“Clown college? You can’t eat that.” The immortal words of Homer Simpson. As Homer pulled up to the billboards on ‘new billboard day,’ he was greeted with various advertisements in all their unquestionable glory; namely muffins, barbeque sauce and clown college. Homer’s ordeal over the next few days saw him taking a course at clown college with hilarious results. It was funny because nothing seemed more bizarre than there being a college for clowns.

Fast forward to three dimensions and over to Venice, Florida, and there is (or was) a genuine clown college. This is no joke. The college was set up in 1968 and helped revive a profession that was all but dead. Whilst their exploits may not be as comically satisfying as Homer’s attempt to loop-the-loop on a tricycle, there are people who study various arts and crafts at clown college. These are the people who are out to prove that clowns are not just strange men in make-up, hamburger fiends and killers of children in Maine.

Clowning is an intricate art that involves pantomime, improvisation, character development, gag writing, makeup and choreography. Clowning has become a genuine profession, with clubs, museums and even a hall of fame. Long gone is the tradition of clown wannabes running away with the circus. This is the 21st century after all.

One graduate of clown college is here in Bangkok amongst us. She isn’t alone. Nancy Schwartz is here in Bangkok with a group of people. They aren’t all clowns, but they are pushing the boundaries of contemporary art and performance in directions that perhaps Bangkok is not familiar with.

Sadly, clown college is no longer in operation, but Nancy is by no means distraught. An immeasurably sprightly character, she brings an air of excitement to the Bangkok art scene. “Clown college was a long time ago now,” she reminisces. “It was incredibly competitive. They only accepted 50 people each year from applications of over 5,000.” Having moved to Bangkok with her girlfriend, Nancy has been steadily spreading the word of street performance across the city. “I actually don’t like the term ‘street performance.’ Some people call what we do guerilla theatre, but I don’t think that description really works either.”

Nancy has even used her work for teaching purposes in New York, amongst other places. Categorising of their work aside, Nancy and her colleagues have been preparing for an event the likes of which may frighten and bemuse the people of Bangkok.

Oh they float, they all float

Picture, if you will, a scene: a family of clowns sits before an enormous television in an outdoor living room. They are watching a band performing on the television. Not long passes before the clown family get up and walk through the screen and into the programme, pulling in confused passers by as they go. This is not an acid flashback, but what is known as ‘circus street theatre.’ It’s alive and well and it’s in Bangkok.

The concept takes interactive television to new levels. In a city that perhaps fears innovation and physical action as a form of expression, there seems to be little room for grounded, grassroots performance. “Lunge,” as the collective have come to be known, came together to prove that there are groups of people in Bangkok who have interests that shy away from hi-tech multimedia pop culture.

This group’s interests are rarely catered to, and as such there are few opportunities for them to do what they enjoy. This is all about to change. ‘Sorry I’m Late’ is a show that has brought together a collection of international performance artists, specialising in mime, puppetry, music, clowning and much more besides.

Over eight weeks at eight different locations, ‘Sorry I’m Late’ will take place with a focus on the audience. The majority of the show’s appeal comes in the form of crowd interaction, whereby anyone and everyone will be free to show their talents and character for the world to see. Perhaps such a concept is too extrovert for Bangkok to appreciate, but there are those in the city who frown at this very notion, and these are the people that have come together to form ‘Lunge.’

We can’t stop here, this is bat country

San Francisco performance artist G. Randall Wright is at the forefront of the organisation. “I got involved with all of this by accident,” he says. “Really we all came together because someone knew someone, who knew someone, who knew another guy that could play guitar.” The haphazard manner in which the group came together is demonstrative of the haphazard nature of street performance. “We aren’t sure how the shows are going to go. We aren’t even totally sure what we are going to do at each show. The shows are not set within strict perimeters, but they kind of evolve by themselves.” And therein lies the freedom within street performance. The unruly nature of the art-form does not serve to undermine its validity, but rather strengthens its meaning through genuine human expression.

