The Water Issue, Winter 2015

Léa Seydoux, the French star who’s conquered Hollywood and is the new face of Prada Candy, speaks to Caroline Davies about childhood, perfume and Nietzsche

A ski-in, ski-out residence complete with Martini bar and pool sounds very Rocky Mountains, yet L’Amara is a spectacular addition to one of the most traditional skiing regions of France, as Darius Sanai discovers

Powder White: Avoriaz’s high elevation ensures a fine supply of deep snow

How do you like to take your Alpine winter holiday? I suspect that cosmopolitan readers of LUX like to ski in the Alps, as well as put carbon fibre on snow in Colorado, Idaho and Hokkaido. There is something about the home of skiing, the crescent of mountains that rises out of the Mediterranean above Nice and sweeps through France, Switzerland, northern Italy and Austria before petering out, like the Turks, at the gates of Vienna, that is more concentrated, more alive with possibility and atmosphere, than anywhere else. The powder may be deeper in Niseko, the back country bigger in British Columbia, the whole experience more effortless in Aspen: but the Alps are where the story started, and where it evolved and continues to evolve. (Snowboarders have a different tale to tell, but not that many of you are boarders.)

If you are of one generation of wealth, you may stay in a hotel in St Moritz, Lech or Gstaad. Another, and you will be pounding the new hotels of Courchevel (see our helpful tongue- in-cheek guide at the end of this article). Or you may instead take over a whole chalet in Zermatt or Verbier. One rung down from the gourmet-catered chalets are the traditional French ski holiday chalets, cheerfully run by a chalet girl fresh out of British boarding school, happily burning the scrambled eggs and fighting off the advances of a soon-to-be-retired chartered surveyor from Surrey while his family occupies the Jacuzzi.

While there is no shortage of grand hotels, old and new, and chalets of every style, what the Alps have largely lacked is sophisticated, concierge-led residences in the American style, where you have a kitchen and living room, an in-residence pool, and a proper reception/bar/ restaurant downstairs, hotel-style. Until recently. L’Amara, one such development, opened last year to a considerable buzz in the French resort of Avoriaz. Avoriaz itself, located at a very high 1,800m on a mountainside above a deep valley, in which lies its mother resort of Morzine, has undergone something of a rebranding in recent years, shedding its 1960s middle-middle-class French bourgeoisie image and turning more contemporary and upmarket. L’Amara is in an extension of the main village, on a ledge overlooking Morzine (rather satisfying, if, as during our stay, there is deep snow all around but the grey of rain far down below).

When booking we did wonder whether being a) high on a ledge, and b) 500m from the main part of Avoriaz would be an issue, and this is a good demonstration of how even an enormous amount of online research can draw you to the wrong conclusion. L’Amara’s location, bordering the thick forest that plunged down the valley, was spectacular and felt exclusive. The walk to the village centre was panoramic, flat, and thrilling; even more so when my younger daughter decided that the wheelbarrows-on-skis that you can pick up and deposit back anywhere in the village would be an ideal mode of transportation: one daughter thus transported the other throughout the trip. (This would not work in a resort thick with teenage British partygoers, who would inevitably shove each other down the run leading down the ledge in an alcohol-fuelled daze, with predictably alarming consequences. Fortunately, Avoriaz is very upper-middle-class family, or was when we were there.)

L’Amara itself is genuinely ski-in, ski- out (unlike some places that dub themselves so): unless you execute a perfect stop, you will find yourself skiing into the ski room, and conversely you can launch yourself out in the morning like a racer from a downhill starting gate. The ski school assembly area, where I left the family every morning, is above the main village. On day one we walked, and felt rather laden down with skis, poles and rucksacks (the altitude doesn’t help). Day two saw us ski down out of the hotel to the bottom of the (easy) blue run, with the aim of taking the chairlift that would deposit us just above the ski school area; we were just patting ourselves on the back for working out this ruse when we were confronted by a 20-minute queue of several hundred other people who had the same idea. (In the resort’s defence, we were travelling on the busiest week of the year and this was the only lift with any kind of significant queue.) On day three we found the solution that we used for the rest of the week with joy: a horse-drawn sleigh taxi, which whooshed us up to the ski school in a cloud of hooves, powder and sleigh bells (to the children’s delight) in three short minutes, for a mere €10. Worth the money for the ride alone.

