When did you get the idea of hitchhiking around the world?
Even when I was a little kid of 8 or 9 years I’d be looking at maps and telling my parents it was my dream to see the world some day. Of course, nobody believed me, until I was 17 and started hitchhiking around Europe.

How do you find the people giving you rides?
I usually approach people in gas stations, tell them what I’m doing and ask them for a ride. That way I get to pick the people, which reduces the risk of running into unpleasant situations. I’ve had people hiding coke in their trunk or rushing along at 240km/hour, so you want to double-check whose car you’re getting into.

What was your (least) favorite country so far?
That’s hard to say, because I’ve experienced so many extraordinary things. But if I had to pick a favorite country I think it would be Brazil or Peru. In the USA my transportation system worked the worst—people were afraid to pick me up, or they were just caught up in selfishness: “I have to go now, and I don’t care whether this guy is still standing there tomorrow.” That was kind of sobering.

Was there ever a point when you wanted to give up?
No. Although I’ve encountered some pretty dangerous situations: In Colombia I had to cross guerilla-infested “red zones,” and in Africa I had to go to jail for a night because I had entered a port without proper authorization.

What do you think is the biggest sacrifice you’re making?
Actually, I don’t really feel like I’m sacrificing anything. But of course I miss my family and friends, but that was a choice I made consciously, and I chose adventure over convenience.

One last question: Why?
I find my trip very rewarding: I get to exercise myself in patience (after all, I still have to be friendly after 100 people have refused me a ride), tolerance, diplomacy and resourcefulness, I get a much more positive outlook on life, and I’ve learned to adapt to virtually any situation. These are experiences no one can ever take from me.

Fans of Blythe dolls will not want to give this exhibition a miss. Rather than just buying another $500-900 limited edition doll, why don’t fans just splurge their hard-earned moolah into one of Elaine Roberto-Navas’ paintings of the dolls instead? After all, these artworks are all one-offs, and Roberto-Navas depicts these dolls in a certain likeness never experienced before. Painting them in thick, bold strokes using antipasto, these works engage viewers in a somewhat unsettling way, as we are drawn to its dark, psychological undertones. Roberto-Navas shed some light on her works in this exclusive interview.

Why Blythe, and not other dolls like Barbie?
I chose to paint Blythe because she looks the most human of all dolls.  Her eyes have a lot of soul.  There’s also a certain vulnerability in her aura. Other dolls, like Barbie or Bratz dolls, have a particular plastered expression on their faces. They don’t transcend their plasticity.  I don’t see as much soul in them as I see in Blythe. 

What dark underlying themes are you trying to reflect through the dolls?
I think the intrigue for me is having to paint serious portraits of these dolls, trying my best to render them as realistically as possible, as if they were portraits of actual people. It’s a paradox that even though it looks lifelike, it’s not. Secondly, it’s the theme of everyday objects (in this case, the dolls) that can become art. Because of the labor and attention invested in these objects, it becomes a social thing and assumes a transcendental nature far greater than its mere use-value. Thirdly, it’s the concept of the “uncanny” I am intrigued with. I had mixed feelings when I first saw the book on Blythe with all her photographs.  I felt it was attractively eerie. What is “uncanny” is frightening to most people precisely because it is not known and familiar. When a thing/object is placed in an unexpected context, to the audience it could mean many things, depending on his/her own circumstances.

Why antipasto?
I like seeing the sensual way the colors blend in to each other to form something understandable, or otherwise. 

Are you obsessed with Blythe?
I only paint things that I obsessively like.

You’ve acted in many movies and you’ve directed and written quite a few. Which do you prefer—working in front of or behind the camera?
I like acting, but it’s more of a passion to direct.

What made you want to start directing?
I think the question should be “What made me start acting?” Both my parents are actors and my father is a script writer, but my first desires were drawing and writing and, of course, directing is good for that!

More than most other kinds of filmmakers, the works of French directors’ are very eclectic and visually stunning. Why do you think French filmmakers pay such close attention to visual elements?
I’m not sure that, visually, a lot of things are being done in France. Most films here are very…soft. Some people are now beginning to do a little more, but before, it was the stories themselves that were always more important.

