Vann Nath!

I mentioned Cambodian artist Vann Nath (b. 1946) a couple of posts back and suggested he deserved his own post here. The man's amazing story - timely in its implications - is encapsulated thusly at his own site, vannnath.com:

Vann Nath, 63, born in Battambang, Cambodia, is one of seven survivors -- and three still alive today -- of the Khmer Rouge's secret prison known as S-21, where 14,000 men, women and children were interrogated, tortured and executed during the 1975-79 Pol Pot regime in Cambodia. He is one of Cambodia's most prominent artists, and it was this skill that kept him alive at S-21. His life was spared by his jailors so that he could be put to work painting and sculpting portraits of Pol Pot.

In 1979, Vann Nath escaped from S-21 as the Pol Pot regime collapsed under a Vietnamese invasion of Cambodia. When the former secret prison was converted to a genocide museum, Vann Nath returned to work there for several years. The craft which saved his life would allow Vann Nath to show the world some of the brutal crimes of the Khmer Rouge. His paintings depicting scenes he witnessed in S-21 hang in the museum today, one of the few public reminders of the regime's brutality.

Nath has since produced a book and assisted with a film on S-21; an excerpt of the later in which Nath confronts former guards and staff is available here.


From "The Killing Fields", a NY Times piece by Sara Colm and Vann Nath, wherein he describes the beginnings of his prison artistry:

...I started to make my first painting -- a large portrait of Pol Pot, 3 meters by 1 1/2 meters. They had me paint in black and white, based on a black-and-white photograph. I told them I had not specialized in black-and-white painting, but they told me to experiment. I tried for five days, but the picture I painted did not come out the same as the photograph. I was worried because they weren't very happy with it. I asked if I could paint in color, natural colors. They agreed and assigned some people to find watercolors. I started to paint a color picture and completed the first one in five days. They were satisfied because they had never had color portraits of Pol Pot like that. I ended up painting eight or nine portraits of Pol Pot, taking about a week to make each painting. In the original photograph I was working from, Pol Pot's face looked smooth and calm. But the feeling in my heart was that he was very savage and evil. I wondered how he could look so pleasant yet treat people so cruelly.

And, from the same piece, on returning to the prison:

I brought my wife to Phnom Penh, where the government had asked me and several other survivors to work in the Museum of Genocide, which had been created on the grounds of the prison. At first it was very hard for me to return to Tuol Sleng. Sometimes I would forget it was a museum, and I felt like I was still an inmate. But after a while it began to feel normal to go everyday. I worked of my free will as a painter there, preparing scenes of life in Tuol Sleng to show Cambodians and visitors from other countries what had happened. From time to time some Cambodian politicians think about closing the museum. But in my opinion it should stay open. More than 10,000 people were killed in that prison. If Tuol Sleng is abandoned or converted to another use, it will mean that the people who died there were sacrificed, that their lives were useless. I want to keep the memory alive so the new generation of Cambodians can understand what happened during that time.

Nath's actual paintings are surprisingly elusive online - and in real life (unless you're in Cambodia).

The S-21 paintings themselves are housed behind glass in the S-21 (Tuol Sleng) Museum and subsequently many of the photographs you'll find of these works online feature glass reflections, flashbulbs, or odd angles. It's rather a shame the museum couldn't themselves release approved prints - even Nath's own site does not feature reproductions of his S-21 paintings.

There are Nath galleries available online here and here, and a very fine series on Nath's art is available here thanks to Andy Brouwer (see also 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 and 11). Finally, an all too brief interview with the man himself.

Aside from the permanent display of his S-21 (Tuol Sleng) paintings at, "the infamous Khmer Rouge detention center in Phnom Penh", Vann Nath's work is also collected at his own gallery, part of the exhibition space at his Kith Eng restaurant (also in Phnom Penh).

From a piece on this gallery by Lyria Eastley:

Ten of Vann Nath's paintings tell the story of his capture, time at Tuol Sleng, and escape from execution. They are arranged around the gallery in chronological order. On the wall opposite the entrance is a photograph taken of Vann Nath upon his entry into Tuol Sleng, emphasising the reality of his experiences...

"It's important to keep all the paintings together as a series," said (Sara Colm, Human Rights Watch), "and the permanent display of these pictures reflects Vann Nath's devotion to history and memory."