The skiing in Avoriaz is extensive but not very tall: there are no ultra-high lifts of the type you get in Zermatt or Chamonix. Double- diamond and power-hound experts would run out of thrills quite soon, I think, but for a skier like me (and I am possibly the most common type of lifelong skier) the selection of interesting reds and proper but not kamikaze blacks was varied enough to hold the attention for a week without getting too much déjà vu.

Avoriaz is in the middle of an interlinked region called the Portes du Soleil. It is not as logically and broadly linked as the Trois Vallées of Courchevel, Meribel and Val Thorens: you can choose to ski to Champéry in Switzerland or, in the other direction, to Châtel in France. The Châtel trip was a ski journey of the type I enjoy, but it took a bit of navigation with the map. A lift up, then down to a collation of restaurants in the next valley called Ardent; up another lift and down a pleasant red to another, bigger collation of restaurants called Les Lindarets in a confusingly similar-looking valley; then up two lifts to a high-ish station called Chesery, from which it would be easy to take the wrong piste and end up back in Les Lindarets.

From Chesery there was a long view down a new valley all the way to Lake Geneva. The most interesting run of all, a steep, straight and mogulled red through the trees (really a black), led down to the pretty, traditional village of Châtel. It felt strangely satisfying to know that to drive back to Avoriaz from here would take up to two hours, around the mountains, and I was planning to have a hot chocolate (laced with a little something) and admire my last run, when I realised that I would need to turn straight round and return if I weren’t to miss the last in the fiddly series of lifts to get back home. I had to positively will the chairlifts to go faster and ski like an impatient Italian instructor eager to get down to his first date with a blonde Swedish student. I still had my heart in my mouth as I did my last racing turn (or what I hoped was a racing turn) to meet the final lift: it closed at 4.15pm, my watch said 4.17pm and… it was still moving. I shot through the gate without slowing down and was whisked back up to safety.

The rest of the family had just as enjoyable, if rather less eventful, times and after years of staying at luxury hotels it was a curious relief to be back into our extensive den at L’Amara. I enjoyed cooking (shopping in French supermarkets is always a pleasure) and opening wine purchased from a wine shop, not a marked-up hotel restaurant (it’s the principle, not the price). And after a day of ski school/private lessons, nobody felt much like talking to more strangers in the form of waiters and the like.

L’Amara has been designed with great attention to detail: we liked the porthole window by the floor-to-ceiling balcony door, the wraparound balcony itself, and the extremely well-equipped kitchen (complete with oyster shuckers and other signs of entitled bourgeoisie). On two nights we ventured across the snowy courtyard to Le Grand Café, part of the same complex, a new-but-trad restaurant serving steak on hot stones, various fondues, and high-class thin, misshapen pizzas of the best kind. Neither hotel nor chalet, and rather better than both, residences like L’Amara have a bright future in the Alps – the best type of American import.

Crystal Holidays offer comprehensive luxury packages to L’Amara in Avoriaz. crystalski.co.uk

Controversy and chaos collide in the photography of Tierney Gearon, discovers Millie Walton. No wonder Charles Saatchi is a fan.

Tierney Gearon is hard to pin down. It takes a couple of weeks for me to catch her on the phone from her home in Los Angeles, and even then it’s only for a few minutes, as she’s “arrived at a friend’s house and doesn’t want to look rude”. I shouldn’t be surprised; she is one of the world’s most sought-after photographers. Yet despite the fact that she’s balancing two jobs as an artist and mother, she’s more than willing to talk and welcome me into her world. There’s a familiarity to her, even though we’ve never spoken before, and her answers feel genuine and unrehearsed.

The way she puts it, she sort of stumbled into photography. Born in Georgia, initially she was a ballet dancer “and then I cut my hair and became a model. While I was modelling and travelling around the world, I kept a Polaroid diary of everything I did. One of my agents saw the Polaroids I’d taken of the other models and said, ‘Oh my god, you’re an incredible photographer!’ That’s basically how I broke into fashion photography.” There’s a pause as she’s seen something she needs to take a photo of – a little girl playing with her mum. “Give me two seconds.” Despite this little interlude, Tierney doesn’t usually carry her camera around with her. She finds it “far too intense”, preferring instead to allocate dedicated work trips.

