We Who Saw Signs

“We Who Saw Signs is a group exhibition that explores doubt by focusing on the transitional…The exhibition proposes the possibility of transversing the boundaries of signification and experience, of the real and the imagined amidst ambiguity and humour. It is an invitation to question authenticity and a declaration to favor uncertainty over coherence, fiction over truth” (curatorial text).

In Gombrich’s concluding remarks of his chapter ‘The Analysis of Vision in Art’ in Art and Illusion (1956, p.264), he suggested that ‘the world really looks like a flat picture, but because some flat pictures really look like the world’. Gombrich was pointing out the intricate relationship between representation in art – art that looks like something that exists – and the world around us;  we measure the beauty of our environment, not just by our personal experiences, but also by what is depicted in art. For example, a first visit to Stonehenge will allow a comparison with experiences of visits to historical ruins, but also images of Stonehenge on travel brochures and websites. To Gombrich, artists, conscious or not, make their art look like or relate to art that have been produced. In addition, we are attuned to seeing the world as constructed two dimensional images: we crop, view-find what we find interesting and more desirable. To traject Gombrich’s thoughts, we over rely on two dimensional images to gather visual information and see the world. Perhaps our insatiable desire and curiosity has led us to simplify experiences into postcard-like two dimensional images like a mental short-hand.

In a similar way, this exhibition suggests occasions and situations that question reality, and how seeing should not really be believing. This exhibitions succeeds in doing so and also stirs our curiosity for the artists’ varied subjects, but also concepts of aesthetics by which we can use to evaluate them.  For example, we may investigate the works against a theoretical concept of mimesis, or imitation of what is real or truthful. The arrangement of the artworks were thoughtful, giving each work the space they deserve; it also juxtaposes similarities and offers contrasts. For example, the works by Adad Hannah and Tan Wee Lit are common because they suggest momento mori – remember your mortality – by the suggestion of a skull image in Hannah’s and obituaries for unknown people in Wee Lit’s. As a result, the viewer may read the same suggestion in Nipan Oranniwesna’s monumental white ‘gravestone’ placed on the floor, or Ho Tzu Nyen’s dark, ambiguous, apocalyptic video. Or Yoca Muta’s video as an environmental warning of our over-stretched consumption of natural resources. Yet the artworks are different in medium and context and were made with very different intents.

The title of an exhibition determines the flavour of the exhibition. To explain the title We Who Saw Signs, we can relate it to the concept of semiotics in linguistics, and human beings’ desire to understand language and how it means what it means. Language, written or verbal, become carriers of meanings or signs in place of natural phenomena, objects and action. For meaning to be constructed, a sign consists of a signifier and signified – the form which the sign takes, and the concept the sign represents, respectively. A sign, say a written word ‘saw‘, may have more than one signified: it can have multiple meanings. This exhibition explores signifiers and the signified, or the suggestion of signs in its various guise: written language and pictograms (Nipan Oranniwesna’s Silent Voice) names (Tan Wee Lit’s The Missed), objects and photographs (Ola Vasiljeva’s Alchimie du Verbe), action (Ola Vasiljeva’s Alchimie du Verbe, Grieve Perspective’s The Heavens Belong To Everyone But The View Above Is Ours Alone) and images (Adad Hannah’s All Is Vanity, Ho Tzu Nyen’s Earth, Institute of Critical Zoologists’ The Great Pretenders, and Yoca Muta’s Mountain). To add to this, the catalogue that accompanies the exhibition can be regarded as the tenth artwork. Pursuing an explanation of semiotics, we can conclude that everything must be a sign, if we intend or read it as such.

The exhibition title suggests that the artists are observers, researchers and masters of signs. The title also encourages the reader/viewer to understand the works by carefully examining the ‘flaws’ or hints of deception; cut apart the visual elements to find meaning of the work. But reading signs, signified, and signifier in every work may be an overtly intellectual exercise, neglecting the aesthetic experience conveyed by the work. What is a sign without emotions and feelings? What is a sign without context or the spring of experiences for our rich imaginations to tap on? Therefore semiotics should be an optional seasoning, to supplement our sensory perception in the company of clever, great works of art.

ICA Gallery , LASALLE, 3 Aug – 4 Sep 2011
The limited edition catalogue might still be available from the ICA gallery. Do write to them directly for enquiries.

References

A crude example of how a sign/symbol is meaningful:
Signifier + Signified  = sign
Rose        + Passion     = Meaningful sign
Chandler, Daniel (2009). Semiotics for Beginners. Accessed 24 Jan 2012 from http://www.aber.ac.uk/media/Documents/S4B/sem02.html

Tan, Guoliang. (2011). We Who Saw Signs. Singapore: The Institute of Contemporary Arts Singapore

Splendid Memory Still Flows Back Into Cosmos… Wow Really

The title of this exhibition is derived, in part, from an exquisite corpse exercise. Exquisite Corpse, refers to “ a method by which a collection of words or images is collectively assembled”. In this instance, an artist thinks of a word, another chips in a second word (or work) in relation and this goes on before the title is coined.

