Star : Kuantan's first photo studio preserves history in photo
Uncle Yap
15 January 2005
Kuantan's first photo studio preserves history in photo
BY LEE SIEW PENG
PICTURES COURTESY OF CHAN CHEW PHOTO STUDIO
Being the first to do something will ensure your place in the annals
of history. StarWeekend pays a visit to Kuantan’s first photo studio
and discovers that it has recorded local history.
At a friend’s wedding reception in Kuantan two months ago, two
familiar-looking men with huge cameras discreetly mingled with the
guests, focusing their lenses every few seconds on the broad smiles
and sparkling eyes that accompany such joyous occasions.
Another friend noticed them too, and grinned. “Wow, Chan Chew is
here,” she said in astonishment. “I can’t believe they’re still taking
photos! They seem to have been around forever.”
Recognise this shophouse? It is still standing at the corner of Jalan
Bukit Ubi and Jalan Mahkota (Wall Street ).
For many Kuantan folks, Chan Chew Photo Studio really does feel like
it has been around forever. For over 80 years now, the studio has
captured the moods and faces of many generations of locals, and the
many milestones in their lives: weddings, births, graduations,
anniversaries. By commissioning the studio to record one of the most
important days in her life, my friend was simply carrying on local
tradition.
Situated in a mid-terrace block of Chinese shophouses in one of
Kuantan’s oldest commercial districts, the studio – known as simply
“Chan Chew” – is one of the most well-known in town. The shop itself
looks and feels a bit like a time warp: the walls are lined with
portraits, panoramas of China, and photos of local artistes. The photo
studio – which used to smell faintly of talcum powder and Tancho hair
cream – houses antique props and furniture, as does the large family
hall upstairs. Except for a couple of renovations in the last 50
years, things have remained unchanged.
Ironically, although Chan Chew is almost a local landmark, very few
people know its story, or the role it has played in documenting how
local fashion trends, architecture, lifestyles and communities have
evolved over the past century. Perhaps even fewer know the people
behind the counter serving them – their identities seem to have been
subsumed by the studio.
“Most of the time, when people meet us, they say, ‘Oh, Chan Chew is
here’,” laughs Chan Meng Sing, 70, who runs the studio with his
brothers Meng Kai, 73, and Meng Leong, 65. “They don’t know our names,
but we don’t mind.”
Chan Chew itself is named after their father, a Chinese immigrant who
arrived in Singapore at the age of 20 in 1905. He later moved to
Gambang, 30km from Kuantan, to work as a clerk for the Loke Yew Tin
Mining Company, where he met a group of friends who were into
photography. Chan senior was soon hooked himself and shortly after
purchased his first camera, a poster-sized Graflex Voigtlander which
used a film format of 112mm. (Yes, you read that right, 112mm.)
“The camera was quite advanced for its time. It probably cost between
100-200 Straits dollars,” Meng Sing reckons. “Back then there was only
Kodak film, and only six pictures in one roll!”
Meng Sing is unsure when the photo studio was set up exactly, but adds
that the business registration license dates from 1921. Their “third
mother” (Chan Chew would go on to marry four wives), Lum Yoke Heng,
was a woman of means, and gave their father the money to pursue his
interest professionally.
Setting up the very first photo studio in a town that was then little
more than a large village was an innovative business idea. Chan Chew
proved very successful, and Chan Sr was in demand for both studio and
outdoor work. Chan Chew would be the only photo studio in Kuantan for
many years, until the Savoy opened in 1938. It remained open for
business during World War II, “but getting supplies was a big
problem,” recalls Meng Sing. “They came by steamer from Singapore, but
the route services were disrupted during the war. So getting film
paper and chemicals was difficult, and cost a lot more.”
Like father, like sons
Chan Sr’s passion for photos was inevitably passed on to his sons.
Meng Kai began helping his father at the studio in his teens, and Meng
Sing started taking photos in school, snapping shots of his
classmates, football matches and sports days. “I still have the
negatives! Unfortunately some are spoiled already,” he says. “I had a
Ricoflex back then. It was a very popular camera at the time and quite
cheap. The more expensive model was the Rolleiflex.”
Meng Sing joined Meng Kai in the family business when their father
passed away in 1951. (Meng Leong, the youngest, joined 10 years ago,
after retiring as a teacher.)
Chan Chew, the man after whom Kuantan’s first photo studio is named.
“In the 1950s we took mostly shots of events and celebrations, such as
Malay weddings, parties, Thaipusam, Chinese New Year and the lantern
festival,” he reminisces. “I especially remember 1955, when the state
capital was moved from Kuala Lipis to Kuantan. There was a procession
with floats in town, and water sports on the Kuantan river.”
The studio was also in demand for more strenuous outdoor work. Meng
Sing was assigned to take progress report photos of the building of
the Kuantan airport runway from 1954 to 1955.