Pushing the Boundaries
Gearon’s ‘Colorshape’ series explores the idea of putting someone in a box, literally and metaphorically

She’s back, slightly out of breath and laughing. “Sorry about that! Where was I? When I got married I put my photography aside for a while to concentrate on having children and being a mum,” she continues. “When I started having marital problems aged 38 I needed to find myself again, so I started photographing my family in a new, artistic way. I’m one of those people who believe that you should just follow things in your path. You never know what’s going to happen.”

In 2001 Gearon’s photographs were showcased in the Saatchi Gallery in London – a huge achievement for a virtually unknown artist. However, the exhibition (‘I Am A Camera’), which included two photographs of her nude children (then aged four and six) caused public outrage, resulting in the near-seizure of her work under indecency laws. The abuse propelled at her by the media was particularly vicious – a News of the World review labelled the show “perversion under the guise of art”. She was, she says, “an innocent person who was simply trying to document” her life, but looking back on the controversy now Tierney appreciates how naïve she was to the art world. “When Charles Saatchi saw my work he knew that something would happen because of it,” she says. “Those were intended as light, funny images. To me, the darkness is in the eye of the beholder. If you see something dark that’s your issue, not mine.”

Did the incident cause her to reconsider her artwork? “It made me lose interest in the business of the art world itself,” she says. “I feel like a lot of galleries and people are just looking for sensation. Charles Saatchi is a master at advertising, creating sensation. Being a successful art director is an incredible gift and he is very talented. It’s great to have people like that appreciate your work, but at the same time one needs to be careful not to get caught up in the art world game.”

Site Specific The Plexiglas structures are built on site wherever Gearon is shooting

Perhaps that’s why Gearon’s images are so rooted within the domestic world. She works through an organic creative process, which naturally encourages people to use their imaginations. “Usually I direct organised chaos and interesting things happen within it,” she explains. “A lot of the time people don’t even know I’m taking their photograph.”

It’s that combination of reality paired with fantasy that makes her photographs so mesmerising. The worlds she depicts often have a way of inviting the viewer in while also evoking an atmosphere that’s punctuated by sadness or uncertainty. This is most obvious in ‘The Mother Project’, a series of photographs that explores Gearon’s relationship with her mentally ill mother. Despite the hardship that must have entailed, the artist looks back on her childhood fondly. “Both my parents gave me an enormous amount of love and allowed me to be an individual,” she recalls. “They gave me the space to be creative and to appreciate creativity.” It’s something she aims to allow her own children by encouraging them to collaborate with her on projects. Her most recent release, ‘Alphabet Book’ – “an art book for children and a children’s book for adults” – is the result of that collaboration and an enchanting example of what combined imaginations can produce.

Aside from being an outlet for creativity, I wonder why Gearon feels so compelled to photograph and what it is that she’s hoping to capture in her images. “My photography is like a diary of my soul,” she says. “Every single project I’ve done is a way of working through different issues in my life. My images tell a story, they provoke emotion and feelings.”

What’s the story behind her current series, ‘Colorshape’, I ask. “It’s about putting someone in a box. I wasn’t raised with a lot of boundaries, so by putting someone in a box I was also learning to contain myself.” One can’t help feeling that the project, like all of Gearon’s work, will keep going until she discovers exactly what it is she’s looking for. She admits to be being “a perfectionist” and says that “I may appear disorganised from the outside, but anyone that really knows me understands that even the chaos that sometimes surrounds me is an organised chaos.”

Organisation, it would seem, is the key to Gearon’s sense of stability. It’s a way of grounding herself and her children. “I have a very distracted personality and I create structure by creating a strong family home that feels safe for us,” she explains. “I don’t drink, smoke or do any drugs. We go on a lot of family trips and I have a huge support team, which includes my close friends and family.”

I wonder how her work has developed since becoming a mother. “All of my projects are from my heart and soul. I feel I have become more focused and more confident over the years. I live in the present, which keeps my work very current, but I don’t work every day so my work doesn’t consume me. My children consume me.”

We move on to talking about her relationship with her audience. With 54,000 followers on Instagram, it’s safe to say Gearon has a significant following who enjoy viewing her professional work as much as the “visually inspiring images” of her everyday life. “I’m not even sure who my audience is because I’ve never met them,” she muses. “But I feel that people who appreciate my work are people looking for something raw and individual, something very authentic. Because I share myself with people in my work, people reach out to me, they feel understood by me. Instagram has been very interesting because I am able to communicate directly with my audience and people can share with me, too.”

