In and out of context

Craig Yu has taken the immediacy of photography and merged it with the artistry of old paintings to produce images that pose questions about our perception of the world. He tells P.Ramakrishnan how the meaning of anything can be changed by the way it is portrayed.



THEY LOOK LIKE blurred photographs, as if the cameraman forgot to focus before hitting click. The pictures are askew and their colours are inverted, appearing in strange hues of red, blue and black, almost monochromatic. I guess he forgot the flash as well.

But the 13 pieces on display at the Goethe Institut are all oil paintings on canvas. Craig Yu Yun-feng manipulates images from television and the internet to make a statement about context.

The 24-year-old artist photographs or downloads images, which, in the normal course of events, have been edited by media professionals before being shown. He then crops each picture and painstakingly recreates them on canvas. Some of his work is on display and for sale at the Arts Centre in Wan Chai.

"The general concept of my work is based around media influence, in and out of context - what happens to the meaning of everything when taken from its original context and put into a new one," says Yu.

The paintings have been sanded and thinned down to such a degree that there isn't any of the grainy oil-painting texture or clearly visible brush strokes to provide the aesthetic reassurance that what you see - such as the image of a soldier pointing a gun, ready to shoot - is just a picture.

"The images are from various documentaries, some of them taken from the Discovery channel, local stations in Hong Kong or the media in the US," says Yu. "I manipulate them in a way to make it more ambiguous. The imagery becomes more abstract when it gets on the canvas.

"In the painting Fire And Forget, the image was taken from a documentary on the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. I was interested in the way they focused a lot more on military technology and how to win their battles rather than focusing on the actual conflict and what happens to the people. The people didn't matter."

The same can be said of the artist when people become blurs, gossamer light visions, who almost completely disappear into the background. "You don't see people in the picture because that's not really my focus in general but more on how people perceive the image of people or things. That's why a lot of the time you can't make out exactly what they are."

His use of primary colours is very particular. "Red is to show infra-red, heat-seeking or heat-reflecting images," he explains. "Blue is used to show night vision, dark imagery. I'm not in a blue mood or anything like that, but want to show technology in an aesthetic way. The environment that you see and its various distortions is my focus."

Hence the title of the current exhibition, Milieu Perversions. A more disturbing heading than Yu's earlier solo exhibition, City Of Light, which was on display at Arts in China. Remnants of the earlier theme are visible perhaps only in the 1.2 square metre painting in the corner, entitled Neon Distraction. Again, it looks like a vision of Wan Chai seen through beer goggles.

"Neon Distraction is about too much information. Hong Kong is very advertisement-driven. How you subconsciously take it all in. You look at it and think, 'here's this advertisement that's coming at me and I can't get away from it'. Every square inch of town just seems sponsored by something," says Yu, who's lived here for more than a decade but is still bemused by it.

It's difficult to argue with Yu on the frenzy of local marketing. Take a trip through Causeway Bay and every building seems to be slapped with skyscraper-sized ads of beer, make-up, jewellery, colas, gym-membership, watches and fashion labels. Everything that you evidently need or couldn't possibly have enough of. "It's true of advertising anywhere and everywhere but when I'm in Hong Kong, I feel it's much more pressured. You lose perception of where you are," says Yu.

"Neon Distraction was a piece that I started before I did any of the other pieces. My earlier work was generally about Hong Kong while this current exhibition is thematically different. At the same time, it relates to this exhibition because it has to do with advertising which is essentially to do with perception of images." Isn't the politicised subtext going to be lost in Hong Kong? "It's such a financially driven place - how a war would affect the stock market or the economy," Yu says. "That's what the focus is on. But look at what happened on Tuesday [in the 500,000-strong protest against the proposed national security law]. For four straight hours from Causeway Bay to the Government offices I walked with thousands and thousands of people. I was completely surprised at the turnout. It was so impressive."

Then why not just post photographs of what is the most disturbing or manipulative and then enlarge, crop and frame? Why not show reality without the paint and subtext routines?

"I'm not just using the oil paint for the sake of it, because I like the aesthetic," Yu continues. "It goes well with the kind of imagery that I'm trying to show. Pictures taken from television or the internet are the most technologically advanced way of showing images. I'm then taking that completely out of context and going back into one of the most historic ways of showing imagery, which is oil painting."


Milieu Perversions runs until July 16 at Goethe Gallery, 14/F, Hong Kong Arts Centre, 2 Harbour Road, Wan Chai. Mon-Fri, 9am-9pm. Sat 2pm-6pm. Inquiries: 2829 9916.

24 hours: Joey Lee

The 28-year-old muay thai champion tells P.Ramakrishnan how she has never lost a fight and why kicking ass is the best way to stay in shape. Photo by David Wong. Hair and make-up Karen Yiu.


"Normally I get up at 6.30am and rush to Pure Fitness, as I have early morning clients and classes as a personal trainer. From about 7am until 10am I am booked up. In the past, though, there have been bankers who've wanted to train as early as 6am, which means I have to be up at 5am and sociable before the sun rises.

But, before I hit the gym, I eat a healthy breakfast - usually oatmeal with bananas or blueberries, or whatever's in the house. I cook for myself but I have a part-time maid who delivers lunch and dinner to the gym; she's fabulous, my lifesaver. For protein and vitamins, I stick to oatmeal and fresh fruit. Most of the time I'm on my feet, so I need the energy.