In the same experimental spirit, I thought I will pen my thoughts of this exhibition in relation to a sequence chosen in an equally erratic manner. I begin with the first word that comes to my head when I re-viewed the photographs taken of the exhibition. Then, I opened Rudolf Arnheim’s Art and Visual Perception (1954) and in quick successions picked up ‘random’ words, guided by my subconscious, or sub-conscience. I started with a word (adj.) tangential, because I thought this titling methodology is rather similar to the physical arrangement of the artworks. Certain visual elements (scale, colour, treatment of texture, subject matter) resonate, when the artworks are placed together.  The subject matters  dealt here are eclectic, but yet somewhat related. The works are all different in nature and appearance, each taking different lines of thought. However, they remain central to a hidden set of themes or agenda. For instance, I can identify history/memory, institution, humor and structure in the body of works, or at least a tangent of these. What I assume as ‘themes’ might well be off-tangent to the artists’ intent.

tangential, visual eye. true space.

Visual eye here “refer to someone’s power of vision and indescriptions of the manner or direction of someone’s gaze”. For example, “I have an eye for beauty”, suggests the owner of such a statement can identify beauty because he or she has the ability to judge and evaluate it. In Arnheim’s Art and Visual Perception (1954), he states ten principles, or psychology of the creative eye, that artists adhere, to follow or disrupt. Balance, shape, form, growth, space, light, color, movement, dynamics, expression are sometimes called elements of art. But what Arnheim really did was explain the ten most basic art vocabulary words from a psychological examination. Besides a thematic analysis of the institutional context of a premier (and premium) art institution, the works are references for the visual eye – set pieces where elements of art can be exemplified, talked about, critiqued and internalised.

True space refers to both the physical space and imaginary and experimental space artists create. It also reflects the importance of art practices being faithful to an artistic vision, message or intent. I will pick a few to explain that the largest imaginary space belongs to the viewer, where different interpretations of the artists’ works are allowed. Sia Joo Hiang’s illustrations are hilarious and play with hopes, fears of anyone and everyone. In Spring Can Always Be Here (2010-11), a row of boys queue up, as if for exercise; two phrases “some are called” and “some are too lazy” are reminisce of school where boys are afraid to try a particular exercise and they are accused of being lazy. Like David Shringley, playful, surreal, bizarre and funny, the work can be a critique of social behavior or our subconscious thoughts. The distinction between fine art and illustration is difficult. Like Elizabeth Peyton, or Quentin Blake the distinction is not as important as the artist’s own style, voice and what drives them. In Peyton’s case, it is people and their personalities, idealized portraits and popular culture; In Blake’s case, it is the love of children’s books and imagination and his popularity proven by more than 300 illustrated books spanning his entire career.

Liao Jie Kai’s Mini Spectacle (2011) projects a tiny moving image of fireworks on a tall pillar from a cluster of equipment. At this cluster of video camera, projector and computer, a screen shows a desktop background image of a forest with a large video camera gazing at the viewer. As if his mind is elsewhere, the artist is portrayed juggling different projects in addition to teaching. On the other hand, it presents art as a mini spectacle and the theoretical idea that the camera’s gaze is inverted and re-cast only when it is seen seeing – if you don’t show it, it doesn’t yet exist; yet the work is also about the idea of a spectacle – a visually striking performance or display – being relative to different people. Fireworks to some is just smoke and lights and money burning really quickly;  to others, it represents the right to celebrate; to other others, it represents the pride and glory of a Chinese invention not capitalized and eventually usurped by the Westerners, leading to the downfall of the Middle Kingdom.

Tan Wee Lit’s Making History (2011), features a signboard with the name of the institution, in the tradition of 3-dimensional letterings of the signboards from 1950s and 1960s shop fronts. On one hand, it relates to School of the Arts (SOTA) making history as the first art school for young talents; it is a reminder of the heavy responsibility of the staff and students too, and the larger agenda of the state. On the other hand, it is a critique of craft: the signboards from the 1950s and 1960s were hand-cut while this is evidently laser-cut and assembled by hand. Craft, if it does not make itself relevant by reinventing its material or form  (visible shape, function, or aesthetic appeal), it will become dated, like how this sign appears to some of us. In the uncanny blue, red and aluminum (white-like), it looks very British, reminding us of our colonial history, and inheritance of Western art aesthetics.

