Arts
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Where
angels mingle with the mundane
Yes, the artist who's made an appearance at the Barefoot Gallery quite regularly these past few years is back with another surreal collection of watercolours where his favourite angels, trishaws and palm trees too find their place. "There's something magical in every day," he smiles and he's not some tourist extolling the beauties of this exotic paradise island, its lush vegetation and brilliant sunsets. He will tell you of the traffic jams and irritating 'yes' answers which mean no such thing, with alacrity. But what Alex Stewart the artist finds deeply inspirational is the spirituality that seems to be a way of life here and a more relaxed pace of living that allows for serendipity. His angels are not the winged kinds who appear in heavenly throng, but rather those in blue or purple saris who would befriend a weary traveller sitting alone in the airport lobby in the wee hours of the morning. He can find angels on the street corner and so can everyone of us if we only care to look for those moments that point us in the right direction, he says. Yorkshire born, Alex as a boy was dogged by illness, confining him to long spells in hospital beds where he had time enough to paint. Not that it ever seemed a likely vocation then. "Painting was only for those who couldn't do sports." Growing up and moving to London, he embraced the city life, embarked on a brief study of architecture then gave it up to work in the music industry managing bands. His brush with architecture however saw him find many friends who were artists and 'though I knew I could never be as good as them', he was prompted to try. A spell in the restaurant business followed but too much of a dissipated life brought him to a turning point. Then came what he calls 'an angel moment'. "Someone asked me 'what's always been your secret dream?'." It all seemed clear then. He took up painting in earnest and recalls the delight of selling his first, 'a bowl of cherries' in 1991. Essentially self-taught, his paintings have evolved over the years, becoming more figurative, exploring archetypal images, even finding common threads in Celtic and Eastern myths. "I've developed my own style and people have liked it," he says somewhat diffidently. He still suffers a crisis in confidence before each exhibition he confesses, but the calming presence of his wife Lizzie, an artist herself helps him regain perspective, he says. Communicating is important for this soft-spoken artist for he believes, that a painting must elicit some response from the viewer. "It must speak to the people who look at it." At exhibitions in the UK, children have been fascinated enough to try to dream up their own storylines to Alex's paintings, a response that has thrilled him. "They pick a bit from here and a little from there and make up stories" and he leaves paint and paper alongside the visitors' book so that they can create their own versions of his pictures. Back home in London after a trip East, he pins up all his photos, then makes drawings and lets the paintings take shape. "My wife says I nest," he smiles. It's a process he obviously enjoys greatly. At 10, he takes a walk in the park, enjoys a cup of coffee at a cafe nearby and returns to work., each painting more or less leading to the next. He has just had an exhibition in Delhi and Chennai in November/ December and plans to return to Sri Lanka later this year. But wherever his journeys take him, the amazing thing is that Alex Stewart's adventures begin afresh with each new day. 'Adventures of an ordinary man' continues till March 21 at the Barefoot Gallery. - Renuka Sadanandan
There’s no business like show business at the Wendt Anyone who has stopped by at the Lionel Wendt, to make a booking or for a rehearsal, or to buy tickets for a show is at the very least on 'nodding' terms with Metheris Uncle, Michael, R.K., Rupé, Wijey, Vasantha and Security Uncle; the Lionel Wendt 'set fit'. Marking fifty years of its existence last year, the Lionel Wendt Theatre saw much celebration. And during the major part of those fifty years, Metheris Uncle and his crew have stood on the sidelines supporting every director and performer who has taken the stage at the Wendt, and thus, in their own way have been responsible for contributing to the making of Sri Lanka's theatre culture. R. C. M. Samarawickrema, Metheris Uncle to many, dressed always (always) in impeccable white with the signature bunch of keys he jangles in hand is probably best placed in his usual spot at the front desk, felt pen in hand and box plan in front of him. Not too keen on being interviewed he writes out painstakingly a 'memoir' of sorts, in which he records that it was Harold