When I'm not in training, I indulge in French toast with chocolate and bananas, which my trainer [Pierre Ingrassia from The One Martial Gym] would not be happy to hear about. I have to maintain a weight range for fights and it can be a struggle to get it down.

I have a mix of men and women who train with me but, before noon, it's mostly women. They're not there to become professional kick-boxers or to compete against me in the ring; they just want to get into shape and it's the fastest way to shed kilos.

When I'm done with training others, I begin my own training and I usually go for a run around the beautiful waterfront, near the Star Ferry. Those little Nescafé cans keep me awake in the morning but the run will really kick me into gear.

For lunch my helper will source my low-carb menu.

I have chicken or stir-fried vegetables or grilled fish with vegetables. She even cuts up fresh fruit for me - like I said, I am spoiled.

During my breaks, if it's the right time, I will call my mum in Vancouver. I was born in Taiwan but brought up in Canada. When I was in school and college, I did sports - a lot of basketball - and I was always competitive. I tried muay thai for a lark. I really enjoyed it and, when I started winning matches, obviously I enjoyed it more.

Since I moved to Hong Kong in 2005, the two titles I've won have been the World Muay Thai Championship Asian women's champion and the South Pacific champion.

Even though my family's in Canada, Mum can watch the fight in Thailand, Macau or wherever [on YouTube] the next day but I report back by phone. My mother worries about me a lot but at the same time she wants all the details. I have to call her after every fight almost immediately otherwise I know she'll worry herself sick. She has come to just one of my matches but she couldn't watch someone kick the s**t out of me.

When I moved to Hong Kong, after studying, I didn't know what I wanted to do. As both my parents are originally from Hong Kong, I had residency here so I flew down to see what it was like. It's great; so many opportunities have come up. I got a job as a trainer at Pure quite quickly and Pierre saw a fight of mine somewhere, tracked me down and said he'd manage me.

I was fighting for a local gym, really underground stuff, like you would see in movies on cable TV. [Then I got] my first big fight, in Sydney. The first one was a draw - I've never lost a fight.

I've been fighting around Asia and Australia. My last fight was a big event in Macau, which I won. Fortunately, this time the media reported it correctly. Last year, I was in a fight in Macau and the Hong Kong papers misreported that I lost the fight.

I train almost every day in the afternoon at The One, which is a gym dedicated to muay thai and kick-boxing.

I really sweat it out. On Monday to Friday for about two hours I workout. On Saturday, my day off [from training others], it's about four hours. I spar with my trainer or there's a guy I train with. (There aren't many, if any, girls in Hong Kong who are at my level in muay thai so it's usually a man.) It's interesting to fight with a guy because they think it's going to be a little easier. When it turns out it's not, even if we're just training, they get a bit rough and end up hurting me and themselves. It's a pride thing, but I'm just there to train.

Kick-boxing is all about preparation and training. A fight usually lasts three to five rounds, two minutes each. I'm 'on stage' for about 15 minutes - it really is my 15 minutes of fame. Just for those few minutes I have to train for about six months. Even on my days off, I try to do some form of exercise: I run on Bowen Road or The Peak, or I play tennis. I've just started wakeboarding at Tai Tam. Most of my friends are pretty healthy and often they are my gym buddies or clients too.

Usually my training starts weeks, months before a fight and I go at it pretty hard. I start my diet and running and all that jazz. I can drop about 5.5kg in six weeks. Anyone can do that if they work at it. You don't have to train for eight hours a day. All you need to do is regular workouts and cut the crap: no sugar, no alcohol, easy on the carbs, drink plenty of water - all the clichés that are so obvious. If you have a goal - and usually a big fight will goad me into it - it's easier to achieve.

Currently, there's a big fight that I'm working towards: the world title. I was promised if I won the last fight, I could fight [American kick-boxing champion] Angela Rivera-Parr or one of the other top, well-known fighters in the world. There's an Australian girl who I'll be challenging for the world title in December at the Galaxy StarWorld Hotel in Macau, so, if I don't want to get the crap kicked out of me, I've got to start training for it now. It's a huge event, with about 2,000 to 3,000 people watching and millions more on TV. There's pyrotechnics, big music, the high rollers. Tickets to my last fight cost US$3,000 per table. I get paid a certain amount to take part but I don't do it for the money and I'm not just saying that. I'm doing it for the love of the sport.

Around 6pm, I'm back at Pure, as I have clients till about 9 or 10pm. By the end of the day, I am beat. I try to eat dinner in between seeing clients and I just gulp it down. I try to eat earlier in the evening as opposed to later. I live in a small apartment, not far from the gym and I cab it home. If work ends early, then I go out to eat with my friends. I don't drink at all. Not ever, not even champagne. But I really enjoy my food. I'm a total foodie and love to try different things and new restaurants. During the heat of training season, I have a bowl of Chinese soup for dinner then I get my eight hours' sleep.

There's a list of people I'd like to fight before I retire. Until then, you know where to find me. At the gym."

Publication Date: September 16, 2007
Post Magazine,
The South China Morning Post



See earlier feature Kick the Girls and Make them Cry

Master Class

Battle-hardened opera star Lin Weilin is flying the flag for the ancient military dance art of kunqu. P.Ramakrishnan watches him on the front lines.