Later, in the 1970s, the Australian High Commission gave the studio
the task of photographing Australian surveyors working on the Segamat
Highway.
We flip through a few of the numerous photo albums, and are instantly
taken back in time. Men in baggy pants, starched white shirts and
skinny striped ties and women with bobs and beehives in A-line dresses
smile back at us. A band from the Woh Seng Municipal Club accompanies
a wedding couple on one of the makeshift ferries plying the Pahang
river. The posters outside Sultana Talkies – the only indoor cinema
hall in town after World War II – advertise movies such as New Mexico,
SOS Coast Guard, Penang Batik and California Range. A 1930s crowd
carrying banners celebrates the anniversary of the Kuomintang. An
evocative shot of Wall Street (now Jalan Mahkota) taken after the
great floods of 1926 shows a boat still leaning against a tree. Meng
Sing himself, carrying a “Chan Chew” photographer’s bag, poses with a
friend in front of the Hokkien Association after a wedding in 1948
(“In those days, Chinese couples didn’t take their wedding photos in
the studio – they were taken in the Chinese association,” he says.)
Many of the older images of Kuantan life have the heart of the
community – the town padang – as the backdrop, fittingly enough. There
are shots of the first aircraft to land in the padang in the 1930s;
parades during the 1957 Merdeka celebrations; Minggu Bahasa, which was
held after independence in the 1960s; even a demonstration rally
during the Confrontation. (“They burnt an effigy of Sukarno,” Meng
Sing says.) Some of these photos are nearly 100 years old.
The photos of Kuantan’s buildings are especially interesting, and I
find myself juxtaposing the black-and-white Kuantan of yesteryear
before me with the bustling town just outside the studio door. Meng
Sing tells me that they used to sell postcards of Kuantan architecture
between 1965 and 1980.
He can also relate the engaging stories behind the pictures. “Kuantan
has expanded a lot! For many years, there were only two streets, Wall
Street and Main Street. In 1956, the only concrete building in town
was Dr Choo Joo Kong’s house, located next to what used to be the
jail. Dr Choo himself was one of the first doctors in Kuantan.”
Developing problems
However, the distinction of being Kuantan’s first photo studio comes
with its own set of problems. Making reprints is difficult, Meng Sing
says, because it’s difficult to get printing material for
black-and-white pictures. “There’s just no demand now that
everything’s in colour,” he sighs. “Back in the 1950s, we were the
only ones who could do it, because we had the darkroom, and not many
people knew how to print in black-and-white.”
Being so “famous” for such extraordinary photos also means many
solicitations. “Many people used to ask us for old photos, for their
personal collection, or school projects. The Chinese newspapers also
came to us when they wanted photos for their stories on the history of
Kuantan,” Meng Sing says. “We used to display old photos in the shop
but we were pestered so much to sell them that we’ve taken them down
to avoid the hassle.”
Due to the number of years it has been around, the studio has to deal
with the issue of storage as well.
Four members of the Chan family strike a pose outside their shophouse
in the 1930s.
“After the war, when we first renovated the studio, we threw away many
glass plates (used for taking photos). We lost a lot of valuable items
that way,” Meng Sing says. Does he regret this loss? He shrugs. “What
to do, there was no place to keep them. Keeping negatives is already
troublesome, imagine what it would have been like with glass plates.”
The Chans have devised a system to keep track of the sizeable
collection. “The negatives are kept in archived boxes, which are
dated. You only need to tell me the date of the print you want, and I
can retrieve it.” To save space, only negatives of “value” are kept,
i.e. those featuring famous people, historic events and certain school
photos.
Speaking of school photos, Meng Sing reckons that the studio has done
the entire school run in Kuantan. “We covered all the primary and
secondary school events!” he chuckles. “But these days, everyone takes
their own photos. Teachers and students have their own digicams and
printing machines so they don’t need us any more.”
Something to smile about?
Nevertheless, some things never change. Every year, Meng Sing still
goes to the royal palace in Pekan to take photos of investitures.
Chinese families still come in during Chinese New Year for family
shots, as do the Malays during Hari Raya. Graduates still come here
for their cap-and-gown photos.
More importantly, the regulars keep coming. Throughout the interview,
they flit in and out of the shophouse, to place orders or simply chat
with the brothers. A makcik brings out a faded black-and-white photo
of her family and asks, “Boleh buat besar sikit? Macam tu.” (Is it
possible to make an enlargement? Like that.) She points to the
portrait of Chan Chew hanging on the wall.
The studio still does not sell digital cameras – the Chans are
strictly traditionalist.
The Shang Pan school.
“Digicams are very expensive and the models change very fast,” Meng
Sing says. Furthermore, digicams are not an exclusively photographic
trade – just look at how many are sold in electrical shops.”
