29/1/2020, An Act of Deconstruction Session 6.

I'm back in the beautiful space of the Tampines Regional Library. It is pouring really heavily outside but I am not going to let that dampen my mood and motivation for today's session.

I'm currently in the midst of reading a new book by one of my favourite authors, Haruki Murakami. I am in love with his style of writing, and the way he is able to bring so many different ideas (although they may seem random on first glance) and wave it into one cohesive understanding. This particular one is 2 novella combined into one - 'Hear the Wind Sing' & 'Pinball, 1973'.

This is Murakami's first attempt at writing a novel. A story, even though he has never had taken a class on writing before. He sat on his kitchen table at the wee hours of dawn & dusk writing this particular novella. You can see the young Murakami, at that time, finding his voice. Finding himself. One of the most stunning aspects that I truly love about his writing is his ability to make his readers see the bigger picture. And that moment happened when this sentence popped out to me:

"Civilisation Is Communication.

When that which should be expressed and transmitted is lost, civilisation comes to an end. Click.. OFF"

I immediately put down my coffee and started jotting down ideas/inspirations/thoughts that came into my brain. As a young writer, Murakami was not proficient in the English language. His stories have been translated into many different languages, in order to bridge that gap of communication and make his works more accessible. In his foreword, he wrote that he simply did a direct translation of what he had written in Japanese, although he had abandoned that idea halfway through the novel (I have not noticed that shift yet, maybe I might as I read on). Then I thought to myself, what if I did a direct translation of the poem in Malay into English? Simply verbatim.

I took out my phone and immediately started doing the act of translation from Malay to English. I typed in exactly the words that Mohd Naim Daipi wrote, and jotted down the English translation of his poem via Google Translate. Aka technology. As I was writing, I started to notice the deliberate choice of words used by Annaliza Bakri.

So on the left is the poem translated by Annaliza, and the right is the poem translated by Google. I wrote in blue the major difference, mostly within the choice of words that Annaliza had substituted. What I had immediately realised was the preservation of the intention through Annaliza's poem. I can see that she had preserved the memories/visuals of the poem originally written by Mohd Naim Daipi. How did I come to this realisation?

I am a visual & kinesthetic learner. As a dancer, I learnt movements and dance through observing and replicating sensations in my body. Additionally, when a sentence or a word evokes an emotion or memory within me, I tend to associate those memories/emotions with that word. Like an attachment. I had very similar visual memories when I read the Google poem against Annaliza's poem. But what intrigued me the most, was Annaliza's substitution of words into something that is a bit more visual/dynamic. Examples:

Observe = Note

Belt = Angles (I wonder why this word was changed.)

Truthfully = Actually

Reconcile = Cradle

Merged = Mixed

When I think of belt, a few associations comes into mind. The belt that men wear to hold their pants together, the belt that carries our luggages and items from one place to another, the geographical belt etc. That was the most surprising translation for me in this poem. However, belt also sometimes can mean a straight ongoing path. Like a travelator. 21st century associations.

I started grabbing A4 paper and drawing lines on it. One after another, signifying a belt. I started piecing the belt together, and played with the confines of that belt. A restriction, a guideline. As I walked with my bare feet on the belt, the crisp crackling of the paper upon the soles of my feet echoed in the room. It felt literal, but at the same time, powerful. I felt like I was charting my own path and finding that road in the middle of my trip, aka crossroads.

The imprint of my weight has crumpled the paper slightly, but you can see the toll that the paper has took in order for me to get to take the next step. When I researched the meaning of the poem in Malay, kotaku aims to express what these places mean to the poets and people who built this nation. Paving the way to progression, to easier lives ahead, to success.

For simplicity, I have decided to break down The Act of Deconstruction into 3 Acts:

Act 1: Paving

Act 2: Slowing Down

Act 3: My Safe Space

Here are the reasons/motivations behind each act:

Act 1: Paving

Paving the way to the future. Learning from the past.

The paper represents the road paved by the people who have built their city from the ground up.

The paper also represents education, which equates to "the road to success".

What can those restrictions inspire?

Act 2: Slowing Down

Breath as a measure. Breath as Rhythm/Cadence. Breath as Remembrance.

In an attempt to avoid historical amnesia, slowing down is essential to remember, honour and preserve the places and people that were dear to us.

Act 3: My Safe Space

"Civilisation as Communication" - Haruki Murakami, Hear The Wind Sing

In My City, where is my safe space? How does it look like? How does it feel like? Do my words create my safe space? In the midst of Kotaku, where does my own personal memories lie within the safe spaces of a poem?

These acts may change, but this is my guideline for now. As my research progresses deeper, it slowly becomes slightly clearer. My next struggle: how do I express all of this?