Randall is full of life, constantly smiling for no apparent reason and saying the most normal of sentences with an enthusiasm that can perhaps only come from the mind of an artist. He is a likeable character and seems to thrive off the unpredictable nature of his art.

Street arts are nothing new to Bangkok. At the end of last year, Thailand’s first international community arts festival, Hoontown, took place in Samsen Soi 5. It received more than 3,000 visitors over the course of three days. These people were interested to see puppet shows, street performances, musical shows and various street arts. The event received major media attention and was noticed by MTV who have a similar event planned for later this year. Street arts are simple, fun concepts that have an immediate enjoyment factor that is difficult to attain from other art forms.

The venues for ‘Sorry I’m Late’ will be eight of Bangkok’s universities. This will give students at each of the universities a chance to show there own talents, whatever they may be, to mass audiences without fear of rejection for doing something different.

Molded around an innovative business model, the event allows for unconventional artistic inspiration to be presented to new audiences. Each mini-art fair is being co-organised by the universities themselves and Blackwood Ventures, a local startup company looking to nurture the creative underground of Bangkok. “Most of the entertainment, arts or culture in Thailand comes from pop-culture or the fine arts,” says Nat, one of the organisers. “Real originality and creativity happens in non-mainstream, street performance.”

To put on events such as these requires sponsorship, not least of all to pay the performers who are devoting a considerable amount of time to their projects. “It’s great that we can do this and actually get paid,” says Nancy. Increasing numbers of companies are opening up to the idea of street performance as presenting some sort of valid business opportunity. Through the realisation of this concept, more events are sponsored and the artistic scenes are able to expand and reach wider audiences. For means of an example, Sprite has been a part of street culture in the US for many years now, and they are also helping to sponsor ‘Sorry I’m Late.’ Other electronics and telecommunications companies have also expressed interest in getting involved.

The hoons are alive

By holding the events in universities, the performers are able to show their talents to both those who are interested and those who are not. The performers themselves first met at Hoontown, which was a genuine community event; something perhaps rare in the city of angels. Students will be able to show off what they are interested in (be it music, sculpture or painting) alongside artists from all over the world. Crowd interaction will blur the line between audience and performer.

Each show will last approximately two hours, and will be broken down into sets of two-minute vignettes which will give the performances a fresh, edgy feel. The puppetry element is something that Hoontown explored in some depth. It opened up an entirely new form of art to people who may otherwise have thought puppets were mere wood and string. The puppeteers have each made puppets of themselves, and so the performances will take on a surreal element, as performers perform with their own likenesses.

For those interested in keeping up with the antics of ‘Lunge’ as they traipse around Bangkok’s university campuses, the best advice is to keep an ear to the ground. The events will take place in June and July and the madness will be committed to writing in Guru every week with images to boot. There is a phone number to call, but calling it may or may not be of any use, if only because street performance likes to keep its audience on its toes. The number is 02-684-1600-2.

Tags: Travel by Angel
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I always go on about Phuket, so here’s something about somewhere different for a change.

Confusion over time zones meant that I had set my watch an hour too far ahead and so we woke up, my girlfriend and I, ridiculously early in the morning and left our hotel in Legian, Bali, just as the sun was rising. There were no touts out to sell us coconuts or henna tattoos or taxi rides; it was just us and the early-morning workers going about their daily business.

We made the effort to rise early with the intention of riding our rented Yamaha Mio motorbike all the way up to Ubud before the morning was through. On the map the journey was only about one inch and all indications were that it should have taken about an hour.

As we set off, the cool breezes of the morning were as refreshing as a splash of iced water. Bali’s infamous throngs of cars were yet to clog up the roads so we had a clear run into the distance. The rest of the island was still sleeping as we were beginning our journey to Ubud.

There was to be no plan; neither of us had much of a clue what we’d find in Ubud, but the journey’s purpose was to give us something to do, an adventure. The route from Legian to Denpasar was straightforward enough and signposts and hunches got us there. The signposts to Ubud were few and far between, so we got into the habit of asking every motorcycle rider we could find within earshot at junctions and traffic lights which way to go.

