MY FIRST VISIT to Pulau Ketam was during the Pulau Ketam International Art Festival in 2016. I was in charge of the printmaking studio located inside a temple, along with a Canadian artist and two artists from the US.

On my first day on the island, I was tasked to decorate the jetty, continuing on until late in the night. It was then that I witnessed a group of dogs chasing and hunting a cat. I was stunned because the cats I knew were usually fiercer than dogs—my cat would often scale walls to fight my neighbour’s dog. As I stood there, the dogs turned their attention to me—and because I could not outrun them, I had to fend them off with my sandals. Eventually, a resident came to help chase them away. He explained that these dogs were wild, unlike dogs on the mainland. It was my first glimpse of the island’s untamed nature.

Most of what constitutes Pulau Ketam is built on pillars above the mudflats. During the day, wild dogs lurk beneath, emerging only at night. The encounters I have had with them usually occur while using the restroom. The island’s old houses have toilets with rectangular holes in the ground that are covered by planks. I encountered the dogs again while using one of these; they could easily jump up from the mudflats. It was frightening, to say the least.

Pulau Ketam is divided into two layers: the upper layer belongs to humans, while the lower layer perpetually belongs to other creatures. Animals lurking in the mudflats eagerly await to rule the upper, and as soon as humans move out of their homes, they take over.

I found this fascinating, so in November 2018, I returned to the island for a yearlong residency.

Getting To Know Pulau Ketam

I stayed in the gǎng wěi (港尾) area, far from the bustling tourist hub near the main jetty. As the island is predominantly occupied by the Teochew community, I immersed myself in their rich traditions. The locals have managed to preserve their customs, offering me a glimpse into their fascinating culture. One of the most captivating is the Teochew Opera, a traditional form of entertainment deeply rooted in their heritage. Despite not fully understanding the dialect, I found myself captivated by the intricate stage setup and the laid-back atmosphere of the performance.

During my first trip, the Pulau Ketam Art Association’s studio had yet to be ready. I stayed in Xing Man Tang Lodge located next to a líng cuò (绫厝), a clan temple that serves as a significant cultural centre on the island. Most líng cuò here worship Tua Peh Kong (a Taoist deity also known as the “God of Prosperity”) and serve as communal gathering spots.

The locals gather during important dates on the lunar calendar for communal prayers and celebrations. It was during one of these interactions that I learned about the traditional fishing practices of the community. Long before the advent of modern materials like plastic, they used plant fibres to weave fishing nets. To enhance its durability, they coated these nets with lacquer from mangrove trees, giving rise to the term “leng chu” in Teochew (or as mentioned earlier, líng cuò, in Mandarin) which literally translates as “net house”. This intricate process not only preserved their fishing nets but symbolised the interconnectedness within the community. Leng chu also marks the beginning of residential clusters as immigrants from China settle and build their homes around these communal centres.

Inspired By Crabs

The vibrancy of life in Pulau Ketam and its inhabitants is reflected in its colourful houses. From the sea, one would be mesmerised by the beautiful hues of the sky and sea, juxtaposed against the island’s bold aesthetic. It was also during my residence that I had the pleasure of experiencing a delightful tea known as páng xiè jiǎo (螃蟹腳), translated as “crab legs”, introduced to me by the owner of a fishery. This unique tea blends the flavours of algae with the soothing aroma of tea. Interestingly, páng xiè ji ǎ o is made from a parasitic plant found on old tea trees. The branches of this plant bear a striking resemblance to crab legs.

One may think it interesting to have a unique blend of tea referring to crabs, seeing that the island is named “crab island”, but the association does not end there. I began to notice crab motifs everywhere, influencing various aspects of their life.

This led me to reflect on the phenomenon of Carcinisation, where different species have evolved into crab-like forms throughout natural history. It is noteworthy that the term “cancer” itself derives from the Greek word for crab. While in modern times, cancer refers to a group of diseases characterised by abnormal cell growth, the Greek physician Hippocrates observed similarities between crabs and certain tumours marked by swollen veins. This observation underscores a peculiar connection where elements of our own physiology seem to have evolved into crablike forms.

As my residency at Pulau Ketam drew to a close towards the end of 2019, I found myself deeply entrenched in the notion of everything evolving into crab-like forms. However, what truly cemented this idea in my mind was my understanding of Generative Adversarial Networks (GANs), a powerful artificial intelligence (AI) technology used for image generation.

In the world of AI, GANs rely on training sets consisting of vast collections of images to refine their ability to generate new visuals. Much like how Google’s Deep Dream AI famously began to perceive dogs in everything after being trained on a large dataset of pet photos, I too, found myself perceiving crabs in a multitude of objects and scenes. It was as if my mind had been trained on a dataset of crab narratives.

Therefore, in 2022, I did a solo exhibition at the Gajah Gallery, inspired by my residency experiences in Pulau Ketam. Titled “Pasang Surut” (Ebb and Flow), it drew inspiration from a Perak folklore “Pokok Pauh Janggi”. In this story, the world is depicted as a giant lake with an island where a cosmic tree stands. A giant crab resides on this island, and when the crab climbs the tree, it creates a low tide; when it returns to the water, it causes a high tide. This concept is fascinating because it follows Archimedes’ Principle; it also offers a playful way to view the world. It wanted to depict the ebb and flow of life echoed by the tidal rhythms on the island.

The idea of crabs influencing both natural and human history became a central theme that my team of artists sought to explore further through the immersive medium of virtual reality during the Cahaya XR mentorship. Our journey began with our first fieldwork at The Habitat Penang Hill, where Ahmad Zafir Abdul Wahab, the Executive Director, introduced us to the Penang Hill Vampire Crab. This encounter reminded us of a folklore about the Titiwangsa mountains—where the Highland Crab saved humans during a great flood. In gratitude, humans gave their body hair to the crab, which the crab then used to absorb water, allowing it to breathe outside the water. This story highlights a deep kinship between humans and crabs.

The connection deepened when we spoke with Ombak Potehi, who shared the story of tián dū yuán shuài (田都元帅), also known as the Southern China Opera God. According to legend, the deity was abandoned as a baby and raised by a hairy crab, which nurtured him with bubble saliva. Because of this, the deity is often depicted with a crab motif on his mouth, marking the bond between crabs and humans. These stories enriched our project, providing a cul - tural and mythological foundation for the “Crab Chronicle” VR experience, documenting a relationship that is discreetly symbolic.