It’s a refreshing take on the social media craze that’s consuming our lives and expresses Gearon’s genuine lust for life. “As long as I love what I do I will continue to do what I do,” she says. “As soon as I lose interest or inspiration then I will move on to a different medium so my goal is to never stop finding inspirations and discovering new things.”

It seems a simple philosophy, but one that most of us could do with adopting ourselves. Our conversation ends, leaving me feeling uplifted and impassioned. In the world of Tierney Gearon, nothing is impossible.

tierneygearon.com

Land Acquisition – Once the fragmented lands are connected, APR will provide overall wildlife management focus

Sean Gerrity has a vision, which he is rapidly turning into reality. Through the American Prairie Reserve, of which he is president, he is creating a wilderness reserve in North America to rival the Serengeti. Darius Sanai tells the story; and over the next pages, the images of the reserve in Montana tell their own 

“In 10 to 15 years, you should see a slice of land extending 13,000 square kilometres here, the vast majority of that with no fences. There will be stunning variety of wildlife that has not been seen here for 150 years, but which was here for 1,000 years or more: thousands of bison, like the wildebeest in the Serengeti; cougars, wolves, grizzly bears in sustainable numbers. There will be all species of prey like elk and deer. It will be very easy to engage with this space: it will be a very wild place but with planned, controlled public access.”

Sean Gerrity – An ex-entrepreneur, Gerrity now commits himself to wildlife preservation

Sean Gerrity is mapping out his vision for the American Prairie Reserve (APR) on the high plateau of Montana. The idea of a kind of vast safari reserve in what has, in recent times, been farmland may sound far-fetched, but Gerrity is no empty dreamer. In his role at the APR, he has already been building the project for 15 years, purchasing and piecing together ranches and farms from owners who are giving up on farming. “Their kids want to go live in the cities and become web designers,” he says, commenting on the decline of the ranching tradition. Rather than let the area become forgotten, he and the APR are building America’s largest wilderness reserve and restocking it with species, many now endangered, that used to roam freely.

Gerrity and the APR work closely with conservation bodies like the International Union for the Conservation of Nature (IUCN) and Worldwide Fund for Nature (WWF). The most compelling part of his vision is that he wants to build facilities for humans to come and interact and experience and enjoy the wilderness, without destroying it. “It’s a life-producing experience being out there, quite overwhelming,” he says. “All five senses are just roaring. We are building a way for people to access it, for kids to come out and just sit and listen to the sounds and forget about their electronic toys.”

Gerrity knows about the latter: in his previous life, he was a Silicon Valley entrepreneur, founder of a consulting company. He has now returned to his childhood home of Montana and is bringing nature back where it belongs, as the photography on these pages shows.

americanprairie.org

Prairie Heritage – Reintroduced to the prairie in 2005, the bison herd has since grown in numbers

Buffalo Watch – An American West icon, APR seeks to restore the majestic bisons in their natural habitat

The Great Outdoors – Visitors can explore the vastness of the landscape by hiking or even biking

Kestrel Camp – Located on-site, the climatecontrolled tent suites offer an intimate nature experience 5. Western Meadowlark The reserve

Pronghorn Antelopes – One of the few remaining native animals, the migration studies contribute to meaningful research

Nurturing Offspring – Numerous bison calves have been born on-site since the reintroduction of the species

Green Carpet Challenge – The brainchild of Firth has seen strong support from high-profile actresses

What are the greatest challenges Eco-Age faces moving forward?

Each business we work with involves a different challenge. But this is what we do – we help companies undertake what could seem like a huge challenge and make it easy for them! Until last year no one would have thought it possible to connect a Gucci handbag with the cows in the Amazonian forest, and yet we made it happen. Or Chopard’s stunning earrings with the miners who dig out the gold in Colombia. These are processes which take time, but as Caroline Scheufele of Chopard always says, “Rome was not built in a day”!

Rodriguez & Bottletop – The bags are made from deforestation-free leather and recycled aluminium pull tabs

What are the rewards?

Huge. Both economic rewards (to be a sustainable business means precisely this – to save money and become more agile) and social rewards – we all need to reconnect with the people at the beginning of the supply chain. This is what we strive to do at Eco-Age: help brands and businesses to establish this powerful connection.