Since you have experience as both a director and an actor, do you allow the actors you work with to run almost completely free when it comes to how they play the roles?
I direct them a lot! For the scene in The Man of My Life that’s shot at the break of dawn, we rehearsed for two week, just so it looks very natural. We shot it for five nights.

Where did you get the inspiration for The Man of My Life?
I don’t know. They’re different stories—I wanted to speak about the power of love, the power of falling in love. I wanted to show it in another way; to let it be something about choice.

A huge part of the show is the all-night conversation between Hugo and Frederick. What was your most life-changing all-night conversation?
I’ve had some discussion with a friend about my point of view about love. Of course it was different, because it wasn’t someone I was falling in love with. Lovers love speaking about love. It’s something magical.

Is this a sad or happy film to you?
Neither. I think I wanted it to be… “touching inside your belly.” Love always make you hurt inside the belly, in the centre of yourself. It’s like someone pushes a finger into your solar plexus. It does this to everyone with feelings and it’s a bit painful.

When you were making the film, did you already have in mind that Frederick and Hugo wouldn’t end up together?
Yes, I wanted it to be an open end.

What do you have planned next?
I’m directing a play here in France and acting in two television films. And I’m beginning to think of another movie, but it takes lots of energy. The most difficult thing ever is to write.

Malaysian filmmaker Amir Muhammad has come a long way since his debut flick Lips to Lips (2000). Acclaimed for his biting documentaries and experimental projects such as last year’s The Year of Living Vicariously and Tokyo Magic Hour, Muhammad has come up with his best film yet, The Last Communist, now available on DVD.

What triggered the movie?
The experience of working on my previous documentary, The Year of Living Vicariously in Indonesia. The film ended up being at least partly about Indonesian people’s memories, and perceptions of the Communist era of the ’60s, so it made me curious about the Malaysian equivalent. Also, Malaysian communist leader Chin Peng’s memoir, My Side of History, was out at that time. It was an interesting read and gave (as its title would suggest) a different account of the Malayan Emergency. The book, strangely enough, also made me curious about the towns he lived in, from his birth to national independence. I had, shockingly, never spent time in any of those towns. I wanted to visit them. So both these things together made me want to do The Last Communist as a semi-musical road movie.

Is this is the direction that you had originally wanted to take to begin with—a semi-musical format?
In researching early Malayan documentaries, I was charmed to find that many of them had songs. These early documentaries, made in the ’40s, were taken to villages as they contained song-and-dance routines to keep the target crowd entertained. Even till today, that type of song would be familiar to anyone who watches Malaysian public TV. So the choice seemed appropriate.

How did you decide on the actors and collaborators for the film?
I’d worked with music composer Hardesh Singh and editor Azharr Rudin before. I felt comfortable with them because they are both such creative young guys who added a lot of their own personalities into the work. Singh introduced me to Zalila Lee, the main singer in the film. She is not well-known yet; so we were hoping this would launch her recording career. All three seemed to fit well into the mix. This was my first time with the director of photography Albert Hue, but we have since worked together on the sequel to The Last Communist, which is called Village People Radio Show. His enthusiasm and humour were absolutely essential for the shoot.

What’s your personal take on Communism and how it has shaped Malaysia today?
Communism is a beautiful ideology in theory because it assumes that people want to share. But in practice it tends to descend into dictatorship, no? But I still believe there is bound to be a better system than global capitalism. Even though the Malaysian Communist Party was never big in terms of membership, I would say that it has shaped Malaysia greatly. Why? Because our government has for decades needed to resort to the Communist bogey to justify its own undemocratic actions such as the continual implementation of its Internal Security Act.

What was the most difficult part of making the film?
We deliberately shot a lot of footage. We followed the path of Chin Peng’s life, chronologically, but other than that we didn’t restrict ourselves in theme. The biggest challenge was then in trying to reduce the 55 hours of footage to 90 minutes.