John Stewart Jackson’s wall of stacked wood, creates a partition in the space of the gallery. The visitor is required to bow and bend through a passageway in the middle of the wall. A stool is placed in the middle of the passageway, beckoning the viewer to sit, reflect or meditate.  From a distance, the wall resembles layers of rock sediments distinguished by layers of subtle earthy colors. Judging from the condition of the wood, they are either wood left over from wood workshops or unused from a different project. The environmentalist will comment that this work is a critique of our reckless use of wood and the need for sustainable resources. The work may also be a critique of our lack of understanding and appreciation of this ancient, natural material; craft in wood is substituted and replaced by man-made, cheap moulded plastic. In a land scarce, urban country like Singapore, the concept of wood lands and living in the countryside are alien.

The idea of an annual staff exhibition is very commendable for two reasons:  (1) it provides an important avenue where students can see their teachers as role-models, artists and practitioners in their respective craft and enjoying the creative process they too use; (2) the exhibition also signals to the school’s management the importance of allowing these special educators the time and space to practice and exhibit. Despite the possibility that the exhibition primarily serves the students and staff of School of the Arts (SOTA), it also serves to educate a wider public audience. This reaffirms the importance the institution (and by a larger gesture, the Ministry and government) places on the arts; this presentation of exciting, varied art forms are encouraging signs that students of SOTA, and elsewhere are exposed to. I can imagine this flourish of contemporaneity will ruffle the feathers of parents, whom I hope, will slowly come to terms with the thrill of art now, and the challenge that art isn’t just about ‘economic viability’ in the individual sense or larger industrial sense. The art needs to be good first, before  people are interested to support it. And artists do need a long time to become good, just like how architects, lawyers, accountants, doctors, farmers start by doing their rounds and errands – the better ones stay. The others, it is anyone’s guess.

I am really impressed by the effort and quality of the works put up, and hope more people have seen it; and, look forward to the next. In a historical context, this exhibition joins the rank of Lasalle-NAFA staff shows, and sporadic art teacher exhibitions (E.g. more recently, selected artworks from Art and Music Education Conference, Bonded (PKW, ), teachers-as-artists (NIE) or Reframing Sculpture (Sculpture Square)). In an educational context, it reinforces the renewed need for practitioners to keep at their craft, or risk losing their touch.

13-27 August 2011, SOTA Gallery
School of the Arts Singapore
list of artists/educators 
For more information about School of the Arts, visit: http://www.sota.edu.sg

Intimacy

This was my first visit to Yavuz Fine Art Gallery, on the 3rd floor of the former Catholic High School building on Waterloo Street, near the Singapore Art Museum. Singapore has more than one instance of converting former school buildings into art spaces. For example, Telok Kurau Studios, The Singapore Art Museum (SAM), Asian Civilisation Museum on Armenian Street, Old School at Mount Sophia Road, and SAM at 8Q on Queen Street. Perhaps these conversions are viable for economic reasons and urban regeneration. Additionally, the aura and connotations of a school suggest an ambient of learning, respect and authority – useful qualities for art spaces to inherit.

The title and theme of the exhibition is intimacy. Featuring 9 artists, the works range from video, photography, paintings, drawings, assemblages and ceramics. Judging from the year of production, it is very likely that the works were identified or made first, and then curated together. Despite the diverse art forms, the theme and title holds the show well, if not brilliantly. The placement of the works were thoughtful, ensuring that visual elements were echoed or bounced off neighboring artworks; they were well spaced to allow sufficient viewing distance to ‘take in’ the work as it extends, and expand in meaning.

I shall extend in writing my thoughts on three artworks which intrigued me in relation to an expanded definition of ‘intimacy’. Intimacy, most commonly refers to familiarity, closeness, private, an euphemism for a sexual relationship and detailed and thorough knowledge. From the last definition, and the latin root words, intimate or intimare, it also means ‘to tell’, or ‘make known’.

Tang Ling Nah’s Study for Contemplating Waterloo Scene (2011) expresses ‘familiarity and closeness’ through ordinary buildings, rendered beautifully in charcoal. One may not usually associate public spaces as intimate because they are often portrayed as uniform, ugly, cold, corporate, or distant. Ambiguity and ubiquity of public and private spaces are often depicted in her iconic, black and white drawings. Even though they usually represent actual architectural spaces, Tang Ling Nah often tricks our mind, altering and inventing some – they are really her mindscapes – an ordinary vacant scene reprised and immortalized. The psychological effects of space on us, is illustrated and made known in Tang’s work: this artwork lightly captures the bizarre and mixed-feeling we have for arts spaces¹.

Stellah Lim’s Never (2010-2011) consists of miniature portraits. Successfully arranged and placed in antique-like cast iron (or plastic imitation?) frames, they resemble pairs of earrings on display. From far, they resemble rorschach ink drawings, inviting the viewer to analyze and interpret them. The small-scale, and choice of material compels the viewer to examine them closely. On closer inspection, hair is used like thread in embroidery, to create an image; the missing facial features suggest hair is an unyielding material and its inflexibility to be used on small details is unresolved. Nonetheless, the faceless portraits – never identified, never completed – suggests that platonic relationships are sometimes vague, and the character and actions of people are never fully understood. On the other hand, the facelessness may symbolize that the people depicted, or their relationships to the artist, were never intimate. A warning perhaps, of the vulnerability of human relationships.

