[Photos] Through A Lens, A Legend: Malaysia’s Only “Tok Dalang Cina” Becomes The Subject

On a Friday afternoon in Kota Bharu, a 71-year-old shadow puppet master became the subject instead of the storyteller. Eyo Hock Seng — known as Pak Cu, Malaysia’s only Chinese Tok Dalang and a Living National Heritage — sat before dozens of cameras at Gelanggang Seni as part of a special portrait session tied to a photography exhibition.

Fernando Fong

In Brief

Eyo Hock Seng, Malaysia's only Chinese Tok Dalang, became the subject of a special portrait photography session in Kota Bharu.
His 15-year-old grandson, Adam, is learning the craft, offering hope for a 60-year legacy that nearly faced quiet extinction.

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For most of his life, Eyo Hock Seng has been the one telling the stories. On Friday afternoon, he became the story.

The 71-year-old shadow puppet master — known affectionately as Pak Cu, and recognised by the Malaysian government as a Living National Heritage — sat before dozens of cameras at Gelanggang Seni, Kota Bharu, as photographers young and old took turns framing a man who has spent nearly six decades keeping one of Malaysia’s oldest art forms alive.

The session this afternoon (19 June) was organised as a special event under the In Between photographic exhibition by photographer Eric Lee, in partnership with Canon Malaysia and Lollipop Productions.

What made Friday’s session stand apart from a typical portrait shoot was who was in the room.

Among the photographers were school students, some still in their early teens, cameras in hand, trying to figure out how light behaves in a darkened performance space.

For many, it was their first time handling professional equipment — Canon Malaysia had provided a range of cameras and lenses on loan for the day, free of charge, letting each student find their footing with gear they would not otherwise have access to.

Pak Cu has made hundreds of wayang kulit puppets. Cataracts have dimmed his sight — not his hand.

Wayang kulit’s entire visual DNA traces back to the Indian subcontinent. While it is true that the foundational roots of classical wayang kulit lie in the Ramayana and the Mahabharata, Malaysian wayang kulit focuses almost exclusively on the Ramayana, the result of geography, heavy localisation by Malay-Muslim communities, and cultural blending with Thailand.

(Left) Young hands pressing a carving tool into fresh, unpainted hide — the figure still white, the linework just beginning to emerge. The tools scattered around the hide tell you this is active work, not demonstration.

Pak Cu works meticulously on the painted side of his puppets—a side traditionally reserved for the audience seeking the full brilliance of the performance.

Grace and ferocity, face to face — the eternal cast of wayang kulit. Wayang kulit character design is not decorative — it is a moral and narrative code built into every line, colour, and proportion.

The Next Set Of Eyes

Lim Xuan Thong, 14, was one of them.

A student from Chung Hwa Independent High School in Kota Bharu, she picked up photography just last year at 13.

Friday was her first time at an event like this — and she came with a Nikon.

“I learned about lighting here,” she said, gesturing toward the dim, dramatic glow cast by the puppet screen behind Pak Cu. “And I learned about wayang kulit.”

For Lim, the two lessons arrived together, inseparable — because in a shadow puppet performance, light is not a technical setting; it is the entire art form.

With her was Yue Hew Thong, 19, also from Chung Hwa, who has been shooting since he was nine years old. Friday marked his third event of this kind.

She came with a Canon R50, and unlike Lim, she arrived knowing what she wanted — but still found herself learning.

“I’m planning to upgrade,” Yue said, with the quiet confidence of someone who has already outgrown his first chapter.

Lim (left) picked up photography last year. Yue has been shooting since he was nine. On Friday they stood side by side, looking at the same screen — one still learning what light does, the other already planning what comes next. The gap between them is five years and a camera upgrade. The smile is the same.

This is what it looked like from the side — a stage full of people pointing cameras at two men sitting quietly on the floor. Pak Cu has been the subject of photographs before. On Friday, he was patient about it again.

A dozen students, a dozen different angles — some standing, some crouching, one already on the floor. The puppets hold their position at the centre of it all, indifferent to the attention, as they always have been.

The shot is taken. Now comes the more difficult part — deciding if it worked.

A student adjusting her camera settings in the foreground while an adult participant fires away in the background. No wasted moment in the frame or outside it.

A Master By Any Name

Pak Cu, born in 1955 to a Hokkien family, is touted as Malaysia’s only Chinese Tok Dalang — a master puppeteer in a tradition rooted in Malay and Hindu-Buddhist heritage.

He learned the craft at age 12 by sitting beside legendary masters in Kelantan, eventually developing over 120 distinct vocal tones and establishing his own multicultural troupe, Kumpulan Seri Campuran, which comprises both Chinese and Malay performers.

