Jean BaptisteAn Artist Unravels His Ancestry
Through an exploration of language, roots and artistry, Jean Baptiste Phou’s latest film, My Mother’s Tongue, is a revelation.
In the diverse palette of artist Jean-Baptiste Phou’s life, ancestry, language, and identity converge. Born in Paris to Chinese-Cambodian parents, Phou’s narrative is a rich tapestry. A bold leap from finance in 2008 marked his artistic evolution. From the global stage to profound scripts, Phou’s portfolio brims with originality. Phou unveils his upbringing, a story of language, connection, and rediscovery in his film My Mother’s Tongue. In this candid Q&A, Jean-Baptiste Phou shares his artistic journey, offering a unique lens into his world.
What led you to art? How would you describe your work as an artist?
As a child, I was drawn to various art forms—singing, storytelling, and drawing. However, I never envisioned it as a potential career path. Only at the age of 27 did I leap into the professional arts. At the time, I was immersed in the world of investment banking in Singapore. I learned about an audition for a musical in Cambodia called Where Elephants Weep. I landed a part in the ensemble and quit my corporate job. Since then, I stayed in the field of arts.
Initially, I focused on acting on stage and in films in France, Cambodia and the US. Besides acting, I felt like I wanted to express my voice as well. This led me to write and direct my first Cambodian play, Here I Am. It was first produced in France in 2011, and the subsequent year, after a residency at the French Institute of Cambodia, it was reimagined in Khmer. Additionally, I undertook the adaptation, direction, and performance of l’Anarchiste, inspired by Soth Polin’s novel.
Since 2020, I have expanded my practice to more forms. This includes writing two books, 80 mots du Cambodge and Coming out of My Skin, which will both be released this year. I also exhibited photography and installation projects at the Photo Phnom Penh Festival 2022. I’ve also made a film, My Mother’s Tongue, a project that birthed an exhibition set to unveil in October 2023 at the esteemed French Institute.
What can you share about your upcoming project at the French Institute and its conception?
Before My Mother’s Tongue took cinematic form, it was conceived as a sound work. The project evolved with moving images, finally turning into a film and digital artwork called Echoes from the Stars. Here, participants could collaboratively craft an artwork by sharing voice messages containing unspoken sentiments, which would turn into stars placed on a celestial map. This led me to numerous countries, including Taiwan, Thailand, Laos, Vietnam, Indonesia, France, and Germany, each visit garnering more messages from enthralled audiences. All this material will be combined in an interactive installation called Whisper. We also wanted to restore sound back to its original art form. This exhibition is imagined as an emotional and sensorial journey: first, the audience can be immersed in the sound work My Mother’s Tongue either in French or in Khmer, then they can hear and interact with voice messages left on the platform Echoes from the Stars by previous participants. Finally, they’ll have the opportunity to record their message before departing. I aspire for the audience to undergo a meditative, perhaps even a healing moment around the themes of broken communication, regret and longing.
Could you elaborate on the artistic techniques you employed in the film, such as combining photography, animation, and sound? How do these elements work together to convey your story?
My Mother’s Tongue was first written as an open letter to my mother, an attempt to address our communication issues due to a language barrier—or so I thought. Building on this foundation, I envisioned how sound could amplify the message. We crafted the auditory piece with sound designer Vincent Villa, employing voice-overs, dialogues, music, soundscapes, and recorded sounds. It was only later that images were added. This was done in collaboration with visual artist Sao Sreymao. We deconstructed the narrative into scenes, which morphed into vignettes. Sreymao artfully layered animated drawings onto photographs, as if an unseen hand unveiled concealed moments and characters within these images. In essence, all these components form a superimposition of diverse strata, working in harmony to convey the narrative.
Language and communication are central themes in your work. How do you explore these concepts in My Mother’s Tongue, and what message do you hope to convey?
My initial intention was to explore the impact of lacking a shared language with my mother in our relationship—an experience not uncommon in families shaped by exile, migration, or displacement. However, my narrative carries distinctive layers: the backdrop of Cambodia’s violent history, my Chinese roots, the dominance of the French language, family trauma, and personal dynamics. I was trying to unpack everything and analyse every aspect in search of the root of our communication struggle. I held on to the belief–or hope–that the work could touch people beyond just my personal story. It addresses universal themes, resonating with anyone, even those unacquainted with the complexities of multicultural families or language barriers with their parents. So, the audience might find echoes of their own experiences or be prompted to contemplate them.
You mentioned that your film includes elements about learning the Khmer language. Could you tell us more about this aspect and its significance in the narrative?
Learning Khmer has been a long and challenging journey for me. Despite numerous unsuccessful attempts spanning over a decade, the struggle persists. I wanted to unpack and understand where it came from. Was it the difficulty of the language? My perception of the language? The implication of speaking it? The judgment from Khmer people and my own family? What I finally came to realise is that learning Khmer means much more than learning any other language because of the emotional link of what could or should have been my “mother tongue”. So, I question if speaking Khmer is reclaiming a part of my identity, reclaiming my place among the Cambodian people and finally removing what I thought would be the last obstacle to finally being able to truly communicate with my mother. Was I right or wrong? Did I succeed or continue to fail? Come to the Elec-Tro exhibition at the French Institute from October 4 to November 25 to find out!
Jean-Baptiste’s interactive sound installation, Whisper, is exhibiting alongside Charlie Aubry and Vincent Villa at the French Institute during their season Elec-Tro. He will also launch his book, “80 Words from Cambodia”, and premiere the Khmer version of My Mother’s Tongue in November.
(Hero image credit: Sansitny Ruth and feature image credit: Morgan Fache, 2013)
The information in this article is accurate as of the date of publication.
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