Taking metaphors to another extreme, Sia Hua Kuan’s arc of multi-plugs resemble a sculpture by Andy Goldsworthy, but with very different found-objects. Like a rainbow, the multi-plugs spill and extend from a socket on the floor. Interpreting the work using the theme of the exhibition, the work could suggest the intimate relationships electrical appliances have with each other. If we have read Philip K. Dick’s (1968) Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? or seen Ridley Scott’s 1982 movie adaptation, Blade Runner, we may sympathize with this interpretation. Seeing the work in another light, we may also say we are over over-sold on electricity and gadgetry, that we are bending our backs from the humble, simple uses of appliances. Read anti-aesthetically, the artist has found a pretty way to display and store those unwanted multi-plugs which have yet found themselves recycled.

On balance, the works in the exhibition illustrated various definitions of intimacy, and artists’ diverse interests in materials and subject matter. While not particularly racy, sensational or controversial, the exhibition is sensible and the artworks here genuinely deserve to be collected and appreciated by their befitting, tasteful aficionado.

6.0 of 10 stars.

Yavuz Fine Art Gallery, 2 – 25 Sep 2011

http://www.yavuzfineart.com/past_exhibitions/intimacy.html

Note: If anyone is visiting the gallery for the first time, enter from Waterloo Street. Even though it appears to be a singular compound for the former Catholic High School, it is divided into two parts, with separate entrances from Queen Street and Waterloo Street.

Further Reading:
The Wall Street Journal Blog, Singapore Artists Fight for ‘Old School’ Landmark, http://blogs.wsj.com/scene/2011/11/23/singapore-artists-fight-for-old-school-landmark/

Endnote:
1. Art spaces is used loosely in this review, to mean a space where artists work and show art. In the text Study of Art Spaces, Chang and Lee suggests arts spaces adopt “ideological rather than (mere) material manifestations”. They elaborate:“‘Spaces with the arts’ refers to spaces that not only accommodate the arts but also embrace them. Within such an environment, the arts are supported and encouraged to develop organically. Simply put, ‘spaces with the arts’ refers to socioscapes wherein the arts reside… ‘spaces of the arts’ are more private, exclusive and individualistic. These are places where ideas are conceived and germinated – the mindscapes of the artists limited only by their imagination and socio-political restrictions.” Chang, T.C. and Lee, W.K. (2003). Renaissance City Singapore: A Study of Arts Spaces. Area, 35(2), (Jun., 2003), 128-141

Following Breadcrumbs by Julie Heather Liew

“The nature of my work tends to bring out the ‘child’ in all of us – that inquisitive, fidgety creature that we often suppress in order to enter adulthood in a socially-acceptable state of mind. The Upper Gallery provides such a personal and intimate environment for viewers to appreciate art in, I decided to use that to enhance the overall experience of viewing my installations and sculptures” (press release).

When the Brothers Grimm wrote Hansel and Gretel in German, they did not predict that their stories would be translated and told in different languages around the world. And neither did concepts of intellectual property exist in the early 1800s. Taking this children’s story at face value, it is a clever and gripping story that perhaps, impart morals:  1) don’t be a glutton; 2) don’t waste food; 2.5) don’t eat food that falls on the table, let alone the floor;  3) siblings stick together.

Fortunately, the young artist Julie Heather Liew has not interpreted or used a similar reading of Hansel and Gretel morals as subject matter for her body of work; instead, she has used a safer ‘growing up’ theme. The artworks reflect several uncertainties, camouflaged by her careful selection of objects and materials used to signify personal meaning. The cliched image of the pointed roof house is repeated as receptacles for objects (and memories) in several works. For example, peering into a wooden house structure in the middle of the gallery, one would find as eggs on hay. In different corners of the gallery, a miniature globe is nested in a concrete pillow; random objects are placed on a horizontal blackboard; alphabet pasta rests on a Children’s Ikea table and chair set; plinths with altered objects stuck on the side and top. Curiously, the “fidgety creature” mentioned in the artist statement (reproduced above) can not be found. Are they the fictitious inhabitants of the said houses or invented authors of the artworks? Would the witch or stepmother in Hansel and Gretel, be likely candidates for the role of the fidgety creature? How about casting Hansel and Gretel as the fidgety creatures? Like Rene Magritte in Personal Values (1951), objects taken out of context will seem absurd. Only to the most determined and imaginative viewer, these become magical.