Pieris himself who asked Metheris, supervisor and driver on the Pieris' estate, to work at the Wendt in 1970. When he came to Colombo, the Wendt was still to be completed, and yet people very much immersed in the arts, were coming in to perform. Working under many administrative officers for a period of 34 years, Metheris has grown to love the Wendt. And so, the J. O. C. bombing on June 21, 1991, which damaged the Lionel Wendt to quite an extent, is one incident that he has written about in detail. "For months, we saw no performances at the Wendt, because of the state it was in. And yet, the administrative staff, Ms. Iris Gunaratne and Ms. Chitra Thalgodapitiya without allowing themselves to be disheartened over the incident worked harder to restore the Wendt. It was a time when many individuals and organisations reached out to support us and we managed not just to restore the Wendt but, with time, to move on and improve the theatre as well." For the past 25 years Metheris has gone home only for the New Year, says Michael, who stays back to look after the Wendt because he knows that Metheris is not happy unless someone is there. Michael Pieris (no relation of Harold Pieris, he jested) took an animated walk down memory lane. Introduced to the Lionel Wendt administration by Father Lionel Pieris, the son of Harold Pieris, whom he met regularly at Sunday service at St. Luke's Church, Borella, Michael who counts 32 years of service at the Wendt took up his duties on April 2, 1972. "It was a time when things were very different," he said with a grin as he recaptured those 'days gone by'. "Those days to sit in the front row at the Lionel Wendt cost only Rs.7.50/-, and a balcony ticket was only 2 or 3 rupees. Today you have to pay about 100, 150 or even 200 rupees for a balcony seat. But that is something that must change according to the time. But this year after a long time we saw tickets being sold at twenty rupees at the Lionel Wendt." Michael’s memories record a time when, one show was held up for half-an-hour because of a power cut, the 'Rehearsal Room' didn't have mirrors, the hall-hire for the Lionel Wendt was 350 rupees, and the Wendt was 'cooled' using ice. "The ice was packed into a tank through which the air from the blowers would circulate. Our first modern air-conditioning system opened with the Workshop Players' production of Cats - those days people used to complain that it wasn't cool enough in the hall - now they say that it is too cool," he said with a laugh, while making the point that in recent times many changes and developments have been incorporated bringing the hall to the standard it is at today. That was also a time, Michael said, when shows would run for a standard ten nights, of which at least eight nights would be sold out. "People don't come for shows like they used to," said the man who has been a part of so many shows in his lifetime; his almost forty-odd collection of production t-shirts (a tradition that has caught on in our theatre culture) is evidence of this. When Michael started out at the Wendt his salary was 75 rupees ("a big thing then") and his biggest thrill, at the time, was his task of taking the cheques from the Wendt to one signatory's office in Fort, and then to the other's in Slave Island. "I used to take about eight or ten cheques," grinned Michael. After that he moved onto working on the lights for productions, where he was joined on the job by R. K. in 1980. "From the group of us at the Lionel Wendt now, I am, next to Metheris aiya and Michael, the most senior,' said R.K. who came to work at the Wendt in 1980. Working initially in cinema, R. K. moved into theatre when Bishop Abeynayake introduced him to Harold Pieris as he had left his old job and was on the look-out for something new. R. K., who originally worked as an electrician, found himself involved in so much more than just electrical work. "Anyone can do any job. If you take lighting for a show - if Rupé is not there, I do it. These things can be learned. I came here not knowing anything. It was Mr. Herft who was here at the time doing lighting for almost all the English shows who taught me about lighting systems." Now, during show time, they get involved at so many levels, said R. K. "When it's a play we are there for the set changes, to help with the flies, even to help with the set - anything!" R. K. talks of his two children, one in the forces whom he lost to the war, who used to come to watch show and even if they didn't see him, knew that somewhere their father was in action, a part of what they saw before them. R. K., the boy who studied at St. Anthony's College, Panadura, had never had big dreams. "As a boy I never saw this far into the future - I consider this good luck to have come here, where I am