How are businesses responding and adapting to sustainability challenges?

They are all trying to figure it out, but most importantly they all acknowledge we need to change. This is the first step to change. It is about future proofing a business, securing long term supply of consistent resources, both natural and human, and continually ensuring consumers that when they buy what you are selling, they are making a positive impact.

When clients come to us, we try to help them meet their sustainability challenges and then benefit from those improvements through business efficiency, secure supply chains, reputational benefits and ultimately, increased sales.”

eco-age.com

Campaign Ambassador – Supermodel Candice Swanepoel (left) is the face of the Rodriguez collaboration

GCC Brandmark – Narciso Rodriguez worked with Bottletop Foundation on an eco-friendly range of bags

Industry Support – Firth’s work is backed by industry heavyweights such as US Vogue Editor-in-Chief
Anna Wintour

Oliver Waddington-Ball – The 29-year old ‘eco-preneur’ founded the Goldfinger Factory

Caroline Davies speaks to the London entrepreneur turning junk into art, and supporting his local community and numerous charities in the process 

At the foot of the Trellick Tower, a Brutalist west London landmark tower block that has now become a part-ironic icon of the postwar era, lies a café, community centre and factory workshop. Venture inside the workshop and you will see an eclectic mixture of raw wooden benches and tables, repurposed conference chairs and unique art works including an elongated motorbike and copper piping chandelier.

The centre, called the Goldfinger Factory after the tower’s notorious architect, Ernö Goldfinger, transforms old furniture, bric a brac and other unwanted goods from charities and second hand stores. It then trains and employs local residents from socially disadvantaged groups to turn them into products that are sold in the shop, be that jewellery, art work, metal work or furniture. Artists and craftsmen with no other workspace use the factory’s workshop, located in the basement, giving part of the profits from sales to Goldfinger to carry on its activities, and teaching others the basic skills to get started themselves.

Located on-site, alcohol-free gastrobar Redemption is run by fellow entrepreneur, Catherine Salway

The factory was set up by Oliver Waddington-Ball, a young social entrepreneur with the boundless energy of a puppy. “There’s a phrase that I love,” he says. “Every pound you spend is a vote about how you want the world to be. I think that there is a way of making money that doesn’t mean anyone is screwed over. If one person loses then ultimately we all will.” Waddington-Ball first had the idea for the centre while working as a management consultant, advising companies on how to become more community friendly. He thought it was such a great idea that when the company didn’t take it on, he quit his job and started it himself. He persuaded the council to give him the space, which had lain empty for two years and began building up a business plan.

“The ethos of the factory was there from the beginning,” Waddington-Ball explains. “But the elements developed pretty organically. We found that a lovely lady living nearby does upholstery and needed a space. Someone else was an electrician, another made necklaces. It all just grew from working with the people we have.”

Every pound you spend is a vote about how you want the world to be. I think that there is a way of making money that doesn’t mean anyone is screwed over.”

Old, donated furniture are refurbished by trained hands and then put up for sale

Upcycling, the process of taking other people’s junk and turning them into a thing of beauty, has become the centre’s lifeblood. 1960s sideboards, modish armchairs and art deco inlaid tables are carefully restored and resold, vintage posters are given a new lease of life and old bicycles revived. The workshop has bigger projects too. After creating a bar for London Fashion Week made up entirely of OSB board, the team began reeling in commissions for pop-ups and more recently, outfitting homes for some high-profile clients. The successful musicians, actors, designers and authors from the area – a stone’s throw from chic Notting Hill and cool Queen’s Park – have taken to Goldfinger, buying into the unique stories and objects. It might be being charitable, but Waddington-Ball argues it isn’t just about accruing social brownie points.

“Obviously people like the story behind the objects they buy, but you can’t run a business by making someone feel guilty. They need to want what they are buying, otherwise the idea isn’t sustainable either.” Part of Goldfinger’s appeal is the atmosphere. The sales room may not be polished, but it is seductive, playing off a sense of discovery. The merchandise comes from across London, Waddington-Ball explains; charities send the factory photographs of new deliveries and Goldfinger take their pick, giving the charity the total they were asking for plus a third of any additional profit they make.

