Journey of a Wannabe Docent ( Sep 2015 – Mar 2016 ) ( first posted on thebarefootfoodie.org on 18 Mar 2016 )
Journey of a Wannabe Docent ( Sep 2015 – Mar 2016 )
In The Beginning
By putting my mark on the dotted line, I did not think that signing up to be a trainee docent at the Singapore Art Museum ( SAM ) will be such a colourful, exhilarating, eventful roller coaster of a fun-ride to come…
Day 1 of registration saw all 36 of us trainees, of all nationalities; there was a grand total of 3 gentlemen, to add a touch of yang to the mostly female landscape.
And so it begins – riding the zombie infested train of the MRT almost every Tuesday and Thursday, jostling with the office crowd, to reach SAM before 9.15 am. Actually, 9.00 am but one gets 15 mins grace. There is also a requisite dress-code, and I get to change out of my regular arsenal of everyday gym clothes into that realm of untouched ensemble that fills out the rest of the wardrobe. Now I get to dress up and go somewhere.
The ladies at class are good to look at. They do preen up for the occasion. Half of the time, when I am not dozing off, my mind wanders to the likes of ” where did she get that gorgeous pair of earrings ” in the middle of a lecture by someone less interesting to look at.
I was assigned to the Green Group. There are 3 other colour groupings – Red, Blue, Yellow. The Greenies are, in the Greenies’ opinion, the most interesting. We talk about food, drinks, and more food. On day one, one of us started a group chat which took on a life of its own, often in the middle of lectures, with comments, emoticons, and the occasional shot of someone napping with a little drool running down the chin.
One of the highlights of the day is breaktime. Trainees are assigned in turn to bring a dish. It is a reprieve for the rumbling tummy which is starved for attention. Breakfast is a luxury usually denied when the focus is on catching up on a few more minutes of nap time and then the mad rush to beat the queue for the last available standing room on the MRT. There are good days when the spread is like the offings of an international buffet; and bad days when you get a paltry last minute ” buy whatever you see” kind of offings. But still, carbos abound, and that can give you a sugar boost when you need it. Oh, there is also the drinks dispenser at hand with 3-in-one coffee and lipton tea for the thirsty. Most will stride in before class holding a Starbucks or some other artisenal coffee clasped in elegant, manicured fingers.
One of the first lessons I learnt about contemporary art is that art is something you piss on. Marcel Duchamp, urinal, mutt , and a whole new array of vocabulary unfolds. It is also a window to a new way of seeing, usually not in the aesthetic sense, but it is art if someone dares to call it so, no matter how audacious!
Most of the speakers were well versed with the topics. They were drawn from the elitist art world of curators, conservators, senior docents, artists, and lecturers. I specially enjoyed meeting the artists face to face and hearing first hand how they conceptualized an art piece and the thought process that goes into it. It was an expected treat one day when one artist strode in casually more than 30 mins late, looking like he was still in his sleep clothes. He was witty, mostly coherent and altogether entertaining. But the best moment to come was when someone asked him to describe his art work and the man broke out in a spontaneous rap performance in poetic prose. Those who were there know who I’m talking about.
The other highlights were the visits to the artists’ studios, National Conservation Centre ( never knew we had such a treasure trove of art pieces ), Art Galleries at Gillman Barracks and the residencies at the Goodman Art Centre. The arts scene is well and alive and vibrant! So glad to be able to step in as an insider. Membership has its privileges.
That was the fun part. Here comes the not so fun part – the readings, research, assignments, gallery talks with assessors, and… the final Mentor Tour with an assigned mentor who decides whether you can cross over to the other side as a full fledged docent. I was coasting along fine until it came to the final leg, which became a rather harrowing experience.
On the big day, the trainee is to guide a regular tour with the mentor and at least two members of the public. I invited two friends whom I owe big time. At the last minute, there were 4 other secondary school girls who joined the tour, so I had a total of 7 in the audience, including the mentor. It started off badly. I could not sleep a wink the night before, and my throat felt dry and parched. After the first two introductory lines, I almost forgot my name and it was downhill from there. My two friends were cringing and the four school girls were sympathetic. Every time I glanced at my mentor I shrivelled even more. The hour felt like an eternity. If you can ever imagine what it’s like to have multiple moments of blackout, it feels better off being swallowed in a black hole and disappearing from the scene.
And so the tormented did crawl to the finishing line, barely.
Moving On..
The very next day, I was tasked to take on another public tour at the drop of a pin. Drawing a deep breath, I made myself taller, and set about to rewrite the entire script. I had a grand audience of one, a young lady from Shanghai. We both had fun and the hour passed in a wink. The nightmare is over and I wake up to a brand new start…
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