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UBIN : BEAUTY OF THE DISCARDED

by Jon Morgan

Editor's note: All photos referred to in the article (Plates) can be seen by clicking on their links or their smaller counterparts within the article.

The island of Pulau Ubin is something of an anomaly in modern day Singapore. Lying in the straits that separate Singapore from Malaysia, just a couple of wingspans away from Changi International Airport, Pulau Ubin has largely escaped the ministrations of urban planners. The twin difficulties of building a bridge over busy shipping lanes and tunneling under a wide, deep channel have preserved a bumboat ride back in time to a world of Malay kampongs; decrepit, de-registered taxis; and the kind of casual disregard for aesthetics displayed by communities of this kind the world over when disposing of refuse.

It was this air of disregard that attracted me to Ubin and led me to a series of monthly visits over a two year period (1995 and 1996). Setting out early before the tropical light became too intense, I arrived on main street--a single-track road through the island's only real village--just as the bike rental shops were opening, so I could hire transportation which boasted both brakes and gears in working order.

Geographically, Pulau Ubin is wholly unremarkable and doesn't lend itself to the macro view. Vast tracts of land have been gorged and scarred by quarrying, but there remain some reasonably large areas of virgin forest. It was down the various tracks that criss-cross this semi-jungle environment that I cycled in search of photographically fertile haunts.

My first port of call was often a semi-abandoned boat yard hidden away up one of the winding creeks that eventually lead to the sea. Few people outside the immediate maritime community ever go there. My destination was a riverbank of dried (and not-so-dried) mud strewn with every imaginable remnant of disemboweled boat. The only other visitor, apart from myself, appeared to be the mosquito man, whose solution to keeping a lid on the airborne population was to spray all stagnant water with diesel oil (Plate 1).

On a small island such as Ubin, you're never far from water (usually of the un-oiled variety). I pride myself on a fairly good sense of direction, but even if you don't get lost, you frequently confront creeks, levees, and the coastline itself unexpectedly. Seeking out the best shots often means abandoning your bicycle and backpack, and picking your way across rocks and uncertain-looking sand, one hand on the camera and the other clinging to a succession of sturdy mangrove branches. Even here humanity leaves its mark. Natural formations are confused with manmade structures--the non-biodegradable in the form of washed-up plastic (Plate 2) and the slowly biodegradable in the shape of a half-sunken wooden boat, the outlines of which slice through reflections of the forest (Plate 3).

Not surprisingly, reflections and water become a recurrent theme, whether on the levees amongst the fishermen's nets and makeshift jetties (Plate 4), in hidden pools where living palms appear as reflections superimposed upon their submerged and decomposing counterparts (Plate 5), or amongst reeds which pierce a scum-covered surface, casting irresistible graphic shadows across an encrusted micro landscape (Plate 6).

I loved these miniature worlds, which would transform themselves each time I visited. The earth hills in Plate 7 were sometimes immersed in water and sometimes--as here--standing exposed in the low sunlight like miniature mountain ranges. I also loved the carefree detritus of habitation--for example, a disused wooden house on stilts gradually disintegrating into a watery grave (Plate 8).

It was the juxtaposition of these two elements--nature and man's mark on it--that kept drawing me back to the island over those two years. To some, the presence of human refuse is damning evidence of a disregard for Planet Earth, but I find it difficult to draw such clear-cut conclusions when looking through the lens. A successful image draws no distinction between the pristine and the adulterated, and I find myself unwilling to pass judgment. For me, on Pulau Ubin, the footprints of nature and man co-exist with equal beauty.