We drove back and forth, round and round, all over Denpasar until the early morning slipped from our grasp and was replaced by the morning rush. Mostly we just followed the traffic in the hope of coming across one prominent signpost that would lead us from our mazelike hell.

Frustration set in as the roads became unforgiving and our hopes of making it to Ubud seemed dashed. Just as we were wondering if it was even worth continuing with our journey, we took a left turn, dawdled for a moment too long and were stopped by a police officer.

All the police in Bali have moustaches and guns. We were pulled up on some ridiculous charge of having turned left when we should have turned right, but from his sharp rundown of us, the police officer found out that I had no driving license. He took the motorbike’s registration document and fiddled with a notepad and pen while a few kids gathered to watch.

We pleaded dumb and promised we would never be so reckless again, but the officer was keen to write a ticket. He got as far as writing down “Mett” before saying that we’d have to go to court or else pay an on-the-spot fine of 200,000 rupiah. We stood our ground and made up a story about having to leave the next day and that we were students, both very poor, and so had very little money.

Although he wanted to help us, the officer said he couldn’t, taking the registration document and walking back to his position directing traffic. We were left at the side of the road unsure what had just happened. The registration document belonged to a friend who had leant us the motorbike, so we couldn’t leave it there. As we were pondering what to do next, the officer strolled back and said that, just this once, he was going to let us off, but only if we paid 50,000 rupiah. “Of course!” we yelped. The officer awkwardly took our money, shook our hands and wished us well; before we knew it, we were back on the road.

From then on, the journey flowed together effortlessly. We found our way out of Denpasar and the signs pointing to Ubud became more and more frequent until all that was left was one long road, through rice paddies and tiny villages, to Ubud. The air was cool, even though the heat of the rising sun was beating down.

We were only in Bali for a week – a break from our manic lives in Thailand – but our time on the island made a lasting impression punctuated by this trip to Ubud. We were at a crossroads in many ways: after Bali I would be flying to Dili for a new start while my girlfriend was to return to Phuket. We wanted a trip to remember before we parted ways at Denpasar International Airport.

Ubud was the defining point of our vacation. As far as beaches go, Bali has some beautiful spots that make Phuket’s beaches look tame in comparison, but we wanted something more than sun, sea and sand.

We arrived in Ubud, ate lunch and cruised around until we came to the foot of a road leading up a hill that could have gone anywhere. Ever the ill-prepared, we set off on our motorbike to see where the road ended.

It didn’t end. The road carried on and on, snaking and winding and twisting and wrapping itself around shops selling all types of arts and crafts. Further up we reached a spot where there was a valley of rice paddies. The rich, dazzling greens of the paddies gave them a neon appearance with splashes of light as the rays from the sun bounced off the water and shattered into a million pieces.

We stopped to take in the sight of the rice paddies for about half an hour. We carried on up the hill and at some point decided to take a right turn. This part of the journey was the highlight of the trip to Bali. We passed through tiny, grassy villages lined with beautiful houses and temples, untouched by the modern world and reliant on the rice paddies to support themselves.

Every time we came across a group of children they screamed “Hello!” with delirious excitement. We saw no tourists or foreigners and came across no modern conveniences or gift shops or restaurants; we were among the farming community, where life breezes by. We stopped to buy some water and the people there were just amazed to see us.

I could have stayed forever and the sharp contrast between the peaceful village life and the backbreaking days I had spent in Thailand surrounded by clutter and chaos put a lot of things in perspective for me. I hope to return to Ubud some day in the future.

By MC for Education Living

Tags: Travel by Angel
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When it’s time to party on Thailand’s islands and beaches, most people instinctively head to the more well-known spots: Samui has QBar and enough nightspots to keep you up until the early hours; Pha-ngan boasts the full moon (and half moon, and black moon, etc.) parties; Samet has Silver Sands and its fairly repetitive musical policy; Koh Chang has beach parties galore and obligatory late night swimming; and Pattaya, well, in Pattaya they didn’t even stop partying during the coup on September 19 last year. But what if you want something a little more sophisticated? Who said a party by the sea has to be fuelled by reckless hedonism? Not the people on Koh Lanta, that’s for sure.

