IN the Malaysian context, there is a need to make a conscious and informed distinction between what “artiste” in English and “artis” in Malay connote.

On the surface, “artis” appears to be a direct translation of the English word. However, it carries an entirely different ideological baggage and expectations that are far removed from the original word.

The more apt Malay word for “artiste” would be “seniman” (male) or “seniwati” (female). According to Wikipedia (the deep well of knowledge in our proverbial virtual universe), the word “seniman”/“seniwati” was replaced in favour of “artis” in the 1980s because the latter was more “interesting” and “in tune with the times”.

The entry states: “The word ‘artis’ is taken from English (‘artiste’)... There are different types of artistes. Among them are actors, dancers, singers/musicians and painters (the last of which would be ‘artist’ in English).”

From an academic standpoint, if we were to take Wikipedia’s as the definitive definition (because students, especially, instinctively go there), it is flawed as the entry provides no citation or reference. Hence, it is ripe to be contested, and contest it is what I shall attempt to do in this article.

I often joke with friends and colleagues that I am not an “artis” because, well, I don’t earn a living from endorsing products or services that are far removed from my expertise and professional practice as an “artiste” (e.g. a singer endorsing a 3-in-1 coffee mix, an actor endorsing fruit juice, a sportsman endorsing door locks, etc). No, no – I am an “artiste” for I am in service of the craft that I pursue, and I am acutely aware of the tradition and practice of my esteemed predecessors.

As an acolyte, I devote my life wholly to honing my own identity and take on my chosen craft. I may also seek a mentor to guide and teach me (in their own manner and time, not subservient to any national qualification body’s standards), and maybe – the key word here is maybe – I will grow as an “artiste” on my own and pass on my wisdom to the next generation.

There are no guarantees in this pursuit, and just like faith, you commit fully, without hesitation, at your own peril. Doubt is the key ingredient here, for doubt is the discourse of philosophical enquiry, from which we seek some degree of enlightenment to validate our existence.

An “artis” leverages their popularity and image – crafted and honed through the deliberate choice of characters or stereotypes they represent in their films, songs, etc – and aligns them with status quo expectations. This alignment is central for any popular “artis” because it is ideological: one must meet the consensus and demand of the market (be it via personality, beauty standards, public behaviour, performances of piety, etc) or risk being labelled a “rebel”, an “outcast”, undesirable to the demographic that the “artis” aims to hawk their chosen products to.

I like “seniman”/“seniwati” better as it carries the old romantic idea of an “artiste”: the voice of the voiceless, the outsider looking in, anonymous among common folk, a friend you seek in strangers. One who educates behind the veil of entertaining.

Most “artistes” follow a certain set of principles that they use to draw a parameter, or a moral compass that navigates their artistic output. They do not care for what others think about them, but for their work to be able to communicate an aspect of humanity or meaning.

Most mortals seek a ready-made form of this meaning-making in team sports or other social activities that come with their fair share of “selling”. Some prefer the safe confines of an echo chamber, basking in the warmth of their echoing ignorance.

The artiste tries, and tries again, sometimes lost in themselves, for creativity is a solitary pursuit.

The “artis” sells; the “artiste” creates.

It’s about the “seni”, man. – April 3, 2020.

* Azmyl Yunor is a touring underground recording artiste, and an academic in media and cultural studies. He has published articles on pop culture, subcultures and Malaysian cultural politics. He adheres to the three-chords-and-the-truth school of songwriting, and Woody Guthrie’s maxim “All you can write is what you see”. He is @azmyl on Twitter.

* This is the opinion of the writer or publication and does not necessarily represent the views of The Malaysian Insight. Article may be edited for brevity and clarity.