Creative mentors train apprentices from socially disadvantaged groups to equip them with lifelong skills

“We make charity sexy,” he says. “Selling pieces with a social story doesn’t need to be done somewhere with a charity shop feel.” Waddington-Ball is not only the force behind the factory, but he is also fast becoming a media lightning rod for the movement. In its short life, the factory has won some of the biggest funding awards and there is even talk of a television series.

“I want to spread the word,” he says. “The project is my baby, but it is taking on its own life now. I want to help people take this concept and use it across London and around the world.”

goldfingerfactory.com

In a few months, Fort Canning in the heart of Singapore will be transformed into the first Asian outpost of the Pinacothèque de Paris. But the heritage site has been a cultural hotspot before, discovers Koh Yuen Lin

Vantage Point – Sir Stamford Raffles saw a safe and strategic location in Fort Canning Hill – Courtesy of the National  Museum of Singapore,National Heritage Board

It can hardly be called majestic, with an elevation of a meagre 60 metres. Yet it has been the favoured seat of power for sultans and governors alike. When prince of Palembang Sang Nila Utama sailed across the stormy seas in the 1300s, he chose the hill – with its freshwater spring and view of the river mouth – as a safe place to house his entourage as he built the new Kingdom of Singapura. And though Bukit Larangan – or the Forbidden Mountain – would be a deserted place covered in dense hardwood jungle and shrouded in myths about ghosts of sultans past, Sir Stamford Raffles arriving in 1819 saw in the hill what previous rulers had recognised: a safe haven, a strategic vantage point, and the nucleus of a city’s growth in more ways than one.

With 11 mature trees on its premises protected under National Park’s Heritage Tree Scheme, and a forest of flora and fauna, Fort Canning is home to a rich ecosystem. Yet few realise that what we see within this city-centre green lung is not just a product of nature, but also human nurturing.

Singapore Pinacothèque de Paris – The upcoming museum will be housed within the historic Fort Canning Centre

Cleared extensively in the 1800s for development, the hill was given back its green coat when Raffles – a passionate botanist and also founder of the London Zoo – set out to create a modern botanic gardens on its ground. This would become a 19-hectare Botanic & Experimental Garden established in 1822. Mimicking styles of Europe’s most important botanic gardens, it was a medicinal plant gardens first, then a showcase for the exotic plants introduced during the age of exploration, and a nursery for potential cash crop – a place where the relationship between nature and culture was explored. Though all that remains of it today is a 2,300 sqm Spice Garden created in 1994 and planted with some of the plant species in the original garden, together with many plants featured prominently in local cuisine, it remains a reflection of Singapore’s blend of East and West cultures.

Another major tree-planting effort the hill witnessed was the development of the southwestern section of the hill, bounded by Clemenceau Avenue and River Valley Road, into King George V Jubilee Park. This would later be expanded and rechristened Central Park in the 1970s, and then enlarged once again and renamed Fort Canning Hill in 1981, officiated with the planting of a fruit tree by then prime minister Lee Kuan Yew – whose vision of Singapore as a garden city has shaped not just the country’s landscape, but also contributed to the economy in intrinsic ways.

Indeed, Fort Canning is more than just a green space. It is a historical site that has stood witness to the changing face of Singapore over the course of centuries. Yet it doesn’t stand still in history – it adapts along with it.

Archaeological finds from excavation sites on the hill continue to fascinate historians with artefacts from when the place was palace grounds for Malay royalty. From delicate Jing De Zhen ceramic dating back to the Yuan dynasty (1271–1368) to 14th century gold jewellery carved with intricate Hindu motifs, each is a clue to the island’s ancient past as a prosperous ancient kingdom.

Fort Canning Gate – Constructed in 1846, the Gothic Gates still stand today as the entrance – Credit: Liisa Wihman

Historical landmarks oft overlooked by visitors whisper of a time when the site played the role of a strategic communications centre for the port city. On Raffles Terrace stands a replica of the original Time Ball: a device that was raised at exactly 1255hr and dropped at precisely 1300hr as a means for businesses, government offices and the larger community of the downtown area to set their clocks to a common time during the early colonial days. In front of the humble Raffles House, a flagstaff stands where a taller wood flagstaff was erected in the mid 1800s. Different ensigns raised communicated to the township the identity, location and status of the ships entering and leaving the harbour, and even the type of cargo being carried and the ship’s last port of call. This told the people when to post their mail and packages sailing for Australia, China, India and Europe, and also indicated to merchants when to head down to the docks for some early bird bargaining. For this reason, the hill was also known locally as Bukit Bendera (Flag Hill) in the latter part of the 19th century.