In 2012, he was conferred the title of Warisan Kebangsaan Orang Hidup — Living National Heritage — by Malaysia’s Department of National Heritage.

He has performed in Thailand, Singapore, Indonesia, Taiwan, Hong Kong, China, and France.

Pak Cu, who speaks the highly complex Kelantanese Malay dialect (Kecek Kelate), also makes his own puppets by hand from cow and goat hide, a process that takes up to two weeks per piece.

At 71, with his eyesight deteriorating, he has had to stop taking custom puppet orders — but he has not stopped performing.

Students watch and photograph as Pak Cu’s troupe demonstrates the making of wayang kulit puppets at Gelanggang Seni on Friday, the intricate figures and tools laid out before them.

The softbox dominates the frame — white, overwhelming, technically in the way. In the background, a photographer climbs higher for a better angle, phone raised, undeterred. Learning to shoot in a crowded room means learning to work around how the light affects everyone else.

On a small screen in a student’s hands, Pak Cu and Adam appear together — the same image the whole afternoon was built around. The student found the frame. Now she is deciding if it is the right one.

Two students lean over a table of Canon lenses as if they were reading a map. Each one bends light differently — and on a day about how things are seen and preserved, that felt appropriate.

A student shoots with a Sony G Master lens, renowned for delivering exceptional high-resolution images combined with beautiful bokeh, making them ideal for professional photography.

The Grandson Who Said Yes

Pak Cu did not come alone.

Quietly present throughout the afternoon was his grandson, 15-year-old Eyo Adam Eyo Seck Gan — a young man whose decision to learn wayang kulit may turn out to be one of the most consequential choices in the art form’s modern history.

For years, Pak Cu carried a weight that few spoke about openly: none of his seven children wanted to inherit the craft.

A 60-year legacy, built from a boy sitting uninvited on a master’s stage, was facing quiet extinction — not from public neglect, but from silence in his own home.

Adam changed that when he was six; he came to the art not out of obligation but out of genuine interest — and Pak Cu has spent his remaining active years passing down everything he knows, from vocal tones to puppet-making to the rhythms of a performance that can run through the night.

On Friday, Adam was there in a supporting role, helping manage the space and the puppets, staying close to his grandfather, and his presence carried a significance beyond logistics.

In a session designed to show young photographers what is worth preserving, Adam was the living answer to the question of why it matters.

Adam works on a wayang kulit puppet as his grandfather, Pak Cu, watches from behind at Gelanggang Seni. The pair wore matching headwraps throughout the afternoon — a small detail that did not go unnoticed.

Adam handles the wayang kulit puppets during Friday’s session, and works on carving a new puppet from hide.

The craft — from cutting and carving to performance — is being passed down to him directly by his grandfather, Pak Cu.

The puppets have been photographed thousands of times. This student wasn’t satisfied with the obvious angle — so she got on the floor. In the background, the figures stand vivid and unhurried, as if they have seen this kind of attention before, and are willing to wait for it.

Adam stands at the centre of a photograph with students from Chung Hwa Independent High School — young people who came to learn photography, posing with the young man who chose to learn something far older.

The Frame That Matters

There is no textbook that teaches a child what it feels like to point a camera at a man who carries 60 years of living history.

Friday’s session did not try to be a classroom.

It simply put the children in the same room as Pak Cu and let the encounter do the work.

For a generation that largely experiences culture through a screen, the chance to create an image — rather than scroll past one — carries a different weight.

The shadow puppet master who has spent a lifetime working behind a screen found himself, for one afternoon, in front of one.

The event was supported by the Kelantan state government, Renai Hotel Kota Bharu, and N4 Camera Store.

A son shows his father the shots he made. Some lessons skip the classroom entirely.

A young photographer captures a dead moth found at the event, which is set up as an impromptu still-life subject at Gelanggang Seni on Friday. Small moments of discovery ran alongside the main portrait session throughout the afternoon.

Eric Lee walks guests through the photographs that started it all, each print a quiet argument for why some stories are worth the effort of preserving.

Pak Cu speaks during an interview. At 71, he remains one of the most articulate voices on the future of wayang kulit in Malaysia.

End of session. Pak Cu, centre, with the photographers — young and not so young — who came to Gelanggang Seni on Friday and left with more than just images.

All photographs were taken at the event by the writer — who also, for one afternoon, learned something about light. Cameras: Sony A1 II, Sony ZV-E1, Canon R6 Mark II. Lenses: Sony 50mm f/1.2 GM, Sony 18mm f/1.8, Canon 50mm f/1.2.

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