What has response been so far at film festivals?
The response overseas has been pretty good. The film premiered at the Berlin Film Festival in Feb and has since been in over 20 other festivals, including London, Hong Kong, Seattle and Vancouver. It can’t screen in Malaysia as it has been banned by the Home Affairs Minister Dato Seri Mohd Radzi. It had been passed earlier by the Censorship Board but Radzi overruled it after a Malaysian newspaper ran a daily campaign against it without even seeing it. Radzi’s final reason for the ban was that the documentary “was not violent enough.” The period of the ban was a very intense one in terms of media publicity and I chronicled a lot of it on my blog http://lastcommunist.blogspot.com. Luckily the DVD can be bought in that bastion of democracy, Singapore, and also on www.amazon.com.

What do you hope audiences will take away from the film?
A sense that history operates in the present tense. That is why I refused to use archival footage, but kept to present-day images and testimonies.

Our concrete jungle will see the establishment of a new wildlife rescue centre come April next year. The Acres Wildlife Rescue Centre (AWRC) will house animals which were smuggled into Singapore, and later confiscated by the AVA (the Agri-Food and Veterinary Authority of Singapore).

Tell us more about AWRC. What kinds of animals will be housed there?
Primates, marsupials, reptiles, small carnivores and small ungulates. It’ll house approximately 400 animals.

What does the AWRC need the most currently?
Funds! We need over a million Singapore dollars to establish the Acres Wildlife Rescue Centre and we urgently need help from the public!

What’s the worst animal trafficking incident you can think of?
A smuggler packed six baby orang utans in two crates and checked them in as luggage at Changi Airport in 1990. They made it through customs but during the transit in Bangkok, the custom officers heard the orang utans crying. They opened the crates and found the babies upside down. They were packed so tightly that they could not even move. All eventually died.

That’s sad. If you had free reign, how would you punish animal traffickers?
Kidnap them from their homes, tie them up, pack them in crates and send them to live in a prison on the other side of the world!

What’s one lesson that you think animals can teach humans?
There is a chimpanzee called Washoe who can communicate with humans using sign language. Washoe previously had a miscarriage. Her caregiver was pregnant and also had a miscarriage. When she returned to see Washoe, Washoe asked, “Where’s baby?” She replied “Baby died.” Washoe then signed, “Come hug.” Animals extend compassion to other species and this, we can learn from them.

In your pocket: Cigarettes, money, antibiotics, keys, mobile phone, lip balm, chewing gum and ointment for our new tattoos.

Never leave home without: Underpants and individuality.

Happiest moment: Having great new songs out and being able to sleep well at night.

As a child: F**king naughty, always skipped classes.

Idol: Parents and ourselves.

Reading: Ngao Phisart and Respect for Acting.

Favorite Bangkok sound: Rain.

All-time favorite songs: Jack Johnson’s “Better Together,” Frank Sinatra’s “My Way”.

Favorite restaurant: Japanese restaurant Taiko on Sukkumvit Soi 49.

In 20 years: The most young-looking 50-year-old ever, and probably raising grandkids.

Would like to be remembered as: Warriors.

My father was my ultimate idol. He was a teacher and his hobby was drawing film billboards that were hung in front of theaters. I liked watching him paint the boards and dreamed of being like him someday, not knowing that being a billboard painter isn’t a very high profile profession.

The “gift” is a characteristic that an artist possesses, like the love to paint, read, write or sing. Those who don’t have it just don’t care about these things at all.

Learning and studying helps, but in the end not every art student becomes an artist: Only the gifted ones.

Practice is also important. The skill of someone who paints 30 pictures a month is distinguishable from someone who paints one picture.

Diligence is the key to success, but wit and talent come into play, as well.

Teachers’ ethical codes stress that they should be serious and dedicated to imparting knowledge to every student equally. But art is not like that.

Art cannot be taught. What teachers can do is to encourage and suggest—the rest the students have to think and do for themselves. That’s art.

From my 30 years of teaching, I’ve realized that I shouldn’t try to make every single student good. Students will learn and adjust to their group or class.

I began writing as an art critic for Siam Rath newspaper—as I see it, it was the first art criticism column in Thailand. After five or six years I got bored with it because it earned me a new enemy every day.

Thai people don’t like criticism, but they like gossiping. I lost lots of friends. Respected artists and art teachers didn’t mind my critiques—but their students and admirers did.

Once you exhibit a picture or publish a book, the work is not yours anymore: It’s public property. People can criticize your work in every way. If you can’t accept this, you should keep your work at home.