The many colonial structures – from the Fort Canning Gothic Gates designed in 1846 by superintendent engineer captain Charles Edward Faber, the three-storey neoclassical style building previously used as a military administration building in 1926 and now repurposed as Fort Canning Hotel, to the British Army Barracks that have been restored as Fort Canning Centre – further speak volumes of its past as a fort and military base during times of uncertainty. In the words of Melissa Diagana and Jyoti Angresh, authors of Fort Canning Hill: Exploring Singapore’s Heritage and Nature: “Fort Canning Hill has always played a central role in all aspects of Singapore’s heritage. Whether one is looking for Singapore’s tangible cultural elements (such as buildings, ruins, art works, or landscape) or its intangible elements (such as folklore, historical knowledge, fleeting biodiversity, or inspirations), one’s path inevitably leads to this hill.”

National Theatre@50 – The Singapore Biennale 2013 artwork sits at the foot of the hill, as an homage to the original site

Today, Fort Canning Hill stands in the heart of the Museum Planning Area. Surrounded by the National Museum Of Singapore, Singapore Philatelic Museum and The Peranakan Museum, it is a city-centre location with a heart – and art – beat of its own.

Its grounds play host to a full calendar of cultural events ranging from WOMAD, which has been bringing world music, arts and dance to Singapore since 1998, perennial favourites such as Shakespeare in the Park and Ballet Under the Stars staged by the Singapore Dance Theatre since the early 1990s as a means of reaching out to families, to the multitude of musical performances ranging from punk to pop.

What most do not realise is that the hill was a venue for the arts as early as the 19th century.

When hotelier, entrepreneur, photographer, treasure hunter, and larger-than-life man about town Gaston Dutronquoy took over George Coleman’s two-storey residence sited at the foot of the hill, he also set up a private dinner theatre of sorts. The dining room was transformed into what was quite ostentatiously named Theatre Royal, and it was the stage for the settlement’s amateur actors, including some very high profile members of society such as Singapore’s first lawyer William Napier, prominent merchant Charles Spottiswoode and businessman and magistrate William Read who was, in certain circles, known for his cross-dressing roles.

In 1845, Theatre Royal, this time complete with an orchestra pit, found a new home in the Assembly Rooms built at the foot of the hill where the Old Hill Street Police Station now stands. The building however fell into a dilapidated state within a decade. Post-demolition after 1856, a temporary theatre was erected at the same spot, where fundraising performances for what would later become the Victoria Theatre continued until 1861.

In more recent history, the hill was home to the Drama Centre on Canning Rise, inaugurated as the Cultural Centre in 1955. It was in this 326-seat theatre that many landmark local stage productions – such as Lao Jiu and Army Daze – made its debut until its demolition in 2002 to make way for the rear extension of the National Museum of Singapore. Then there was the iconic National Theatre with its fivepointed façade, 150-tonne cantilevered steel roof stretching up the slopes of the hill, and no side or rear walls. For the 23 years that it stood, the multi-million structure – opened on 8 August 1963 to commemorate Singapore’s self-government – with its 3420-seat hall complete with a revolving stage, was the venue for international performances ranging from the Bolshoi Ballet to the Bee Gees.

Its lush environment a source of artistic inspiration, Fort Canning Hill has also become a natural venue of choice for exhibiting tangible art. At the inaugural 1981 ASEAN Sculptural Symposium, six art installations were donated by member countries and are now displayed throughout the hill’s green spaces. Today, the park remains a creative space spruced with public art installations, such as site-specific works by The Sculpture Society of Singapore.

And just as its role has changed through the centuries with the country, the evolution of Fort Canning Hill as a venue for the arts continues. In 2015 it will welcome a new crowning jewel in the form of the Singapore Pinacothèque de Paris housed within the Fort Canning Centre – the first sign of its metamorphosis into an arts venue of international standards as the Singaporean art scene matures.