WITHOUT THE ELABORATE costumes, layers of makeup and artificial beards that stretch to his belly, Lin Weilin may not be as impressive a sight as he is on stage, but he still has a commanding presence.

With a room full of aspiring artists watching his every move, the kunqu opera master displays military actions in dance - through the story of a hero fighting in a battle - and it is a demonstration that leaves them speechless.

But not for long. Lin, director of the Zhejiang Kunqu Opera Troupe, soon puts them through their paces, issuing orders for manoeuvres involving horsewhips, and holding stretches until muscles ache. The Kwai Tsing Theatre, where these budding stars are in the middle of a two-day workshop under Lin's guidance, fills with gasps and groans.

Lin says he hopes the same auditorium will soon be filled with the sighs of an appreciative audience, when he performs such classic sketches as Lu Bu Taming the Horse and The Singing Coach. But he is a realist and says most forms of Chinese opera - even kunqu with its spectacular martial arts routines - are suffering from an image problem among the young.

"Currently, most of our audience is elderly. We need to build up our audience base with time," says Lin, emphasising the need for interaction in the seminars he's done over the years before and after shows and during workshops and university visits.

"Zhejiang Kunqu Opera Troupe tries very hard to bring the art form to campuses," he says. "We hold seminars and demonstrations at Zhejiang University regularly, which also provide opportunities for kunqu beginners to practise and experience the art form. There are some stories of kunqu opera that can be enjoyable to kids even at the age of six, such as The Singing Coach from The Story of the Embroidered Tunic [to be staged in March]," he says.

Lin belongs to the xiu, or fourth, generation of the troupe and is best known as a wusheng (performer of military roles).

As he takes up arms to fight in close combat, with lightning hand and legwork and powerful thrusts of stage weapons, Lin shows the nimbleness that won him the "No.1 Footwork in Jiangnan" title. In 2002, Lin topped the National Kunqu Accreditation Showcase and won the award for promoting the art, jointly presented by Unesco and the Ministry of Culture of China.

Yet, like opera everywhere, kunqu has a niche audience - an older generation patronising a fading art. "It is well-received and being very much appreciated among cultural people," he says. "It is enjoyed by sophisticated audiences. Although it is not widely accepted by the masses, kunqu opera is considered a very important element of Chinese culture."

Lin's stress on sophistication is not coincidental. Kunqu opera was founded before the Ming dynasty (1368-1644) in Kun Shan, Zhejiang province, and has a longer history than Beijing opera. It was performed exclusively for royal or wealthy families, and a literary and lyrical emphasis surpassed military style performances. It also developed into a more gentle musical experience than other styles of opera, such as Cantonese.

Despite fears that globalisation could harm traditional pursuits, Lin says the modernisation he has seen during his 40 years of performance has helped the art form. "China is undergoing rapid economic growth. But people are even more attached to the importance of cultural life, which will be an advantage to the further development of kunqu opera," he says.

Even without the overstated eye makeup, Lin's expressions are sharp and stately and his presence is impossible to ignore. He exudes the energy and strength of a man who has followed a strict martial arts and theatrical training programme all his life.

"I live in exercise," he says. "Performing a military role on stage, I need to practise every day to keep in the best shape. Of course, this is very important to my health also. Artists need to have nice voices as well. To bring to our audience a good show, we need to have our voices and body movements perfectly matched. Usually, kunqu opera artists look younger than their ages. That's why I believe that to learn and perform kunqu opera can be a kind of fitness training."

What does he hope for from the students when they attend the workshop? "They will enjoy it I believe, and ... well, bring your own horsewhip."


Lin Weilin and the Zhejiang Kunqu Opera Troupe will perform at the Two Virtuosi in Chinese Opera concert with local star Lee Lung and the Lung Fei Cantonese Opera Troupe on March 25-28, 7.30pm, Kwai Tsing Theatre, Auditorium. Tickets: $100, $220, $300 Urbtix. With Chinese and simplified English surtitles. The Martial Art Routines in Kunqu Opera Workshop (in Putonghua) will be held tomorrow and Sunday, 3pm-5.30pm; and Mon and Tue, 7.30pm-10pm, at the Kwai Tsing Theatre Gallery. Inquiries: 2268 7323

24 hours: Shobhaa De

The 59-year-old workaholic has written 15 novels, pens newspaper columns and Indian soap operas, and has her own fashion label. She tells P.Ramakrishnan why she has no time for writer's block.

"My day is frenzied, frantic, lunatic and s-t-r-e-t-c-h-e-d. I am not a lark and refuse to get up at dawn. My mornings start slowly and only after my first cuppa (preferably Darjeeling). I have no beauty regime or state secret to defy age, other than cleanliness. I've never been to the gym. I don't jog (although in my college days I was sporty). I have a 15-minute stretch routine that I've been doing since my school days and that's all.

I have a fortunate life with help - drivers, cooks and so on. My staff have been with me for years so they know just how hot I like my morning tea. I don't cook but I am a great cook - even if I say so myself. I don't follow recipes but go by instinct, flavours and aromas. I haven't made anything for years and my life would be at a standstill if we didn't have the helpers. I have 20 professional balls up in the air at any given moment. Whenever I am asked how I manage to do it all - the secret of my success - I always say: 'Behind every successful man is a woman and behind every successful woman, there's another woman.' In this case, it's my helper.

