Voices of the Marginalised Heard in “Unaccounted Travelogue” at MoCA Taipei
The exhibition "Unaccounted Travelogue" at MoCA Taipei sings the songs of marginalised population in Taiwan.
TAIPEI, Taiwan — In 2015, a visit to the exhibition Joyful Khaen, Joyful Dance at the Jim Thompson Art Centre in Thailand prompted Chung Shefong to cross-examine similar culture found in Taiwan. Two years of research bear fruit when the exhibition Unaccounted Travelogue opened at the Museum of Contemporary Art (MoCA) in Taipei.
As romantic as its title may sound, this exhibition curated by Chung Shefong does not attempt to explore grand journey of discovery, but the voices of those living on the fringe of society, namely the migrant workers from Southeast Asia, and Taiwan’s Indigenous population who created a particular genre of music that share similarities with the native folk music from Northeastern Thailand.
Track 1: “Not here For Fun”
The exhibition interweaves two tracks of marginalised voices. The first track, “Not Here For Fun”, recounts the struggles of Southeast Asian migrant workers in Taiwan, whose voices have often been neglected in the mainstream narrative.
In 1989, Taiwan opened its door to migrant workers. Regardless of their origin and occupation, this group of people are commonly referred to as wai lao, literally foreign labourer.
Since 1992, the passing of the “Employment Service Act” has allowed private companies to hire an influx of migrant workers to undertake the role of “supplementary work force”. The number of wai lao continues to increase ever since, and reached 700,000 in 2022.
“No Way to Escape” in Room 107 of the exhibition Unaccounted Travelogue
Many foreign workers who have travelled far from home — Indonesia, the Philippines, Thailand, and Vietnam — to Taiwan in order to earn a better living. But, as we all know, money comes with a price: freedom and a real life.
In the room “No Way to Escape”, visitors are invited to walk into a dimly lit labyrinth constructed of black and white banners hanging from above. On each of these banners are quotes that reflect the helpless state that many of these workers find themselves in: “I miss my family”; “Going back home means penniless”; “Plead for rights”; “Run away or stay?”
A selection of excerpts from the book, Escape: Our Formosa, Their Prison, can also be found on these banners, detailing these workers’ pain and struggle resulting from endless cycle of labour, unfair treatment, and loneliness. On the walls, a collection of paintings by Trần Duy Hưng, better known as the “missing migrant worker” from Vietnam, further intensifies this air of uneasiness.
“Brilliant Time: Southeast Asia-Themed Bookstore” in Room 105 of the exhibition Unaccounted Travelogue
In another room, an installation transforms a popular Southeast Asia bookstore into a departure lounge. The bookstore, Brilliant Time, is found near the celebrated Myanmar Street in New Taipei City.
Brilliant Time is more than just a bookstore: its books are only for rent and not for sell. In addition to its eclectic collection of books, paintings and craftwork from different parts of Southeast Asia, it also holds exhibitions, talks, and language classes, turning itself into a cultural space where diversity is embraced.
On display, there are copies of Sifang pao on the newspaper rack. Sifang pao (literally “newspaper of all corners”) is Taiwan’s first newspaper printed in Southeast Asian languages. Founded by Liao Yunchan and Chang Cheng (co-curators of this exhibition), this bilingual newspaper not only serves as an important source of information circulated among foreign workers, but also provides a platform for Taiwanese to gain insights to the livelihood of migrants and immigrants alike.
“No Love to Find” in Room 106 of the exhibition Unaccounted Travelogue
In another room, opened suitcases are scattered on the floor, containing books by donation and award-winning publication. This installation is a recreation of “Library on the Floor”, a mobile library found at the grand lobby of Taipei Main Station where migrant workers gather every Sunday afternoon. Many visitors would be surprised to find that the award-wining publication is associated with “Taiwan Literature Awards of Migrants”, which only accept submission in Southeast Asian languages.
Track 2: “True Love Can Wait Forever”
“True Love Can Wait Forever” — the second part of the exhibition — is a soundtrack of cross-cultural labour songs, including linban songs (林班歌) sung by Taiwan’s indigenous people, and molam (หมอลำ), a genre of folk music found in Northeastern Thailand.
Besides foreign workers, Taiwan’s earliest population or the Indigenous people of Taiwan went through similar struggle to have their voices heard. In 1951, the “Main Action Guidelines for Indigenous Administration” was issued in the hope of “improving the livelihood of indigenous people” through sinicisation of their languages, food, clothes, and housing. This ideology was propagated through music, such as in the “Lives of Indigenous and Baolin Song” from an album released in the 1950s.
The setting of “Jiu Jiu Jiu Yi Ci” is recreated the museum's Western Stairway 1F
This change disrupted the livelihood of many indigenous population, as they were forced to abandon their roots — homes, traditions, cultures, and family— for low wages, high risk labour. The quickest way to earn a living was to undertake the work of linban, literally forest compartment. These linban workers gave rise to the so-called linban songs, or Songs of Forest Compartments, characterised by its rich blend of music traditions and tribal languages.
Those who sought to try their luck in the big city found their safe haven at “Jiu Jiu Jiu Yi Ci” (久久酒一次), which was located near National Taiwan University. It was a space where urban indigenous gather to exchange ideas and perform, singing their “songs of wander”. This place — which has been recreated in the exhibition — became the designated cultural hub that nurtured generation of artists and thinkers who contributed to the development of indigenous art, literature, and music in Taiwan.
“Molam in the Cold War” in Room 205 of the exhibition Unaccounted Travelogue
Similar to the linban songs sung by the indigenous forestry workers is molam from Isan, Northeastern Thailand. Originally an entertaining storytelling form that reflects labour nostalgia and adversities of life, molam was appropriated for political purposes or, in the words of co-curator Gridthiya Gaweewong, “political euphemism”.
Particularly during the Cold War (1947–1991), molam was used to propagate the ideology of both communism and democracy in Isan. On display, we see images of molam singers who were recruited to perform for rural population, hoping to persuade them to support their cause.
Ling Dao (Small) by Adisak Phupa
Courtesy of MoCA, Taipei
Besides its native folk music, other traditions and beliefs of Isan have also become a source inspiration for Thai artists. A collection of mixed media installation on display draws its inspiration from Isan’s Boon Bang Fai (Rocket Festival), when the community comes to celebrate and makes sacrifice to the deity Phaya Thaen for rain and good harvest.
Artist Adisak Phupa created a series of carved wooden figurines titled “Ling Dao”, which are toys made for the festival. These toys are not made only for fun but symbolise abundance and fertility.
In addition, Phupa also made a video, “Vagina Myths: The Creator of Female and Male”, which adopts molam’s narrative form to recount local myths. While there seem to be little connection between the figurines and the video, they do share something in common: the desire to create that air of celebration during the Rocket Festival when villagers are able to express freely among themselves on uncensored subjects.
The exhibition closes with a video by Patiphan Luecha, who is perhaps better known for his stage name “Molam Bank”. Luecha moved to Kohn Kaen (one of the four major cities of Isan) to learn the arts of molam, and is known for using traditional musical instruments to express the distress and pain of its people:
“Tear after tear I shed in tune with the crooning khaen.
In God’s Metropolis, I am but a captive man.”
Now, do you hear the people sing?
Unaccounted Travelogue is currently on view at the Museum of Contemporary Art in Taipei, and runs through July 31st, 2022.