the significance of names
Two days ago three assistant professors were waiting for bus number 160 at a bus-stop in Holland Village. Holland V, as it is affectionately partially acronymned by islanders, is a locale that belies its name by being situated nowhere close to the Netherlands and bears no resemblance to the pastoral nostalgic construct of a village in Europe. There are no thatched cottages and cattle here.
Still, the name does fit the job the place has been given in recent years: as a hangout for the workers in a hub of economically lucrative creativity, the kind of globalized synergistic cosmopolitan lifestyle hub that will prove an enticing playground for the mainly non-native IT and biotechnology labour elite who are imagined as playing a vital role in the current mission of making the island creative.
Two years ago it was widely reported when a political master exhorted Holland V for being hip and bohemian. (Digression: it is more accurate to say "the political master" but the charge of authoritarianism that peeks from the definite article is too much for a small blog to bear.) Bohemian only makes one of the assistant professors think of crystal blown in an industrial town of the former Czechoslovakia, another name buried in history, a name with no bearing on the present reality.
The assistant professors were talking about the Singapore Biennale and the campaign to educate non-Italian-speaking islanders in the correct pronunciation of the word ("say bian-nah-ley").
"Biennale means biennial, right?", said one of the assistant professors in his booming voice, towering over the other two like an Ent from Tolkien's epic. "So why not call it that? Biennial is easier to say too."
"Because there is an embedded reference to the Venice Biennale," proffered his colleague who prides herself on being-in-the-know about such things.
"Why Venice? Why Italian? I think it's got something to do with wanting to have our own Renaissance," quipped the third assistant professor, known for combining wit, mathematics, and devilry in his pedagogical philosophy.
There was a moment's silence as all three assistant professors took this in, each in his or her own way. Finally, the assistant professor who takes pride in knowing certain kinds of things says, "Renaissance? Ha! We need the Medici family for that to happen."
"Does it have to be Italian? Would a Chinese surname do?", posed the diabolical pedagogue.
"Biennale means biennial so I don't see why we can't just call it that," said the tall Ent-like assistant professor.
Bus number 160 arrived at the bus-stop. The assistant professors boarded it and were on their way to Orchard Road, a street on a part of the island that used to be covered by sprawling nutmeg and clove orchards.
Still, the name does fit the job the place has been given in recent years: as a hangout for the workers in a hub of economically lucrative creativity, the kind of globalized synergistic cosmopolitan lifestyle hub that will prove an enticing playground for the mainly non-native IT and biotechnology labour elite who are imagined as playing a vital role in the current mission of making the island creative.
Two years ago it was widely reported when a political master exhorted Holland V for being hip and bohemian. (Digression: it is more accurate to say "the political master" but the charge of authoritarianism that peeks from the definite article is too much for a small blog to bear.) Bohemian only makes one of the assistant professors think of crystal blown in an industrial town of the former Czechoslovakia, another name buried in history, a name with no bearing on the present reality.
The assistant professors were talking about the Singapore Biennale and the campaign to educate non-Italian-speaking islanders in the correct pronunciation of the word ("say bian-nah-ley").
"Biennale means biennial, right?", said one of the assistant professors in his booming voice, towering over the other two like an Ent from Tolkien's epic. "So why not call it that? Biennial is easier to say too."
"Because there is an embedded reference to the Venice Biennale," proffered his colleague who prides herself on being-in-the-know about such things.
"Why Venice? Why Italian? I think it's got something to do with wanting to have our own Renaissance," quipped the third assistant professor, known for combining wit, mathematics, and devilry in his pedagogical philosophy.
There was a moment's silence as all three assistant professors took this in, each in his or her own way. Finally, the assistant professor who takes pride in knowing certain kinds of things says, "Renaissance? Ha! We need the Medici family for that to happen."
"Does it have to be Italian? Would a Chinese surname do?", posed the diabolical pedagogue.
"Biennale means biennial so I don't see why we can't just call it that," said the tall Ent-like assistant professor.
Bus number 160 arrived at the bus-stop. The assistant professors boarded it and were on their way to Orchard Road, a street on a part of the island that used to be covered by sprawling nutmeg and clove orchards.
Labels: Singapore
posted by wheyface at 11:47 AM
3 Comments:
Dear 3 Asst Profs
There's a difference. Let me explain. Biennial simply means once in two years. It can apply to anything - sports, medical, exams, pay raise and of course art.
Biennale, on the other hand, specifically refers to a multi-genre exhibition of contemporary art held once every 2 years.
Besides Singapore, there's a Biennale in Sydney, Gwangju, Moscow, Montreal and a host of other cities. HA!!
I feel I have been censored.
I recall that my wittiest moment was in noting how, when pressed onto a Hokkien unconscious, Biennale would conjure a triple half-rhyme in a word that may not be articulated even here, but has the 3 consonants of n*n*b*.
Would it have the same effect on an Australian, Russian, Canadian, etc.? You think?
And how come it's OK to introduce a non-English word with an alien -le ending into common speech but not OK to use lah, which is in the OED? And why can't we just call it "The Really Grand Arts Fest" or "World Pasar Malam" or "The Big Wayang"?
Anyhow, if, say, due to another economic downturn, there were to be no Biennale in 2008, wouldn't we all look rather stupid today?
Dr Ah Beng
Dear smarties,
Point taken. So it's the usual case of monkey do, monkey follow?
Dear Dr Ah Beng,
Ah yes, pronouncing the Italian word as if it were a Hokkien word - that was good! But that was life, and this here is fiction . . . :-)
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