My first book was 20th Century Nirvana, written around the time of October 14. Today when I read it I get a headache and constipation.

I decided to change to something light, easy and accessible like novels. And the result has been too good to be true. The books sell really well.

I began my art in the same way as my writing—seriously with unbendable determination. In my time, abstract art was the trend and those who did realistic works were called old-fashioned.

Abstract art encourages thinking because people don’t get it at once—or at all.

Even though I’ve received many awards from my abstract art, as I’ve grown older I’ve thought more about how to make people understand my work. So I incorporated subjects and stories into my art—and it has proved easier and more fun.

Doing realistic art reminds me of my school years. I’ve found that it’s more pleasurable than using only my imagination.

I feel like I have begun living another life by returning to my roots. I don’t need concepts and emotions anymore; I just paint what I feel like. I don’t disturb anyone’s thinking. They just see the pictures, like or don’t like them and that’s it. I want art to be like this.

How and why did you become a driving instructor?
The main reason is I love driving, and I want people to have safety driving in mind. That’s what this course is designed for.

Do they have a test for instructors before they can get to teach?
Yes, there’s an audition. This school has been operating for two years but the course originated in Germany 30 years ago. Candidates need to drive a slalom course so the evaluators can see our basic skills. Instructors need a higher level of basic driving skills than ordinary drivers. Then there will be an interview about basic knowledge of the car and they can see our characters.

What is the most important thing for safe driving?
The principles that BMW Driving School teaches are driving position, handling the wheel, consciousness and calmness. If we sit properly, we have a better vision of the road and can take better control of the wheel when something suddenly happens. Accidents happen anytime. We also feel the car and its reaction better. The right way to hold the wheel is the universal 9 and 3 o’clock position and hook your fingers in the wheel. You’ve got to have both hands on the wheel all the time so that you know the position of the wheels, especially when you do a u-turn.

What is the difference between being able to drive and knowing how to drive?
It’s safety. Anybody can drive but if a motorcycle falls in front of your car, how one reacts is the difference. Parents always say to their kids, “Don’t run or you will fall.” But BMW’s course encourages you to run and to fall. So that you know the problems, how to avoid them and how to fix them—recognize, avoid and solve.

What is the thing that people always forget about driving?
Tires. It’s very significant because tires are the one element in contact with the road. Even if you drive a Ferrari, Lamborghini or BMW, if the tires suck, they cannot transfer the technology in the machine onto the road and the driver. Thais always ignore the condition of their tires which really are important.

Welcome to the world of Tokidoki, brainchild of Italian illustrator and artist Simone Legno. Best known for creating works for brands like Fornarina and Le Sports Sac, his illustrations, dubbed “Tokidoki,” are a melange of cute skulls, cows, tulips, rainbows, bunnies and chirpy birds, and are a big hit among fashionistas who like their bags, T-shirts and accessories colourful and eye-catching. We talk to the likeable and talented Legno about the concepts and ideas behind his works, and what makes him such a hit.

Tell us your story. How did Tokidoki come about?
I started out as a graphic designer for ad firms. Back then I had clients like Toyota and Saatchi & Saatchi. I also did some random projects like store window displays and decorations, and illustrations for mobile phones for Motorola and MTV. Illustration wise, I’ve been sketching since elementary school. My walls at home have became a Simone Legno gallery of sorts. So I decided to launch my website www.tokidoki.it featuring my illustrations, which subsequently turned into a very popular website.

In a lot of your work, you have female characters as focal points. Who are they?
I put together lots of wonderful qualities a woman should have, which is not just about the aesthetics. It’s the shyness, the sweetness, the gentleness and the sensuality a woman possess that I want to portray in my works. I think my girls in the illustrations are very different from the manga girls from manga comics. Manga comics usually feature girls with very expressive postures and big breasts. But in mine, they are more accurate, like real Asian women. They express lots of elegance and sensuality, but I wanted to express through them other aspects like fun and cuteness. So the accompanying cute characters like the birds and flowers are the best way to bring out this “cute” aesthetic. My designs were mostly Japanese influenced until two years ago. Now they’re a mix of LA glamour, featuring glamorous girls with diamond studs and coloured hair. They’re more punk-rock! I’m sure with the experiences that I go through and all the travelling that I do, my work will keep changing.