For her intrepid, experimental body of work, and perhaps first solo show, the artist has been rather productive.  To be blunt, any artist who decides to make art that is memorable, and to survive as a practitioner must consider pursuing a stronger element of craftsmanship and weighted choice of subject matter. Whether the artist sees herself as the victim or the creator of the tale when the breadcrumbs trail ends, now depends on her. Even so, I grudgingly admit that career choices sometimes depends on extraneous factors and tremendous opportunities.

To end, not all grim stories are only for children, are they?  Because, as pointed out by the artist, there is an inner child in all of us. Sculpted carefully and managed correctly, even artworks with a child-like theme would have their appeal and audience.

Sculpture Square, Upper Gallery, 10 – 26 Sep 2011

http://www.sculpturesq.com.sg/Events/Entries/2011/9/9_Following_Breadcrumbs.html

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This text was edited and posted much later than intended. The author apologizes for the lateness.

Within 140 Characters

Next to the Substation Gallery, lies a random room. The sound installation Within 140 Characters went well with the name of the room quite nicely.

140 characters, refers to the the format allowed for posting by Twitter, a hugely successful social media application used to: tell people what you are doing (status update), or a concise and abridged piece of information. It is essentially an effective broadcast media, born from the familiarity of sending Short Message Service (SMS) through our phone’s alphanumeric keypads – a keypad that allows one to enter both numbers and alphabets by keystrokes.

In Bin’s case, twitter, plus a few gadgets, is used to sample and lift twitter posts, and using them (the frequencies of posts and keywords) to control pre-recorded sound. Sound in this case, is audibly noise. Pump these through 5 speakers, you have a bizarre, semi-interactive soundscape. It is semi-interactive because the sounds are pre-recorded and the viewer merely ‘selects’ twitter keywords, and the sampling is automated by software and hardware. Some of these keywords were more relevant to Singapore’s context, such as National Service (NS), others were more ubiquitous (e.g.  the) and related to the internet (e.g. http://).  At face value, the sounds, unfortunately, do not relate to the keywords, and the viewer can only wish for a more subliminal or surreptitious  mechanical intervention.

Nonetheless, with some pretty cool technology used in this installation, notwithstanding the fact that this is an experimental open call, this installation had tremendous potential, if it went beyond the Twitter phenomena and examined a less random sound aesthetics.

5.0 of 10 stars

Substation, Random Room, 2 – 19 Sep 2011

http://www.substation.org/within-140-characters/

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This text was edited and posted much later than intended. The author apologizes for the lateness.

The Hall of Mirrors by Bruce Quek

“The Hall of Mirrors is an installation that resembles an echo-chamber. Exploring the relationship between infrastructure and information flow, The Hall of Mirrors explores how conveyed information is often devoid of meaning and personal relevance. Situated in the gap between information and meaning, The Hall of Mirrors constantly changes and highlights the inexorable nature of time and the unpredictability of the environment. The installation uses publicly available and socially relevant statistics. The occurrence and reoccurrence of these statistics, measured in seconds and in minutes, are synchronised to clocks that constantly alert the viewers of their frequency and reality” (exhibition text).

Reality is distorted in the Hall of Mirrors. Time stops, like a scene in Alice in Wonderland, where the clocks stop telling time. As I entered the gallery, the artist/gallery sitter handed me a receipt with a barcode number. The gallery is filled with clocks, each clock-hand turning and signifying the accumulation of crimes, pollution, human action with each full rotation. Instead of an expected ‘tick, tick, tick’, I seem to be able to hear a continuous ‘fizz, fizz, fizz’, a pause, registering a heart beat paused and a breath held, before the fizzing, low hum buzz continues. Part sublime and part Ikea-like tacky, the cacophony of fizzing clock faces could be quite intimidating. Perhaps because time slipping by, represented by any turning of clock-hands, means I am getting restless, tired and older. ‘Expiring’. Just before I left, my barcode was scanned, and a second receipt indicating my time spent viewing the exhibition was smartly presented to me.

Statistics gone viral, and an orgy of ticking clockworks, the installation created by artist Bruce Quek is straightforward, thoughtful and restrained. He has highlighted a moral dilemma when we deal with publicly available statistics. Raw statistics are pure empirical facts and figures and are non-biased. What implicates statistics, is how we interpret, value and compare them. The interpretation of raw statistics are like measurement lines drawn by ‘experts’ that qualifies and quantifies society. Who are we to question what the ‘experts’ tell us?

The Hall of Mirrors possibly points our attention to two things: firstly, like distortion mirrors in fun fairs, we twist and warp facts to necessarily suit arguments (See Darren Huff, How to Lie with Statistics (2nd ed.), Penguin, 1991.) Secondly, we remain as bystanders to alien injustice, nonchalant to the alarming statistics of human violations highlighted in the work.