I read about eight newspapers in an obsessive-compulsive way, soak up everything, every morning, religiously. Two of the youngest kids are still in the house (the other four are adults and managing their lives and careers in Dubai, Malaysia and around India) but they're old enough to take care of themselves. My youngest is finishing school and preparing for university. I don't kiss them goodbye every morning because I don't subscribe to clichés. For the love of having my children around safe and sound, I don't drop them off at school - because I've no aptitude for driving and have crashed too many expensive cars. My children go in school buses, like others.

There's a large, antique circular dining table in the middle of the house where I sit and work like a demon. It's a huge mess of papers, magazines, articles I've cut out, ideas penned, notepads, stationery. You can't find the table under all the papers and [my family] threaten to bin it all. My mess and I bond. I know exactly where everything is and it frustrates my family no end. Fortunately, they all leave the house in the morning and I can sit uninterrupted.

I hardly break for lunch, it's my peak productive zone.

I get a lot of work done in a non-stop, focused way from about 10.30am to 2.30pm. I don't believe in writer's block. It's a lazy excuse and people just have to get up and get on with it.

I wrote each of my novels by hand but my articles were typed up - until about six months ago [when], in a state of panic, I caught up with technology out of necessity. I used to hand-write my columns too and fax them at noon. One of my daughters would type it up and send it off to the editors. With all the girls getting out of the house, I have taken a quantum leap into e-mail and computers - which I hate. I miss my penmanship. I hope to die with a cheap ballpoint pen at hand - cheap because I've lost too many pens, including a beautiful Dupont in Hong Kong recently.

I have never approached a paper or magazine for work. I say it not with arrogance but with pride that people have been interested in my opinion. Apart from the four regular gigs [for Indian newspapers and magazines], I also write guest columns for various publications. I treat my day like chewing gum - stretch it and stretch it till it's 36 hours long.

I have meetings and brainstorming sessions all afternoon: there are the two TV shows scripted by me on air, the fashion line, another book in the works, a new TV project, film ideas. I never leave the house. Mumbai traffic is hideous. I always ask people to come to my home in Cuff Parade. If someone really wants to meet me then they can sit in traffic for two hours, otherwise it's not worth their trouble or mine.

Fortunately, as a freelance writer, I can travel the world. I have a stock of features banked up in advance. I've been a journalist for nearly 40 years and I've never missed a deadline. And filing from my travels is just not done. It's too hectic. Like the time I was last in Hong Kong four, five years ago for the literary festival: there was this mad dash, trying to find a fax and send a feature across to The Times of India - I hated that chaos.

This weekend, I'm off to Italy to promote the third book being released there. My writings are translated and published around the world and my columns are syndicated in various languages around India.

My late afternoons are even more frazzled. The children are back, we take a lassi or coffee break over hot, buttered toast and even hotter gossip. That's my big indulgence for the day. We enjoy those light-hearted moments.

I love being with my children. I'm so happy they are such complex, interesting, amusing people. I'd rather hang with them - don't ask me if the reverse is true - than any socialite or celebrity. And they are my harshest critics. When Elle magazine listed me as one of the most fashionable women in India, my daughter laughed and reeled in horror, 'This gypsy look is in?' she asked. They don't understand it and roll their eyes.

I await the arrival of Mr De about 6.30pm. I put my pen down, shut down - or try to - and watch him at his elaborate tea ritual. Early evenings at home are also spent chatting with the children, discussing their work, emotional tangles and other anxieties.

Contrary to the [Indian society column] Page 3 myth, I don't attend every event - but I get photographed at the ones I do. We stay at home six nights of the week and accept just one invitation, if that, preferably on a Saturday night. We are making an exception to this rule as there's a dinner with Indian Finance Minister Palaniappan Chidambaram. He's an amazing mind, a very engaging conversationalist and for exceptional people, we make exceptions.

My big treat, normally on Friday or Saturday evenings, is watching a Hindi film at the nearest multiplex. I recommend a Hindi movie to anyone looking for an instant stress buster.

We eat a late-ish dinner, about 10pm. I read till 2am and keep the light on, much to my husband's grievance. We've been married for so long but even now, when he reads with me, he chats and it drives me up the wall.

My work is not about reporting. It's about observation and I'm acutely alive to change. I'm excited by newness. There is always far more material than columns and books and that's a good place to be in. The source of inspiration has not turned dry. I've never run out of ideas. My work speaks for itself. Every book is a best-seller and no critic or other author has been able to stop it from being a success."

Photo, courtesy of Gautam Rajadhyaksha


Also see: Brand it like Mumbai.

My First Society Column: South China Morning Post: TBT 2003

Give 'em Noel

THE GATES OF the dynastic Harilela mansion in Kowloon Tong swung open for the clan's annual by-invitation-only pre-Christmas bash. About 200 guests mingled in the Mughul room, function room and Japanese garden while indulging in a feast prepared by chefs from Gaylord and Loong Yuen restaurants - co-owned by the Harilela group - the family's huge in-house kitchens.

Prominent faces among the well-heeled revelers were Kim Robinson - lord of folly an follicles - who was seen canoodling with Chanel's Mabel Au-Yeung. Cable TV's Sharon Cheung, one of Hong Kong's most recognisable and glamorous reporters, challenged the imperial decree of the colour-themed invitation (men in black, women in red) by stepping out in a black evening dress festooned with pink flora.