The gallery will be a permanent installation at the Kith Eng Restaurant at 33B Street 169. It is open from 6 to 9pm and can only be viewed upon request.

"Anyone who has an interest in knowing about my experiences in the Pol Pot era can come and see," said Vann Nath.

Forgive me, but I can't help wondering: do you look at the paintings before eating or afterwards?


From December 1999's Principal, Khalid Ali Taha:

Vann Nath claims he will never again paint the type of paintings he did about S-21. Public reaction to his new artistic direction doesn't concern him. Vann Nath says that he'll do what makes him happy and doesn't think about what the public wants or thinks of him. He also says that he doesn't care how people remember his work or himself. "I want people to look at the Tuol Sleng paintings and see them as important historically. They documented a time in the history of our nation. If I'm remembered just for those paintings then so be it," said Nath.

I reproduce several 'Tuol Sleng' Vann Nath works below from various of the linked sites. As one would expect given the context, the content is quite graphic.

China Vs. The Green Slime!

Perhaps the single most impressive thing about this year's Olympics was the massive effort put forward to fight a particularly beautiful bright green algae bloom on the shores of Qingdao, a city site for event sailing competition. Press reports detail a million tons of the stuff, covering one-third of the surface area, was removed after a month's work by a team of upwards of 2000 boats, and some 30,000 students, volunteers and soldiers.

King Knut himself might have been impressed, I daresay.

Other tactics to wipe out the slime included simultaneous construction of two 20,000 metre 'goo gate' barriers, preventing algae from floating into the sailing venue proper, as well as regular ship patrols to monitor for future algal concerns. The green stuff is reportedly being shipped to farms for pigs and other animals to munch on, although I've also seen photos of it being left to rot in huge piles so I dunno. Don't they know that's cash in the bank?

Special props for this post must go out to the Guardian (who had the best seaweed porn gallery on the interwebs) and the AP photographers who shot all this messy majesty in the first place. Some video reports here and here.

And speaking of props, how cool is this? Not very at all from an ecological point of view I understand, but as knickknacks go, it's pretty nifty I'd say.

Art Therapy Atrocity!

Nowhere is the intersection of creative expression and psychological trauma more obvious and striking than in art therapy - the creation of artistic works designed to exorcise horrors, express the inexpressible, and, ideally, bring some equilibrium into the artist's life. Running through art therapy is the idea that art is de facto positive; as the AATA puts it: the creative process of art is both healing and life-enhancing.


I confess I originally imagined such therapy would benefit mostly children, who after all may not be able to communicate clearly yet, but this assumption ignores many of art therapy's qualities which can be beneficial to anyone, young or old, and whatever their physical or mental condition:

- art can be fun and relaxing, a creative play time
- the concentration inherent in creating art may provide a distraction from regular thoughts
- solitude and silence if desired (equally, one can create art in groups or even as a group)
- art can be very cathartic and provide insight and release
- creating something is gratifying and empowering. If other people enjoy this art, that effect is only multiplied

Perhaps most interesting of all is the idea that people express things in their artwork that they themselves are neither intending to convey nor even conscious of; that expression is the stuff of the subconscious.


Art therapy was arguably born of war (the artwork of children during the Spanish Civil War is the earliest example I've come across) and has proved enormously beneficial to those involved in wars and, more recently, genocides: casualties, soldiers, prisoners, even if the artwork is not the artist's idea - as in the fascinating case of Cambodian prisoner/artist Vann Nath (who really deserves his own post here).

WWII vets are famously reticent to speak of their bloodier experiences; an entire generation whose preference seemed to be to keep silent, perhaps with some assistance. One wonders how different things might have been were art therapy widely available back then. Is it helping soldiers today, coming home from Afghanistan or Iraq?


If art therapy works wonders for those undergoing the hell of warfare - in hotspots as varied as Uganda, Columbia, Bosnia, Rwanda, Lebanon, Sudan, and Chechnya - it provides help for all manner of other hells as well: anorexia, child abuse, rape, you name it. The last decade has seen an explosion of art therapy for those who have survived terrorist attack or 'natural evils' such as tsunamis and hurricanes.



The phenomenon also seems to have caused a stir in Darfur, posing the question of whether such artworks can constitute evidence of war crimes.