Despite some truth behind these statistics, they are ‘too far’ away to tug my emotional heartstrings. The project was perhaps too ambitious, ambivalent when it included disjointed, unrelated numbers. Some trivial localized empirical statistics, anything relevant to the viewers, may mean more, compared with something that is happening inconsequentially on the other side of the world. Some amount of site specificity, or meaningful context would have made a stronger impact. For example, the number of people made bankrupt from stock market speculations, would have had an entirely different impact.

While the technical aspect of the installation worked well on this scale, a deeper science is missing. Finding, using related statistics, according to some scientific, quasi-scientific, if not anti-scientific concept may better relate to the artist’s intent, highlighting”the relationship between infrastructure and information flow”. There could be some underlying theory, social science or physics which could be used to make sense of this statistics. For example some scientific material could be found in Philip Ball’s (2005) Critical Mass: How One Thing leads to Another, where the author applies physics theories to explain human interaction.

But not all statistics on foreign soil is distant. Statistics on carbon emissions, featured in this exhibition, warrant a thoughtful pause. Surely this provokes some action? On the topic of climate change, Lord Martin Rees in his lecture titled What challenges does the future hold for the relationship between science and policy?, admits that the issue for government isn’t as simply as taking environmental scientists recommendations and making policies out of them. Government and politics is far more complex then that. Implementing the policies, without resolution on ‘equity’, ‘way of life’ on this diverse planet is a real issue. The onus, Lord Rees feels, is for scientists make information available to governments and engaging with the public/voters early. As environmental scientists implore governments to take global action, we cannot simply take sides. A call for global action begins with the local and taking small leads with our individual lives. And perhaps, artists (or their professional counterparts) are also responsible to engage with the public/voters, to explain and show how art fits in the grand scheme of things.

7.0 of 10 stars

Substation Gallery, 9 – 30 Sep 2011

Further reading:

http://www.substation.org/the-hall-of-mirrors/

Substation’s reminder: “Click here listen to the audio accompaniment to an experimental essay written for the catalogue of Hall of Mirrors.”

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This text was edited and posted much later than intended. The author apologizes for the lateness.

I have seen the evocative new works by Tang Da Wu twice, once at Valentine Willie Gallery at Tanjong Pagar and again at Goodman Arts centre galley. The first, at the opening and witnessing artist Ben Puah as an unusual candidate for Guest-of-honour, giving his short but heart-felt speech and second, over a cup of coffee with the artist, surrounded by the works.  In the space between the two visits, I brooded over the significance of several ‘gestures’ in the installation. I call elements in his installation ‘gestures’ because they resemble actions in his performances, each with specific meaning and intentions.  The second visit yielded much insight, which filters into my description of the artist’s intent behind gestures of the installation.

First Art Council, may first seem odd and cryptic to those unfamiliar with Tang Da Wu’s enigmatic, magician’s flourish. Why hang slanted paintings, display a monumental painting that refuses to be hung, hang an upside down chair, crowd a room within a room (a transparent ship-like room structure with thick, perspex sheet walls), reference cliches of Van Gogh and dedicate the entire installation to all art teachers and the Singapore Teachers’ Academy for the Arts? The answer may well lie in the chalk scribbles, child-figure plaster sculptures, and figure of artistic influence (and he will deny this), the artist is.

Beginning by decrypting the title,”first art council” possibly refers to a fictitious or mythologized return to a blank slate, a challenge to policy makers to re-examine their arts policy not from an adult economical perspectives, but from an educational perspective – stealing a slogan from the Ministry of Education, a perspective that is ‘best for our children, best for Singapore’. Historically, artists such as Joan Miro, Jean Debuffet like Tang Da Wu and many others,  believed that Children are natural artists. From an educational standpoint (unaware to the artist), philosophers like John Dewey have advocated for Creative Self-Expression, and some educators led mistakenly to believe that children are best left unguided by any formal schooling. Children’s art, innocence and naivety were regarded, or mistaken by some, for pure aesthetic and Art. However, what Dewey meant was children can harness their experiences, putting themselves entirely in the process of making.  Children naturally exude creativity, knowing no biggie rules to break, and expressed themselves freely through doodles if they are permitted and guided to do so constructively. The large ink paintings represents the formation of creative selves, illuminated by facial features that form from the seemingly random ink splotches. From another angle, they resemble magnificent waves, not unlike those depicted by Hokusai. Gazing at these canvases or papers are gratifying in a mysterious way, like peering out the window on a pouring day, barely making out the silhouettes. The starring dragon and phoenix hidden in one of these large paintings, represents the guardians of children. Similarly, the “Jaga Anak Baik-Baik” (loving and caring) portrait paintings by Jeremy Hiah serve as  images of deified bovine door guardians to the exhibition,  protecting the exhibits and watching peacefully over the visitors.

