme in Malay-Muslim society that the first one or two generation built the wealth, and the succeeding generations lived off the patrimony and squabbled over wills and legal suits and untrustworthy trustees.
In the case of this family, there is at least the hope that Cik Idah might be able to resuscitate, if not the family’s fortune, at least its good name.
The story of Cik Idah, the girl with the 3Ps, will hopefully inspire other Singaporean, especially Malay girls and also the boys, to rev up their drive and pursue their goals with greater focus and determination.
The downside, of course, is that you may be called names, and as she confessed to me on that hot afternoon in the bookshop, a top Malay PAP leader conferred on her another ‘P’ when he called her a pest. I assume it was said half out of exasperation and half in jest.
Given the scarcity of literature in English on the Singapore Malays, I consider her book a valuable addition.
I find particularly the many old photos from the family album reprinted in the book as a visual treat of a way of life long gone by; among them is one showing retired Minister Mentor Lee Kuan Yew, garlanded, and with a black Malay songkok precariously perched on his head, on a visit to Kampung Glam.
I hope that Gedung Kuning will inspire other Malays to pen their stories. You don’t need to be at the pinnacle of your career or be a household figure before you start writing. Like Cik Idah, everybody can also do it.
Some years ago a group of Malay graduates including myself got together to plan a memoir of a generation, with everyone contributing a piece. But it never got off ground as only one member responded.
I still hope that the project can be revived and I am still prepared to play my part to bring it to fruition.
Ismail Kassim
12 October 2011
P/S: Gedung Kuning is available at Wardah and selected bookshops. Wardah, which has a fine selection of books on Sufism, has also started to stock my NO Hard Feelings memoir.
The bookshop is owned by the family of the late Ahmad Ibrahim, Singapore’s first Attorney General and one of the sharpest legal minds. It is now managed by his grandson, Ibrahim.