So even though it is indeed as Raffles once wrote of Fort Canning Hill, that “nothing can be more interesting and beautiful than the view from this spot,” those who look close enough, and allow the hill to whisper its story, will discover that true wonderment lies right here within this green sanctuary, on the grounds of the living hill itself.

pinacotheque.com.sg

The head of future mobility at the world’s leading luxury car manufacturer predicts that the transformation of the auto market will come slowly, but surely. Herbert Kohler

As a company, as announced a few years ago, we are preparing the platforms of our cars to adapt to hybridisation [the use of electric and combustion engines in the same car]. We have done this with very good results in the [mid-sized] E-Class, but we have to admit that the market has changed a little since: hybrids are not the only way to dramatically reduce CO₂ emissions anymore. Look at the [big SUV] M-Class and you can see that a [diesel] combustion engine by itself can reach emission rates lower than 160g CO₂/km, which is outstandingly good. Nobody would have imagined that three or four years ago.

Still, the latest development is plug-in hybrid technology [where the electric engine is powered by batteries charged by mains electricity] with the S-Class, with preparations taking place to use the technology in other cars in the future. However, that depends on market acceptance, and nobody can realistically claim to predict that. The technology is fantastic and outstanding in terms of the technical challenge and solution; there is no question about that.

But the question is: how does this technology fit in and work from the market side, from the consumers’ side? And there is not only one market. There are different markets – China, the rest of Asia, Europe, the US and the rest of the world. It will come step by step and we are all feeling our way.

There are different opinions in the market. On the one side, you have the consumers who love such developments and are more passionate and committed to sustainability. Others do not care about that sort of thing, or not that extensively. And most people have no clear idea of the technology involved. In itself, this is not a disaster. But there is a tendency to associate with the word ‘hybrid’ – that this means the car has less emissions, that it is cheap but with as good a performance as before, and that there are no restrictions in the package. Most people would like to have all that without the additional costs – it’s a very attractive idea.

An important point to make is that [car manufacturers] cannot survive solely on the purchases of those who are really committed, on the consumers who say, “I really want to have that technology, and I will bear the extra costs because I know it is a positive thing to do”. I would say that they are less than five per cent of the market. You cannot build a business on less than five per cent.

There is a global move towards reducing emissions. China and Japan are in the same situation as Europe and the US. If you sum up the volumes of these countries, it adds up to more than 50 per cent of the world market, so it is clear we have to be guided by that. And then there’s the requirement for high technology and specification, from the Middle East, for instance, and such markets might not be as interested in the consumption side.

It is not possible to predict the future with certainty, as we all know. But we think there is strong movement behind plug-in hybrid motoring technology. I remember seven or eight years ago, when the first realistic ideas were being aired about plug-in hybrids. The initiative actually came from our Van department. Due to some requirements in the US, they asked if we were planning to do a plug-in hybrid. Our response at that time was, “Is this really necessary?”

My reason for recounting this is that there is a lot of development going on and there are a lot of new ideas, so it’s very difficult to say today what will happen in the next 10 years. I do think we will have more plug-ins in the future, because we’ve got good technical solutions without the compromise of additional costs or the lack of driveability. Nobody would want a luxury hybrid car with an electric mode that drives very slowly; nobody would pay for that. We are convinced that the time will come for [hydrogen] fuel cell and hybrid cars and that will bring us additional momentum, not being appropriate at the moment for the entire portfolio. But certainly [compact cars] will go in that direction for the next generation, and it will conquer other segments step by step. The technology is a given, we can do it, but it is also important not to swallow too much from the beginning. We need to do it step by step.

Our biggest challenge in all this is infrastructure [the network of electrical charging points for plug-in cars, which is mostly incomplete or non-existent around the world]. We will not get involved with it because it is not our core business and we are not willing to compete against energy suppliers – that would not make sense for us. We therefore have to rely on those who are more interested in it to grow in that direction. And sometimes there aren’t enough companies who wish to develop in that direction, so there is always an intensive struggle behind the curtain about that. This is one of the biggest challenges, but of course we also have a lot of technical challenges, as with any new technology. On the engineering side we have developed a very good cooperation with Nissan and Ford.

To showcase our technologies on this front is the S-Class [the new large saloon launched at the end of last year] for several reasons: it has autonomous and semi-autonomous driving modes, the most advanced safety features, and a plug-in hybrid solution. It shows everything we can do right now.

Professor Herbert Kohler is Chief Environmental Officer of Daimler AG, parent company of Mercedes-Benz; mercedes-benz.com