Chakrabhand, the puppet master
Living in Thailand April 1986
Even a cursory glance at Thai art – be it the scrolled tomato skin masquerading as a rose on your dinner plate, or a masterpiece of mural painting – reveals its magnificent bias towards detail and exactness. There is a painstaking attention to getting it right – not according to some preconceived notion of reality, but stylised for itself, for the sheer beauty of proportion and craft and miniature elegance.
Chakrabhand Posayakrit epitomises this bias at its best. He has the Midas touch in all the varied and magical areas he explores, iridescently redeeming from obscurity arts and crafts in the process of extinction.
Apart from painting and drawing, in both of which fields he is an acknowledged and consummate figure, his work with puppets has drawn increasing attention.
His studio on Soi Ekamai, set back from the busy road and annexed to the main house, is ticking over with activity. Chakrabhand’s apprentices – he runs a Renaissance-style studio with great aplomb – are all busy but eager to show visitors the ins and outs of the puppet maker’s art. Inside, in the cool, the master paints, adding light touches to the foliage of what appears, at first sight, to be a classical Thai painting. Kodak shots have helped in the making of the background detail. The landscape and the positioning of the figures in it have echoes of the French classicist Poussin. It is tantalisingly straddling time and geography.
Chakrabhand dates his interest in painting from about the age of twelve. His fascination for puppets and the dramatic possibilities they embody stems from the same period. Here again he is a child of his time. His first puppets were television creatures. He remembers going to Sanam Luang to check out the real live thing – and being disappointed.
‘The performances were tacky, unprofessional,’ he says, ‘performance is a serious business. It demands a lot of work – the costumes, the music –above all the music – timing, lights, everything. But especially the puppets themselves.’
‘But it’s just a hobby,’ he adds deprecatingly. The beautiful creatures in their gilt and jewels stare aghast from their glass cases around the studio.
Like a child with his stamp albums, or a master craftsman anywhere, Chakrabhand moves around his domain with evident delight: pulling out a finished headdress here, a specially commissioned puppet there, pointing out the rubies and emeralds in a costume detail, showing initial designs, finished features.
Outside, in the afternoon heat, he explains the traditional puppet-maker’s skills. At present he is restoring the collection of royal puppets with the help of a grant from Siam cement.
‘We want to study how they were made, how they were manipulated,’ he enthuses. ‘Nobody is interested. Nobody wants to watch. This is partly due to lack of professionalism. People want to see a good show.’
The rod puppets are created from layers of fibreglass resin painted onto original mouldings, designed by Chakrabhand. These are then made-up according to the characters they represent. The headdresses and various appurtenances are the most time-consuming. The embroidery work, using coloured glass and sequins, real fur and Thai silk, creates a shimmering mirage designed to dazzle the audience. Some heads he has sculpted in porcelain. Each puppet takes hours of individual effort and craftsmanship. Chakrabhand resents the time it takes from his more serious pursuits – painting and drawing – but his passion for classical dance, opera and the performance arts keeps his enthusiasm alive.