He concedes that although Chan Chew is well-known, the reality is “to
survive and get enough business”.
His son and Meng Leong’s son are not interested in carrying on the
business, so the torch looks set to pass to Meng Kai’s son Tuck Fong.
“There are so many competitors today,” he sighs, a far-away look in
his eyes. “But we try to make people happy.
If our customers say it’s a job well done, we’re happy. A lot of
people have come to know us through our work, and that’s very
satisfying.”
I leave feeling incredibly privileged, and very aware of this photo
studio’s important social contribution.
As I drive home, my imagination fired, I find myself trying to picture
what the streets must have looked like 50 – no, 100 – years ago.
It then strikes me that Chan Chew’s legacy does not stop at
documenting Kuantan’s social and architectural heritage – the photos
raise awareness of local history and encourage the next generation to
look at their town with new eyes.
In an age when Malaysia’s social and physical landscape is mutating
faster than algae, these photos are all the more precious inheritance.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++
The photographer then and now
By LEE SIEW PENG
Chan Meng Sing (pic) of Chan Chew, the first photo studio in Kuantan,
has been a photographer for over 50 years, and has seen as many
changes in his profession as he has of the town – and it doesn’t stop
at the equipment.
“Among the cameras I had was a Kodak Graflex. It used film packs,
which came in 12 ¼-plate-sized shots (3”x 4”) that had to be pulled
out one by one. The camera was a small square box measuring about 8” x
8”, but extended to about 1½ ft once it was pulled out,” says the spry
70-year-old.
His father’s Graflex Voigtlander measured 5” wide by 2” deep and 10”
high, and was a bellows camera – the lens could be pushed inside, a
very cool feature at the time!
Chan also remembers the creativity of photographers in the days before
electricity. “When my father Chan Chew started the photo studio in the
1920s, you couldn’t take photos at night or even on cloudy days,” he
says, showing me a 70-year-old picture of a house on fire. “My father
was only able to take this because of the illumination from the fire.”
Chan Sr removed the tiles on the roof over the studio and replaced
them with glass panes for more light. He placed cloth curtains
underneath the panes to control the amount of lighting he required.
“Kuantan didn’t have electricity until 1930. When the studio finally
had a power supply, my father had big, 200-watt, football-sized
tungsten lamps installed,” Chan recalls.
“There was one bank of four lamps, and two smaller banks of two lamps
each at the side. These were for group photos. He was glad he didn’t
have to worry about overhead natural lighting any more.”
He points out a photo of the studio in the 1930s. “Do you know why it
says ‘Chan Chew Photographer Day and Night’ on the sign? Because now
we could take photos both day and night!”
The advent of the electronic flash in the 1950s made taking night
shots a lot easier. “Before that, we had to use flashbulbs,” Chan
laughs. “It was a very clumsy thing having to carry a bag full of
bulbs everywhere we went, especially at night – and each bulb could
only be used once! And for group photos we had to use even bigger
bulbs for a stronger output of flash.”
Photography costs were relatively cheap in the good old days too. A
postcard-sized portrait (3R/4R) cost just three Straits dollars, and
enlargements were just a few dollars more. “We didn’t use roll films
very much,” says Chan. “We used glass plates in different sizes of ¼
plate (3”x 4”), 1½ plate (4”x 6”) and full plate (6”x8”). For group
photos, we’d use a plate measuring 10”x 12”.”
Chan has seen social trends change as well. “In the old days, couples
would hire a gown, get someone to do their make-up and come here on
their wedding day for photos. You had to take the photo on that day,
and on auspicious days we’d often have a backlog because all the
couples would come together,” he smiles.
“But times have changed. People don’t come to the studio any more
because wedding photography has become a very specialised package,
with make-up and gowns. Photos are now taken months ahead. You
couldn’t do that in the past, because the old people held to the
pantang that you were only supposed to wear the wedding clothes once
and only on the big day. As a result, we mostly do only photo
finishing, developing and printing now. We don’t even do many
weddings, except for the occasional one held outdoors.”
And now that everything is in colour, there’s no need for
paintbrushes. Chan slides open a drawer and pulls out a crumpled book
of water colour papers.
“These were specially for retouching and colouring photos,” he
explains, fingering the still-bright sheets. “Colouring required
special artistic skill, especially when it came to the face. You had
to use a very mild colour or the subject would end up looking like he
had jaundice!”
Pan
wrote:
>From The Star
>15 January 2005
>
>Kuantan's first photo studio preserves history in photo
>BY LEE SIEW PENG
>PICTURES COURTESY OF CHAN CHEW PHOTO STUDIO
[snip]
Thanks, Uncle Yap. I love stories like this. I had to go to The Star's
website to see the photos.
Michael
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