Another non-conforming invitee was Kam Kwok-leung,who appeared in a metallic, cleavage-baring, lace-brocaded navy blue creation - desperately trying to preserve his Best Dressed Hong Kong Personality 2002 reputation.


Perveen Crawford detached herself from sister Nasreen Ting long enough to pose with David Harilela (who did a funky jig on the dance floor later) and Bobby Oberio. Harry Hiranand enjoyed being sandwiched by the ladies in red - even if it was just for a picture.



My first ever column and blurb, back in the day at SCMP.
Monday January 13, 2003

Gone to Waist

Men aiming for that elusive six-pack stand a fat chance of success on a dodgy diet, writes P.Ramakrishnan. Photos by Hyvis Tong.

You've sen him - the middle-aged man at the gym in a muscle t-shirt with flabby arms and even flabbier belly, his sweaty arms flailing around as he groans to do another sit-up.

Robert Wang, 42, has been battling the bulge since he hit 40. "When I was younger, it was as if I had hollow legs - everything I ate would go straight through me," says the engineer. "But now it seems that I've developed a tummy that I can't get rid of. I've tried everything to trim down. I've watched my diet - at one stage I was just eating soup. And I've exercised at the gym. But nothing has really made a dent."

"Men ask: 'Is my stomach flat enough?', 'Am I fit enough?', 'A I good enough," says psychologist Lesley Lewis, from Culture3Counsel.

Harrison Pope, co-author of The Adonis Complex and a Harvard Medical School psychology professor, says females aren't the only ones who suffer from eating disorders and an obsession with their appearance. Males, especially teenagers, are increasingly "tying their self-worth to their \body image", says Pope. "They're obsessed with their bodies." Advertising and celebrities have raised unrealistic expectations.


Personal trainer Muk Venkatraman at Physical Harmony Personal Training, says no only do men want a flat stomach, they want instant results. He constantly sees men in the gym struggling in vain to rid themselves of a sagging gut. "I see people doing crunches and sit-ups, thinking that their huge tyre around the waist is going to get smaller, but that six-pack won't show on anyone who has a high body-fat percentage."

Excess body fat from the Hong Kong diet and a sedentary lifestyle is contributing to ballooning waistlines. "We have a rich carbohydrate saturated diet - the rice and noodles," says MSL Nutritional Diet Centre dietitian Joanne Chan Yuk-yi. "But I also find loads of people have a high protein intake too - an unhealthy balance of it, which is increasing the fat around the stomach. My clients say to me: 'It's the rice that makes my stomach bloat, or the noodles.' But it's not just the rice. It's the sauce, how you cook the meat, the deep-fried food, the cream-based sauces. The small bowl of rice that most people have at lunch is not the main culprit."

So what should you eat to get your stomach from fat to fit?

"Smaller portions," says Chan. "Eating until your belly's completely full is an archaic notion. Fruits and vegetables, high-grain foods are great as they help your bowel movements expel toxins from the body. Drink eight glasses of water a day - with the high fibre intake, you'll need the water to move it out."

And tonic water doesn't count. "A lot of people in Hong Kong drink too much alcohol," says Venkatraman. "Not only are they poisoning their body, but they're adding empty calories."

Chan agrees. "Our liver metabolises alcohol and excess alcohol turns into fat, easily deposited in the stomach area - and that's any kind of alcohol."

Venkatraman says beer bellies are made when your calorie consumption exceeds the exercise you do. "What it all comes down to is calories in versus calories out," says Venkatraman. "Do you eat more than your body burns? If the answer is yes, then you'll gain weight."

Forty per cent of Hongkongers have waistlines that exceed the recommended standard, according to a patient study. That makes the proportion of Hongkongers with outsized waistlines the same as that for North Americans. The standard average waistline suggested for local men in Hong Kong is 89cm, while for women, it's 80cm, according to the International Diabetes Federation. Their 2005 study, called the 'Idea' - International Day for the Evaluation of Abdominal Obesity - is a global survey involving about 180,000 patients from 63 countries. It aimed to find the prevalence of abdominal obesity and its relationship to the risk of chronic diseases. It was the first time Hong Kong had taken part in the survey.

Just as worrying is that the Chinese have a genetic tendency to accumulate fat in the inner abdomen, which increases the likelihood of heart disease, diabetes and other illnesses related to obesity. This recent Canadian study examined 822 healthy individuals. Doing sit-ups, for example, is unlikely to help someone lose harmful inner abdominal fat exclusively, says Gwen Chapman, a professor of nutritional sciences at the University of British Columbia. "That's more likely to affect the muscles, and so you might have more muscle tone in your stomach," she says.

Specialist men's slimming clinic Mence says a growing number of its clients sign on wanting to build a six-pack. "In Hong Kong, most businessmen don't have the time to spend hours in the gym, so we provide services to target their problem areas - especially around their stomach," says spokesman Ronald Kwok Ka-lok. "They can relax and sometimes go to sleep while the machines do the work. There's an infra-red treatment, ulra-sound treatment, a lymphatic treatment and many others."

Although there's no such thing as a quick fix, Venkatraman says one way to appear instantly slimmer is to improve your posture. "The better your posture, the more calories you'll burn. Slouching is what the body does to save energy, If your body is upright with good posture, then technically you're burning more calories."

Venkatraman also says it's important to keep moving. "Stop taking the elevator and take the stairs instead. Don't jump in a taxi, use the MTR and save the environment and yourself."