Lanta is a sleepy island. It’s blissfully peaceful, the beaches are pristine, and the waters glisten with the light from the blazing sun. It’s the perfect island for lazing and watching the days drift by, but come nighttime, what is there to do? One club that has been seeking to break the norm on the island is Ibark. Before the rains came and the island’s low season kicked in, Ibark was a hive of nocturnal activity, hosting some of the hippest parties outside of Bangkok.

A lot of island clubs rely on substandard DJs, chaotic dancefloors, and monotonous music, but Ibark is different. Now that it’s been spending some time establishing its status on the island, come November when it reopens for the high season, it will be a refreshing reason to choose Lanta over one of the nearby alternatives.

Ibark’s real strong point is its location: Nestled amongst thick forestry, just out of reach of the beach but with a stunning view of the ocean, the club’s high vantage point gives partygoers the impression they are on top of the world. A short flight of stairs elevates you to the club’s main area. The open air design of Ibark allows it to complement Lanta’s natural beauty, without battling with it.

With space for around 800 people, Ibark is large enough to generate a real clubbing atmosphere, as you might associate with a club like (the now defunct) Astra in Bangkok. The ground floor has a spacious lounge area, complete with tables and sofas, that leads into the dancefloor. In the far corner is the DJ booth, and next to that is the bar. The second story of Ibark is also open air, and has more room for loafing and enjoying the view.

When the night is young and people are feeling primarily like socializing and relaxing, the lounge area makes for a great place to anticipate the night ahead. The mood is calming and the ambience is inviting and comforting. Once the drinks begin to flow and the music picks up, the party really gets going and the fun begins.

The crowd is a mixture of foreigners and Thais who have all come together to enjoy the most lively party on the island. Being in such a serene location, the energy is sedated and refined thanks to the clean air, the stars twinkling in the sky, and the refreshing breeze emanating from the sea.

It’s a trendy club, and the clientele is certainly up for the occasion. The music has a varied focus, with everything from funky house and breaks to electro and tech-house getting some airtime. If you’re after the usual hip hop and pop songs that many clubs in Thailand play, you’ve come to the wrong place. Ibark prides itself on quality, clubbing music. The chillout lounge upstairs is where you’ll hear jazz, ambient, and bossa nova beats. The upstairs area is huge and is perfect if it all gets a bit too much downstairs. DJs who have graced the turntables at Ibark so far include Bangkok local favorites Joeki, K.I.T.T.I. and DJ Oui. A number of international DJs have also guested at the club, and there will be many more once the rains cease and Koh Lanta comes back to life.

A night out at Ibark isn’t a quiet night. These people know how to have fun. Wild dancing over both floors of the club, fire dancers spinning poi, and live musicians and percussionists make this place into what it is. Its preliminary opening months have seen it finding its feet, but after the success of the first parties it can only go from strength to strength, and already it’s being talked about as the new “in” place to be in the south of Thailand.

Ibark is just a short walk from the Sri Lanta Resort in Koh Lanta Yai (Klong Nin Beach); around half-an-hour’s drive into the island from the main town of Saladan. The party goes strong until 3 a.m. at which point people begin to disband, although the music can go on a lot later depending on what the crowd is like. The parties at Ibark will take place on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays with a 200 baht cover charge (although this is subject to change come November). Check www.ibarkkrabi.com for more info.

It’s great to see the best elements of an island party merged with the vibrancy of clubbing in the big city with a fantastic crowd of people and some top-notch tunes. Being outside, the party takes place under the stars and the moonlight, making it romantic and charming.

Ibark is one of the best places on Lanta to catch the sun setting, then kick back with a few drinks, and wait for the party to begin. Set on this idyllic Thai island, with inexpensive cocktails and a quality venue, Ibark is the perfect place to dance the night away.

Tags: Travel by Angel
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