The questions posed by such depictions of life's horror are many - in part because, though the effect of creating such a work may be utterly beneficial and positive to the artist, the resultant artwork nonetheless carries the subject of its genesis. Can the viewer enjoy or appreciate such therapeutic works with a clean conscience? What is the moral status of such art? Does its backstory inevitably alter its appreciation? How does the role of artist differ for works of art therapy? How does the relationship differ with patrons or with the public?


Have you ever created art in this spirit and was it therapeutic for you? How would you feel about that work being displayed in a gallery or on a website? What if that art were on someone's wall, in their office or home?

Most of us are lucky in the present day. We expect our children will never paint such pictures.

Update: Vank Cathedral Armenian Genocide Memorial Kids Pics (see comments for details)

Come out to Oshawa for The Last Shwaltz!

September 13th. Free. Beautiful Downtown Oshawa.

Details are here.

No No Zero Reviews, News & Rejected Demos!

For anyone knee-knocked for new No No Zero content, I present the following newish reviews of our record, along with our official page for garage database supreme Grunnen Rocks - a proud moment on the internet for any band deemed so worthy. In there before five digits!

The Bad News: As you may have noticed, our official band website www.nonozero.com has been down for many months now. Why is this? To be honest, I impregnated our webmistress and she has borne my seed, and is now too busy breastfeeding to update our site.

So if you think you might be up to the task of occasional updates (I think I'll still do most of the small update stuff here), picture dumps, and maybe even a redesign, let me know. The only problem is you'd have to be willing to do this for free. I can't even impregnate you.

The Good News: I'm not promising anything here but it looks like we may be recording again shortly. Fingers crossed. In the meantime, I submit for your acumen some demos I recorded at home over the last couple of years for the band that they've graciously rejected.

In other words, these are songs you probably won't be hearing again (and maybe that's for the best?).

May not be suitable for your workplace. You've been warned.

Gimmie The Nasty
Shut Out The Outside World
Double Twat
Faux Snuff

Porno Theatre!

I recently met up with Starkweather Fix skin-pounder Jay Matuschka, not to record, but to go check out a porno theatre. He's been to Show World in NYC, the lucky bastard, but had never been to Toronto's own Metro Theatre, at 677 Bloor Street West, just a few blocks west of Bathurst. I had been to the Metro a few times before, so I was able to act as our guide for the journey.

The Metro is a grand old movie house, or at least it was in better days; operating for decades now as a porno palace, it first opened very respectfully in 1938. Built in the art deco style, it is presently divided into two movie houses, the Metro and the Riviera, the later interior of which is by far the nicer. It's been for sale for years and so could vanish at any time I suppose, but for now it's the last proper Canadian porno theatre east of the Fox in Vancouver.

The theatre has been used in recent decades to show Indian films, exploitation films, martial arts films, horror films - basically anything with an audience willing to make their way to Koreatown to see it. It's served as concert hall and movie location (1985 Can-Con atrocity The Porn Murders aka Blue Murder). It was the site of the first Kung Fu Fridays, and even Quentin Tarantino has been there (to see Master Killer, no less). Primarily though, the Metro has shown porno movies, from Golden Age reels to today's digital disc and video tapes.


Incidentally, when I first went to the Metro, along with a group of inebriated friends, they were still showing actual films, and I was tickled to see there was no regard whatsoever given to making connections between reels; images would cut from a hardcore orgy to a conversation in some other film entirely, only to switch again a short time later to some third unrelated segment of the first film. When it came time for the theatre to close (11pm), the staff simply closed the curtain while the scene being played continued.

As Jay and I made our way to the Metro, I noted something I'd figured out from going there before; namely, that despite the strictly hetero action on the big screen, there tends to be a great deal of same-sex action everywhere else in the building (theatre seats, bathroom, etc.). If you were to actually produce your penis in the place, one senses, you'd suddenly be very popular indeed.

So yeah, lots of cruising, we're all on the same page. If you just wanna watch the movie, aisle seats are best and, assuming you don't want to be cruised, eye contact should probably be kept to a minimum. Some guys in there will rotate around the theatre, switching their seat every few minutes, eye-balling whoever their new company happens to be; if you just watch the movie and keep it in your pants, you're left alone in my experience.