The yellow iron structure intentionally resembles a ship and a room. It is an exhibit for our examination. One child figure intentionally resembles Degas Ballerina figurine, staring defiantly or perhaps longingly at the hand-made paper costume; the other continues to play, scribbling chalk which vaguely reads “Give me back my future”. Both figures are decidedly ghostly and identity-free, so the viewer may imagine themselves or their children in such a situation, wondering, hoping, sailing somewhere, anywhere. The future, if we live long enough to see it, we would like to believe, are in our adult hands. The paper costume represents play and childhood. We can easily imagine that  children today are scuttled to enrichment classes or cram school for math, english and science because parents who could afford these believe they are giving their children a head-start in a high strung, competitive world. In most cases, the arts become marginalized in a schedule packed with tuition. The wild yam plant is destined to perish or be discarded by the end of the exhibition. Though not intentional, it could symbolize the futility of this arbitrary future, unless something is done about it.

The chair, is similar to the one depicted in Van Gogh’s Chair (1888). The reference to Van Gogh and Impressionism signified the canons of Western Art.  By hanging the iconic chair upside down, the artist wanted the viewer to interrogate these canonical influences, turning them on their head and viewing them with a fresh perspective. Impressionism became the scapegoat because Impressionists artworks are often regarded the most widely reproduced images of Art. Ask any schooling children if they can name any artwork, they would probably name an impressionist artwork.

The dedication of an installation to art educators was no mere coincidence. Herein lies a challenge by the artist, to educators and parents to steer the future of our children, by bringing play and creativity back. A simple task, if only parents ordered our priorities with developing the whole child in mind. But the artist might be preaching to the converted, moreover, art educators are often constrained by their circumstances. But aren’t we all constrained, in one way or another?

An avant-garde artist and inspiration to many, Tang Da Wu’s latest refreshing installation First Art Council, scores a few first – large scale, a wet-on-wet ink technique last seen in the head series; a contemporary artist recognizing the work of art educators in Singapore;  the largest stretcher assembled locally and held by tape. In the second exhibition, the artist took the shrewd decision to banish the canonical Van Gogh chair, and other references to Impressionism. This to me, is already taking matters into our own hands and a step in the right direction to establish our pride, our future in local art.

First Arts Council by Tang Da Wu@VWFA Gallery

Next Chapter: First Arts Council by Tang Da Wu @ Goodman Arts Centre Gallery

Valentine Willie Fine Art Gallery, 5 – 28 Aug 2011
‘Jaga anak baik-baik’, Goodman Arts Centre Gallery, 8 – 14 Sep 2011

Recommended Further Reading:
Press Release by VWFA: http://www.vwfa.net/tangdawu

Lee Wen’s article, The Aesthetics of Didacticism on First Art Council: http://republicofdaydreams.wordpress.com/2011/08/07/the-aesthetics-of-didacticism/

An interview with the artist on one of his earlier works: http://www.drawingoutconversations.com/

Kwok Kian-Woon, The Stakes in Contemporary Art: Tang Da Wu’s Artistic Practice as Exemplar, Moving Worlds: A Journal of Transcultural Writings, Vol. 10, No.1, 2010, University of Leeds, http://www.movingworlds.net

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This text was edited and posted much later than intended. The author apologizes for the lateness.

Old Kallang Airport, for those old enough to remember, was Singapore’s first civilian airport, decommission in 1955. It then served as part of an expressway, headquarters to People’s Association, used-car sale rooms, racetracks for weekend Radio-controlled car rallies, recreation venue until sometime in 2009, and a venue for the Singapore Biennale 2011. Old Kallang Airport is an icon of Singapore’s geographical, cultural and urban landscape. In its heydays, it connects Singapore’s sky to faraway places; as the head office for people’s association it provided numerous subsidized venues for Singapore’s amateur cultural groups; it remains an architectural feature, announcing the prominent, once fashionable Art Deco style of the 1920s and 30s.  In its current state, it reminds me of a broken toy, too precious to discard, too broken to be played with satisfactorily. The installation work by Michael Lee, Office Orchitect: K.S. Wong (2011) is most apt and best describes urban planners’ intense love-hate relationship with relic or derelict buildings, balancing Singapore’s past, present and future constructed architectural environment.

When K.S. Wong, the persona of artist Michael Lee, remarked that “Buildings are made of piles of butter” , he meant it as a critique of buildings in Singapore – buildings in Singapore are demolished as quickly as butter appears to melt. Just as paper as a building material suggests disposability/recycling, impermanence, experimentation, perhaps so are buildings not protected by conservation in Singapore. While the politics and narrative of space remain to be played out, the absence of detailed client briefs, creature comforts of commercial offices prevent us from plunging into the make-believe completely. What we can admire, from the onset and with untrained architect eye,  are the incredulous architectural models that stretch our imaginations about living spaces those lived or conceptual architectural spaces.

