When Gerald was still living there, Aliwal was a space where there were normal chairs and other chairs, such as one that was a modified shopping trolley. There were paintings all over the place, though carefully hung up and displayed, one which looked like a Picasso rip-off, with disembodied eye and foot, or perhaps noses and lips, copies of Metallica posters, notably the cover of their first album Kill ‘Em All, and other strange artefacts. Three durian-like mounds stood out on the shelves, their green papier-mache spikey exteriors were gathering dust. On the rest of the shelves were mostly books.
I remember seeing Lee Wen for the first time—he came out of his room to hang his laundry on a metal clothes rack, he looked as ancient as the rack, scratched and slightly discoloured with use. At the time, his hair was long, its greasy grey curls seemingly tangled, his face etched with lines and wrinkles, though his eyes were still sparkling, and there seemed to be a mischievous air about him. At the time, I did not know anything about performance art, or that Lee Wen was a performance artist.
What stood out to me was the extent of his diminutive figure, and as he turned to peg the damp clothes onto the thin metal bars, I noticed the protruding hump on his back, caused by a life-long affliction of scoliosis, which made him instantly recognisable from far away. What I found even more memorable than his appearance, was the fact of his non-stop talking while hanging his baggy cotton trousers and faded t-shirts. He spoke animatedly and torrentially, as though he hadn’t seen another human being in months, but I don’t remember what he said.
For a short time I ended up becoming an administrative assistant to Lee Wen. During this period, I encountered strange situations, unexpected incidents, and peculiar on-goings. I remember one morning, when I came in to Aliwal, still groggy from not enough sleep.
‘I’ve just drunk a pint of piss’, he explained, clearly delighted. ‘I had a nightmare and when I woke up I immediately looked for somewhere to urinate. There was this glass pint and I relieved myself, and drank its contents.’
Not pausing for a response, he continued, ‘It was an homage to Vincent Leow who once did a performance where he sipped urine from a cup in protest of National Service.’
Eventually, it dawned on me that this extreme act was in fact some kind of art – an art that had no audience, but was nevertheless art – and that this man was not deranged. Such an act sums up Lee Wen for me, as someone continually provocative and continually opening my mind to different ways of thinking. All the same, he was not a good employer. After more than a month of work, he failed to pay me a salary… which is when I joined the social services sector as a mental health administrator.
Searching for Lee Wen
Writer, biographer and mental health advocate Chan Li Shan takes us on a path of discovery, while painting a vivid and searingly honest picture of a man many knew of, but few really knew. Along the way, she learns about art and friendship.
Excerpt - "Art as provocation"
Epigram Books, 2022
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Chan Li Shan
Chan Li Shan is a doctoral student at the University of Hawai'i at Manoa, where she has been awarded the Biography Prize for her work on Lee Wen. Her memoir, A Philosopher's Madness, was published in 2012. Her writings have been published by The Straits Times and Grey Projects. She was Director of the Writing Centre and Writing Residency Fellow at the Asian University for Women in Bangladesh.
Short Notes with Li Shan Chan
What does "Mata Hati | 心眼 | Eye of the Heart | மனக்கண் வழியே" mean to you in writing?
In Tan Tarn How’s play Fear of Writing, the main character, who is a writer, had a reflection. He said, “After a while, you stopped feeling the things that dug at you, otherwise you would go crazy”. We need to feel and articulate the things that dig, poke, jab, prod, prick us. That’s where we can begin to write from the heart.
What does your writing process look like? Do you type or write? Are there multiple drafts, long pauses, or sudden bursts of activity?
My writing process is messy and nonlinear, but reading is an essential part of the process. Throughout a writing project, I keep my favourite books around, and read to be inspired, to understand strategies and techniques used by others, and to be in conversation with others.
What does your working space look like?
I work mostly in the kitchen, sitting across from my washing machine and fridge, standing fan blowing, with 2 litres of green tea ready, legs raised on the rubber strips stretched across my reclining “relax” chair.
Make an elevator pitch for your shortlisted work in 30 words or less.
Searching for Lee Wen is a spirited story about the power of dreaming, chronicling the true life-history of a boy who overcomes the odds, the emergence of an artist, and a life dedicated to art-making.
Could you share a pivotal moment as you were writing this work?
Lee Wen and I connected because our bodies were touched by illness. “With Parkinson’s, I have a dopamine deficiency. With schizophrenia, you have an excess of dopamine,” he told me. And that was how I knew I wanted to work on his biography.
If you could give one advice to yourself when you were writing this book, what would it be?
Slow down to move faster, like the tortoise. Don’t be impatient, but spend more time getting it right.