Upon entering the theatre this evening, we paid $9 and were told our ticket was good for either the Metro proper or the Riviera. Like all good bad-doers, we chose the left-hand path, and that takes one to the Metro in this case - a tall, squat room that is largely dull and grey at this point. Ladders and various crap lay strewn about the stage in front of the screen - a stage which once featured live dancers between films, no less. Open the front door of the Metro and you can still see the signed 8x10s of visiting porno greats, including the ubiquitous Ron Jeremy.

The last time I'd visited the Metro was around lunchtime on a hot late-summer day last year. I was particularly 'sun-struck' that afternoon shall we say, and suddenly emerging into the cool AC of the pitch-black theatre was, for me, truly weird. Out of that big darkness and flickering porn, there slowly emerged the fact of some two dozen men standing against the wall behind the back row of seats, all more or less looking over at me.

As I did then, I did again, shuffling down the aisle, sitting about two-thirds of the way down towards the screen just like I would at any other movie, and again on the left-hand side. The room was pretty barren tonight; maybe a dozen people spread thinly throughout the seats - those distinctive Metro seats which are such a key part of the experience of going, lush beyond imagining, falling back much further than any other similar chair I've ever sat in, with a nice loud creak.


Time and space are manipulated in all movie houses of course, but something about the Metro makes the sense of time here even stranger and more elongated; perhaps it is the fact that one is paying not to see any one film or films, but simply to be let into the theatre, which is always playing a film and takes no breaks whatsoever (and there are no in and out privileges). Much like some theatres in the States then, you can pay to stay for the day, munching on candy counter treats and popcorn, drinking pop and enjoying the cool dark along with whoever else is there.

You relax. The action onscreen comes in fits of course, like sex itself. Sometimes there is a palpable sense of rising tension in the room as a scene comes to conclusion, a mass throb and bob; people usually leave after a scene ends, and rarely in the middle of one. The fan buzzes and burrs, the EXIT sign flashes red and green and blue, and I spend far too long trying to imagine what possible code this communicates to patrons cleverer than I.

The porno theatre - the real deal, not a small cube in the back of an adult bookstore where you whack it to a small screen - operates as a magical place and you are paying to experience something here that is now fairly rare, at least in this part of the world - a mass viewing of sex, the act of human sex. Sometimes there are women there in the audience but mostly it is men and they are all sitting quietly in a big dark room watching a big screen where people dedicate themselves to getting each other off sexually, preferably in particularly degrading or kinky ways. I think that's pretty amazing, really.


In retrospect, the sex was always pretty strong stuff at the Metro. You can perhaps understand why: most of the people coming here are coming here habitually at this point and they, like pervert connoisseurs, seek out the stronger and more extreme XXX after time enough spent with the status quo*. The first time I was here, as a money shot became imminent onscreen, an older man yelled out - "Shoot the bitch! Shoot the bitch!"

The film playing tonight, just starting I believe when we came in, was something featuring not only now 'standard fare' like DPs and ATM but implied piss and scat, and even a few shots of a cigarette being put out post-coitus on a guy's (obviously phony) dick. There was also a person present in every scene, not involved with the sex but filming it, thereby adding a certain meta-quality to the proceedings. I didn't know anybody onscreen's name but Jay informed me that Randy Spears himself was the 'that guy' I'd seen in so many bad 80s pornos before.

After awhile, I suggested we check out the Riviera. It turned out that the Riviera had closed at 10 and it was now almost 11, closing time. So, rather than return to our seats, we spent some time chatting with the guy working there, who was very pleasant and easy-going. He confirmed to me that the Metro's basement was indeed filled with awesome treasures of bygone days but left it at that, and suggested I call the owner if I wanted more information.


Ha! I barely had the $9 to get in. But a man can dream, can't he.

My advice is to check it out while you still can. Sink into the seat. Contemplate the anal, the blow job, the reverse cowboy. It's a flash in the pan from Deep Throat to the VCR (not to mention the internet), and this theatre's days are most definitely numbered. Until punk rockers start screwing onstage or something (and won't the rest of us seem square when that happens?), where are you going to go to be with other people and see people have sex with people?

* not to get into an argument here about how people might gravitate towards 'the hard porn', that's a whole other topic in itself.