What you’re doing is considered fashion collaboration/crossover, especially with the bag range for Le Sports Sac. Do you worry about becoming mass market with this kind of work?
There are certain items that become more mass when they collaborate with big brands. I don’t want to burn the market and end up being mass market myself. If I wanted to be a super millionaire, I would have been one. I’ve had people who wanted to take Tokidoki in that (mass) direction, but I didn’t want it. I would have been 20, 40 times bigger right now if I had.

I wanted to concentrate on creating more artsy and sophisticated products in the long run.

So do you see the Le Sports Sac collection as a as work of art?
I really hate to say that what I do is art, but comparing them to lots of things that are considered art these days, yes, I do consider my works as art. I try to put the best of myself out there. I’ve had lots of people who consider themselves as art and fashion critics, who speak about my work as art or fashion icons. So I would say yes. But basically, I just create works that I like.

Which fashion designers and artists do you respect? Have they influenced you in any way?
I have artists I like, but I won’t say they inspire me. I look to the iconography you find on the streets. In Japan especially, you’ll find big institutions like banks or insurance companies that use cute mascots in their everyday iconography, and I like that.

You have many fans, and are very popular and sought after now. What do you have to say to that?
Yeah. [Laughs] My illustrations are now licensed by Fornarina, among others. It’s a very big fashion label, which has stores in Rome in the main street where Prada, Gucci, Ferragamo and Louis Vuitton are. When you go abroad and you start to make it in the US, you end up getting very respected back in Europe!

Is there anywhere else you’d like to see your work? Or have you already conquered the world?
What I would love to do one day is a collaboration with an airline, and perhaps decorate a aeroplane. Singapore Airlines, maybe?

Zai Kuning and John Sharpley are familiar names in the local music circle. Working hand in hand for the first time, they infuse different sonic elements in the show Homage to the New Skin, in an attempt at self-discovery and spiritual enlightenment. We chat up the two guys to find out more about their abstract piece.

First, what musical elements are involved in Homage to the New Skin? What can audiences expect?
John Sharpley: The show is about the coming together of two musicians, Zai and me. Through improvisations, we seek to communicate at a spiritual level. I will play the piano—from the outside as well as from the inside, and will also utilize gongs, tam-tams, special tools and more. Zai will play guitar, the gong, hand drum and sing. Given our different backgrounds, the results of our collaboration have been rich and startling. Audiences can expect the unexpected.

Homage to the New Skin uses skin as a metaphor referring to the boundaries one imposes on oneself, as well as the perceptions inflicted by others. How does this collaboration depict this?
JS: The “skin” separates the inside from the outside. We easily define ourselves by all that lies within our own “skin.” We may define others by what we perceive to be their “skin.” To what extent am I you and you me? Through our improvisations, Zai and I explore connections and divisions, individuality and union. The “new skin” implies the awakening of the self. Music improvisation is a powerful caldron for both one’s inner awakening and the realization of the oneness of all things.

One’s inner awakening? What have you learnt about yourself in this work?
JS: I learn more about myself by learning about Zai. I learned that there is a real person called Zai Kuning. My previous notions of Zai were rather artificial and somewhat defined by the media and other people’s perceptions. I always battle labels such as classical music, fusion, sound artist, East and West. This collaboration with Zai intensifies this battle.

You mentioned there is a oneness to all things too. Are you guys asserting that humans have a common essence?
Zai Kuning: Yes. I describe that commonality as the emptiness or innocence inside us. As we grow up, many things like perceptions, interests and desires are being put inside this void and a “make-believe” world is created.

Zai, how do you personally relate to this show?
ZK: It is said that when a man reaches 40— I’m 42— it’s time for some self-interrogation. And one of the things that needs questioning is the skin or mask we carve onto ourselves. The title metaphorically suggests that I need to strip this skin or mask bit by bit and grow. It’s a process of detachment. I am not religious, but I think if I need to grow and glow from the inside, one way for me to do so is to question my understanding about my attachment and detachment towards things in life.