Tone that tummy with core control
Sit at your desk in an upright, tall position. Pull your stomach in for five to 10 seconds and release. then do this about 20 times or more if you can. It's called the 'drawing in manoeuvre".

According to the National Academy of Sports Medicine, this action will directly influence the deep stabilisers in your core. In particular the transversus abdominis also known as the TVA.

"This is the muscle that keeps your body stable. Without this, we would collapse like a ton of bricks." says personal trainer Muk Venkatraman.


CONTACTS:

Leslie Lewis at http://www.culture3counsel.com/
MSL Nutritional Diet Centre
Muk Venkatraman at www.elitefitnesshk.com

A Patten Developing: An Exclusive Interview with Alice Patten for South China Morning Post

The last governor’s youngest girl is a hit in Bollywood. She tells P.Ramakrishnan of her struggles with Hindi and dancing.

FOR HER FIRST three days in India, her thoughts were mostly variations on: “What have I got myself into?” But Alice Patten quickly found her feet, which was fortunate, since her film project stretched to almost eight months.

Making her debut in a Bollywood production, Patten took a while to get used to working in India. “But then I had so much fun,” she says. “It was such an enriching experience and I had such a great time, it was all worth it.”

Rang de Basanti (Paint it Yellow) proved rewarding. The movie set box office records in India and elsewhere when it opened late last month: the soundtrack, composed by A.R.Rahman, is still topping Indian charts. And the movie has garnered praise for its director Rakesh Omprakash Mehra and stars, including Aamir Khan, Siddharth, Soha Ali Khan and Patten. The DVD will be released in Hong Kong this week.

The youngest of the last Hong Kong governor Chris Patten’s three daughters, the 26-year-old had set her sights on become an actress when she was at Island School. She has made a promising start. Her debut, two years ago, in a play at the Royal National Theatre has been followed by a variety of television and stage roles.

Bollywood, however, was never on the radar, until her agent sent her a script from Mumbai, translated from the Hindi original. The project would give her the chance to work with Khan, a Bollywood idol. But the deciding factor for her was signing on to Rang de Basanti was the script.

“In fact, the key factor,” says Patten. “The story was great. I think it’s an important story to be told, rather political and the character I was offered was strong, so it was just nice to be a part of something like that. The madness of going to India was exciting and terrifying. Who wouldn’t want to do it?”

A film within a film, Rang de Basanti weves issues of the nation struggling for independence with those of contemporary India. A British director (Patten) decides to make a docu-drama based on the memoirs of her grandfather, a former police officer in colonial India caught in a clash with some freedom fighters he admires.

She goes to Delhi and hires five graduates led by DJ (Khan) to play the revolutionaries. Materialistic and self-centred, the friends find little to relate to in the movie about courage, sacrifice and patriotic pride. But, as the project progresses, the youths understand the spirit of the 1930s patriots and change their perspectives on life.

Patten’s most politically charged role so far, it hasn’t stirred any notions of eventually following her father into politics. “I think it’s important to be politically aware, but I’m not politically active or inclined,” she says. “The acting bug’s got me for now.”

Patten reckons she was lucky to be cast for the role. “I couldn’t believe I had it in my hand to play one of the main characters in such a layered, rich film,” she says.

The cast spent a month in rehearsals, but Patten spent an extra month learning Hindi. Although she graduated from Cambridge with a degree in modern languages, the actress says she barely picked up the rudiments of Hindi.

"I had a tutor, but it’s only my own dialogue that I know,” she says. “If anyone asked me anything in Hindi now, all I’d be able to say is ‘haan' [yes], ‘naahi’ [no] and ‘shukriya’ [thank you]!”

Her parents supported the project form the start Patten says.

“Yes, I have been the baby of the family, but when I discussed going to India, they were very encouraging, Mum and Dad have been to India often and loved it, and said I should do it for the experience.”

And unlike some visitors to India, Patten had no problems with the food. “The rule is to eat everything, drink everything and you’ll be fine,” she says.

The first day of filming – at the Golden Temple in Amritsar – gave Patten a taste of Bollywood mania. “The location was stunning, with the sight of the gold domes at dawn,” she says. “To top it all, there were hundreds of thousands of people watching, in addition to our massive crew. Many go to pray there as it is, but when they heard Aamir Khan was on location, it was just insane.”

The reaction of the fans was extraordinary Patten says. “I’ve never seen that level of excitement, and everyone was all over Aamir,” she says. “In London, people pretend to not recognise actors when they see them. They fake a snobbish attitude while they’re secretly taking pictures with their camera phones. In India, it was all very honest.”

The film’s content obviates any need for the usual Bollywood song-and-dance routines.

“It’s not in the traditional format of a usual Indian movie,” Patten says. “All the songs are in the background and we don’t suddenly break into a jig.”

Even so, Rang included a dance sequence that Patten describes as “tragic”. "It was a struggle to keep up with the choreography, she says. “It was astounding how bad I was,” Patten says. “Thankfully, I only had to do that for about three days.”

There was no chance of turning out in exotic costumes since the movie had a contemporary setting. But she made up for it with purchases from around the country as the crew moved to different locations. “I did go berserk shopping. Bought lovely things from Jaipur,” she says. “Mum came along to visit during the shoot while dad was away promoting his book, and we had a great time.”

Patten is now playing Ophelia in an English Touring Theatre production of Hamlet in the West End. It’ll be a while before she considers another Hindi movie. (“There aren’t that many roles for English girls; well not good ones.”)

