AsiaLIFE

Cambodia has many unwritten rules, one of which is not to write on private property. Bearing this in mind artists Peap Tarr and John Berko Berkavitch discuss graffiti’s potential in the Kingdom with AsiaLIFE’s Mai Lynn Miller Nguyen.

Once considered vandalism, graffiti has now gained acceptance as a legitimate art genre in the West. However, it is doubtful that it will emerge here the same way as it did in say, New York, where graffiti has gone from the streets to the galleries. Following recent exhibitions by visiting and expat graffiti artists in Cambodia, the question rather is whether the rise of graffiti could occur in the opposite direction—from the gallery to the streets.

A New Perspective
Peap Tarr represents a redefined concept of a graffiti artist. He paints walls, but also paints canvases. Rather than the ubiquitous spray can, the Khmer-Kiwi artist’s tool of choice is a paintbrush. Though he got into graffiti through tagging, the term for covering public space with a stylised signature, these days Tarr focuses on intricate designs that are a modern, urbanised take on Khmer art.

Having moved to Cambodia earlier this year, he hopes to help introduce graffiti to the country, while keeping on the right side of the law.

Together with two Malaysian artists Tarr recently lead a workshop for children through NGO Mith Samlanh. After showing examples of their work and coaching techniques, the artists handed over the paint to the children to create their own graffiti.

“Are we teaching kids to do illegal activities?” asks Tarr. “We were using canvases. Afterwards, we did do something on a wall. That’s not illegal. At the end of the day, we’re just showing them another form of art.”

The Question of Space
The use of public space is a key element of graffiti. For Cambodia, the issue of finding space to paint poses a challenge.

“What Cambodia needs is more publicly owned buildings,” says John Berkavitch, a Phnom Penh-based artist and veteran of the British graffiti scene. “There’s so much private property. This is what I worry about graffiti in Cambodia. If the average Cambodian came out of their house and saw some kid painting on the side of it, it probably wouldn’t go down too well.”

In May, residents of Phnom Penh were outraged when an Italian artist stencilled the walls of Tuol Sleng genocide museum with the likenesses of executed detainees. In terms of placement, Tarr and Berkavitch agree that graffiti artists must respect certain codes of conduct. “Graffiti is about adding to the aesthetic, not just for publicity,” says Berkavitch.

His own story presents an example of how graffiti can be interpreted innovatively. As a co-writer and performer for the acclaimed production “TAG: Just Writing My Name,” which toured across the UK from 2006 to 2008, Berkavitch created metaphorical graffiti through dance and dialogue.

Promoting Art for Art
“Essentially graffiti is conceptual art, you’re not making it to sell,” says Berkavitch. A professor at a Cambodian University, Berkavitch teaches a course on multimedia. When he discusses graffiti with his students, he attempts to explain its fundamental tenet—creating art simply for the sake of creating art.

For Cambodians, this understanding of art has been overshadowed by the necessity of earning money. Post-war Cambodia, still reeling from socio-economic trauma, has not been an environment where creativity easily flourishes. “There’s a lot of talented artists here,” notes Tarr. “But people have to do things to survive.”

An emergence of graffiti in Cambodia could occur in two ways. One option would be that Cambodians adopt styles from the West, as has largely occurred in other Asian countries. The more compelling alternative would be that Cambodians build an approach of their own.
During the Mith Samlanh workshop, Tarr encouraged the kids to represent their culture. They created paintings of Naga snakes and Buddha—demonstrating the potential of graffiti to be an original means of expressing Khmer identity.

Looking Forward
At the guesthouse where Berkavitch first stayed in Phnom Penh, he and a friend shared sketches of graffiti outlines with a member of staff.

“Two weeks ago, we went back to the guesthouse and he was standing outside with a can of gold and a can of red,” recounts Berkavitch. “I got there just after he finished painting, and he was so pleased with himself. He’d had that moment that I had the first time. He was able to look at that whole wall and think you know, that doesn’t look too bad.”

As artists like Berkavitch and Tarr strive to establish graffiti in Cambodia, there is the potential for stories like these to become more common. Techniques can be taught, but ultimately the art form will develop only if Cambodians themselves embrace graffiti.

“Through graffiti, people find their own ways of exploring,” says Tarr. “ I definitely think it will grow here, but it’s going to take time.”