part of a good working team and have made friends with so many people integral to Sinhala, Tamil and English theatre, who I have met on this stage." "Kiwwoth onama deyak karrannang," Rupasinghe, better known as Rupé who has been at the Wendt for fourteen years popped in after setting the lights for the evening's show, claiming that he'd learnt how to do lights within his first month at the Wendt. "Now we do lights at the new lights board, not at the old one (installed he says by Mahinda Dias, Thushan Dias' father), which was more difficult. I have worked with so many directors who have taught me different techniques of lighting. Each director's ideas are different, which is good. When things around us are changing and developing, we also must adapt and bring in new things, no?" "I like it here," said Rupé simply, "People are used to us. They come here looking for us - if we are not to be found they may scold us and go, but they will come back again. I don't want to leave." Wijey who had been painting the last of the sets, a bright pink frame, spoke of how it was Rupé who introduced him to the team. A contract painter, Wijey's work route took him past the Lionel Wendt regularly where he'd stop for a chat. "So, when someone left, because they trusted me Metheris aiya asked me to join the team and help with the paint and 'set vada'. Because I live far away, I go home only when there are no shows. On show nights and rehearsal nights most of us stay at the Wendt. “Everyone works together - there's no other job like this in the whole of Colombo." The first sets the team worked on were for Jith Peiris and Indu Dharmasena, said Wijey. "Once we underestimated how much time we would need and the whole lot of us had to work till morning. All we need is something drawn on a piece of paper and then we can design something and make it." A task, which brings the whole lot together, it is one which they obviously enjoy. Going from Prince of Wales ruggerite, to sales representative to gem cutter, to contract painter, to mechanic, Vasantha, R. K.'s nephew finally settled down at the Wendt where he feels he has finally found his place. "I was learning lots of things from my uncle and the others when Chitra miss from the office said that we were getting a new sound board and asked if I could handle it. If someone could teach me how, I said, I could learn." And so, with lessons from "Adam mahattaya"(Mohammed Adamaly) Vasantha took his place at the sound board, becoming a figure familiar to most balcony viewers. "It's the show days that are the good days," said Vasantha, "Shows bring people here. We like it like that. Otherwise, we would be very lonely." On the way out the Security Guard at his post by the gate smiles as he says that although he's been at the Wendt for the last four years, he hasn't seen a show properly. "That's because I have a job to do here. We all take our work seriously and are glad to be here working together." That they are there working together is part of what takes many a show to the Wendt. It's the little things like the, "Aah missie, yannadha?" that keeps people going back to the Wendt. Moving
in its simplicity Cricket matches are firmly placed in proper perspective in the 'The Bigger Match’. As stated by C.Kanagenayakam in his introduction, there is an "understated subjectivity" which makes the poems all the more effective. Santhan has the poet's appreciation of simple things. The beautiful flamboyant bloom lying on the road, which he avoids by braking suddenly, the imprint of paws on the cement floor. We do not have to struggle with esoteric concepts or convoluted phrases here. It is written in a direct simple manner, and conveys to us the reality of another world. I find his poems both memorable and moving. The collection of poems should be compulsory reading for anyone wanting to understand our contemporary problems. However, it would benefit immeasurably by a little more editing. - Premini Amerasinghe |
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Copyright © 2001 Wijeya Newspapers
Ltd. All rights reserved. |
He
can stand at a street corner and see something magical. Something
in the humdrum everyday cycle of life that has its aura. Once it
was a huge cut out of a teacup and saucer that had come crashing
down, causing a traffic jam. That is Alex Stewart's gift.
There
are some 46 watercolours in this present collection which he calls
'Adventures of an ordinary man'. Ordinary man, he may see himself
as, but the paintings are far from mundane, seeking instead to look
beneath the surface. Side by side with some familiar scenes of fruits
stalls and thambili sellers, there's four-in-a-series set titled
'Letting Go', haunting, and disturbing, inspired he says by certain
deaths and disappearances.