But the possibility of kicking butt in Hong Kong puts a gleam in the actress’ eye.

“Oh, I’d love to do a cool action flick in Hong Kong,” Patten says.

Despite being under constant media scrutiny, Patten says she has great memories of the city. “I have lost all knowledge of any Cantonese, but I remember some of the swear words,” she says. “Always handy.”

Easy on the Ears: Singer Peter Cincotti, Zegna model and musician

Move over Norah Jones and Michael Buble, the world of polite jazz has a fresh face. P.Ramakrishnan meets the talented Mr Cincotti. Photo by Dickson Lee. Other images courtesy of Zegna and Peter Cincotti.




AS HIS FINGERS slide over the keys, Peter Cincotti furrows his brow in deep concentration, eyes firmly shut, biting his bottom lip. It's a musical duel and duet between the pianist and his drummer as they improvise on an original composition.


Off stage, Cincotti's an affable chap with an easy smile, and why wouldn't he be? Ermenegildo Zegna is keeping him in stitches. The Italian garment giant chose him to be one of its poster boys, and as far as Cincotti's concerned they've hit all the right notes with him.

"I wouldn't have had this opportunity to showcase my music to this variety of audience had it not been for Zegna," he says, in Zegna's store in Tsim Sha Tsui. "It's like I've been taken into this warm family and because of them, I've had the opportunity to play in Shanghai, in Hong Kong and Singapore [the next stop]. This is my first trip to China, my first time in Hong Kong, and I'm overwhelmed by the reaction of the audience."

It isn't just the invitation-only VIPs cramming the performances around Asia and Europe who have gladly picked up his albums. Most critics who've heard his second album, On the Moon - peppered with tunes and lyrics he wrote - have alluded to the wunderkind's prodigious talent.

He's 22-years old, has been performing since he was 12, opened for Ray Charles ("my hero and one of my all-time favourite performers"), studied with jazz masters David Finck and James Williams, starred on stage in the off-Broadway hit Our Sinatra and performed at the White House for President George W Bush. At 20, he was the youngest solo artist to reach the top spot on Billboard's traditional jazz chart. Last year, he appeared alongside Kevin Spacey in the Bobby Darin story Beyond the Sea.

Cincotti's roster of achievements would be music to the ears of any parent who shuttles their children into after-school piano lessons. "I was never pushed into playing the piano," he says. "I was three years old when I stared and it was an innate interest. I'm so glad my parents allowed me this creative freedom. if I practise everyday wherever I am, it's because I want to, not because I'm forced to."



In 2003, he released his self-titled debut, which led to an invitation to perform on Britain's Michael Parkinson Show. "Someone from Zegna was int eh audience and liked it and I was asked whether I'd like to represent their line of clothing for the next year. I said I'd be happy to. I love their clothes, and their visibility in New York is high, so it was a pleasure to do that. As far as I'm concerned, there are only pros, no cons, to this deal. I mean, I'm no model and I'm not out there to walk down the catwalk with the professionals, but the company has always chosen an atypical person to front their clothes. Adrien Brody was chosen right before he won the Oscar. Alberto Gilardino went on to win medals at the Olympics and do brilliantly at the European football championships. I'm here because of my music and I'm in great company."

Is a Grammy the next inevitable step? Already reviewers have him bracketed with Norah Jones and Michael Buble on the jazz-tinged side of popular music. Unlike the disposable pap that dominates the charts and the warbling of American Idol contestants, Cincotti can actually play an instrument and hist a note without synthetic modulation. He also composes and writes lyrics. He strikes a chord "with two hands and a voice steeped in emotion", as one reviewer put it.


"I know I don't sound like Norah Jones or Michael [Buble]. They're great artists in their own right. I don't worry about comparisons, nor do I get carried away with it. I'm just out there playing my music."

Cincotti had no idea what to expect from his first visit to Asia. "There's nothing like the dynamic of a live performance. I don't see myself as a jazz musician only. I like all kinds of music and am influenced by everything. I didn't get to see a lot of China and I'm so glad I get a day off in Hong Kong to get a feel for the city. All this can only influence my music."

The acting gig was a happy coincidence and took him into uncharted territory. The Spacey-directed biopic was panned, but the soundtrack garnered favourable reviews. Cincotti played Dick Behrke, a role similar to the one had in Spider-Man 2 as "Uncredited Piano Player in Planetarium".

"Working on the films gave me time to work on my latest album. Touring is different, you're always busy: working on the concerts, travelling to different locations. So, there's no time to do anything but perform. While working on Beyond the Sea, I was in one location for three months and, in between shots, I had a lot of free time, which is how I got to write some of the tracks from On the Moon. It was a great learning experience, too."

Where to next? "It's all about the music," he says. "It's not about recreating one genre again and again. My first record was classified in the jazz category, but it was primarily a trio record. I wanted to do jazz standards as well as songs by Blood, Sweat & Tears, which was next to Rainbow Connection and the theme from The Godfather and then I combined Nat King Cole with The Beatles. I'm interested in creating hybrids of music. The last thing I wan to do is sing a song the same way it's been done by hundreds of people. The artists I admire most are the ones that have constantly evolved. You take their first album and their last and it's completely different, and it's still great."



On the Moon is out now.

Coup d'art: Indian Artists are having a Renaissance

India’s artists are enjoying a surge of interest from galleries and collectors. P.Ramakrishnan does some canvassing.



A FISHING BOAT sails into a canvas sliced with red and white hues, drifting away from a branch studded with rouged flora and fauna. The caption reads, “Spring, China”, and the minimalist starkness suggests that the watercolour is from Shanghai. But it’s not. It’s a Paresh Maity original.

Next, a Buddha stands in repose, his arms folded across his chest as a shower of lotus petals dot the air. Perhaps it’s by celebrated Thai artist Sudjai Chaiyapan? Wrong again. It’s a Charan Sharma acrylic.

Indian artists, long lumped together with other Southeast Asians, are slowly emerging onto the contemporary scene, with growing recognition and solid sales.

The genre has risen from middling two-figure deals just five years ago to US$100 million worth of works sold by global auction houses Christie’s, Sotheby’s and Saffron last year.

“The significant trend is the globally buoyant demand for contemporary Indian art,” says Neelanjan Shome, co-owner of Reflections gallery in Hong Kong, which specializes in Indian art. “While the market was estimated at about US$5 million in 1995, today it’s estimated to be about US$180 million.

“Individual works are also following this pattern of increasing valuation. Tyeb Mehta’s Celebration held the record of US317,000 since 2002 – only to be smashed by his Mahisasura, at a whopping US1.6 million in September last year. There appears to be a critical mass with enough disposable income to sustain these prices. It’s not a case of a handful of collectors driving the market.”

Maity, a major contemporary Indian artist, agrees. He has noticed a recent surge of interest not only in his own work but in Indian art, generally. “In the past two or three years, Indian art has suddenly become very big – become global in a big way,” says Maity, who will be in Hong kong this week to promote a book featuring paintings from his private collection. His paintings fetch US$17,500, on average. “It wasn’t recognised before in the word arena because people weren’t looking at it,” he says. “We have a huge tradition of art and culture, but there was no proper recognition outside India.

“I just had my 46th solo exhibition worldwide. For many years my work has been presented and sold in England, America, Germany Franc and the Middle East. I didn’t think I had any Chinese collectors, but last year, in Singapore, I met a few people who had six to eight pieces of my work.

“One of them flew to Mumbai to pick up a piece when an exhibition was sold out. Now, I’ve been invited to showcase my work in Hong Kong and I’m very much looking forward to it.”

Charan Sharma, who is represented by Reflections, holds similar views. “We auction a few times a year in London and New York – Indian art is thriving and is in great demand. The reactions are very positive. I’m always surprised by the amount of knowledge that interested people – buyers, as well as viewers – have about the art scene today. Apart from Indians living abroad, the British, Australians and Americans are my regular collectors.”

According to Shome, about 20 per cent of all contemporary Indian art sold globally goes to non-Indians. This may be because the profile of Indian art has grown recently, with major exhibitions at the Asia Society and the Grey Art Gallery in New York and the Tate in London.

But Indian art is also seen as an affordable investment. A Ganesh Haloi, for instance, sells for between US$3,200 and US$5,000 – in sharp contrast to a lot of western art. The average price at the Christie’s autumn 1999 auction for contemporary American art, for example, was more than US$400,000.

“Last but not least, this has also been a function of a vibrant art scene,” Shome says. “The contemporary Indian art scene has witnessed a real revolution in the past 15 years.”

Maity says the innate Indian-ness draws people to his work. “When I went to China a few years ago, I was very influenced by the watercolours. In Venice and France, I saw and loved Picasso’s work and the way landscapes were done.


“But what I’ve found from collectors of my work is the positive-ness, the brightness, the colours, the centrally Indian themed paintings – the happiness in it is what they were picking up. I’m greatly influenced by folk art – miniature art that’s unique to our people – and that’s reflected in my work.

“I was so happy that in London last year my work was being shown in the same gallery as Picasso’s. Once, a few years back, my work was being shown with an international gallery of artists and people were picking up my work – when the buyers came in with no preconceived notions of what Indian art is or should be. When they’re buying it for simply what they see, that made me very happy."

Art critics from around the world are readjusting their views in light of the Indian invasion of precious wall space at Tate, Grey Art Gallery and the like.

According to Yamini Mehta, head specialist of Christie’s Modern and Contemporary Indian Art, the genre’s popularity has been growing steadily over the past decade.

“In the past, there was a nostalgic factor and nationalistic factor in that many of the collectors were non-resident Indians who were keen to collect and support artists who share their heritage,” she says.

“The growth of the Indian economy as also translated into the art world with much new wealth in the region. The relaxation of controls on foreign exchange and lowering of customs duties has made it easier for clients from India to participate in Christie’s auctions.”

Mehta says the demand for top Indian art is greater than the supply, and successive auctions have attracted more and more keen buyers at all levels.

“India and its diaspora comprise a population that is one billion strong, yet very little of the art is known to mainstream contemporary collections and institutions,” she says.

“This is changing, Indian art is being more exposed in the west. More international curators are coming to India and are taking note of the scene.”

Shome’s advice? “Use your heart to determine whether a particular piece of work will bring joy to you every day for years to come.”



Indian art exhition, featuring Paresh Maity, Vaikuntam, Jayshree Burman, Yusuf Arakkai and Laxma Goud
Mar 2-5,
Hong Kong Visual Arts Centre,
Kennedy Road.