The body of work, in the form of a make-believe studio-office-home, surpasses Psychotaxonomy (2009), a solo exhibition at the Baba House, and works shown at Art Stage (2011).  It culminates his enduring interests in using paper and its derivatives (e.g. cardboard, carton etc) as materials for art, allure of polarity or ambiguity between fact & fiction, his fascination for monuments and architecture, and his attention to using concept maps to replace what words find difficult to relate and illustrate.

Another work that relates to Old Kallang Airport, is John Low‘s curiously titled installation, I’ve been Skying (2011). Inspired by and a tribute to the iconic Singapore River, the installation consists of fragments, artifacts, books, articles, sketches, borrowed artworks and parts from earlier artworks. John Low’s installation is constructed to resemble a lived space, and is akin to John Constable’s process of observing clouds. Like clouds, the meaning of the installation transmutes across the span of the installation – a research and inspiration space filled with book cases, a thinking space, a painting space, a writing space and an exhibition space. It alternates between a serious contemplation on the authenticity of art, and a play of meaning and purpose of art. To this end, the title of the work might well be “I’ve been skylarking”, playing tricks or puns like how Duchamp did with Étant Donnés (c.1969).

This installation displays in parts, and relate to John Low’s  earlier works, Ghost Stories (2009) series and Landscape (1997). Ghost Stories (2009) series consists of large, plan size, enlarged photocopies of newspaper archive articles, reporting on ghost sightings in Singapore. Fact, fiction and myth are confused in this age where documents are easily digitally manipulated and doctored, and these article’s authenticity are doubted. These photocopies are also displayed in the installation, along side floor arrangements of burnt charcoal or charred spherical objects. Owing to the proximity to these oversized newspaper articles, one can almost imagine the burnt objects have spontaneously combusted by uncanny forces. Like Landscape (1997), charcoal as a substance, signifies the basic element of life (carbon), birth, ‘re-birth’ or regeneration and death. Perhaps the artist wanted art to function like the uncanny and magical, transforming minds and lives like religious transubstantiation.

Like the Singapore River, the muse for many artists, the concept of ‘waterways’ and ‘island’ remain central to Singapore’s sovereignty and identity. Another modern magical facility, forgotten and underrated are Singapore’s reservoirs, storm drainage and sewage. Charles Lim’s All Lines Flow Out (2011) consists of a video and two nets hanging from the ceiling, droplet-like only magnified, filled with dead leaves. Relating to Singapore’s waterways  - canals and our beloved Singapore River – a romantic interpretation would be to see them as tear drops, symbolic of nostalgia. An environmental interpretation would be to see them as a reminder of the price of continual land reclamation at the cost of nature, or in this case, marine life.

The video shown navigates these forgotten waterways presenting an augmented viewing experience in an elegant, unusual high-definition and uber-landscape format. This video is fantasy, documentary and abstract rolled into one. One part fantasy, it unfolds a narrative of a young man who possibly works cleaning the canals. In the magical realism tradition, with a meta-narrative of a narrator or cinematographer, we are taken on a journey through the canals and waterways, seeking the sea and metaphorical freedom. One part documentary,  it is a celebration of our water-ways like Venice, only under explored.  Bits of the video probably featured the Kallang River, near the Old Kallang Airport. One part abstract, the pictorial contrast between light and dark, beaming night cityscape and construction sites, picture rivers and drains as ‘drawn’ lines in our landscape. Physical space is ultimately condensed, digitized and re-presented.

We are left uncertain if the protagonist is the narrator/owner of the abandoned house by the sea, the young man in the film, or artist himself. Fitted into Charles Lim’s larger interest, Sea Stories, they form a cogent and beautiful statement about the price of land, sea and a nation built by sea trade.

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This text was edited and posted much later than intended. Originally conceived as comments to accompany a special tour on Singapore Artists at Old Kallang Airport site, they have since been reorganized and redeveloped as a written piece. These 3 artworks were selected because they display strong unique aesthetics decisions; they convey sentiments in relation to space and identity or relate to Old Kallang Airport and notions of site-specificity.

Further reading:

Singapore Biennale 2011 artists: http://www.singaporebiennale.org/artists.php
Young Art Writer’s Programme, SB2011: http://blogs.todayonline.com/forartssake/tag/young-art-writers-programme/
Michael Lee: http://michaellee.sg/ and http://www3.ntu.edu.sg/chronicle/archives/vol17no09.pdf
John Low: http://www.myartspace.com.sg/Pages/artists_in_residence/John_low.html
Charles Lim: http://charleslim.org/

The human face appears to be the obsession of Korean artist Hyung Koo Kang, whose exhibited paintings are mostly portraits depicting this particular body part. Each canvas is a close-up of a face rendered in a photorealistic manner, and the faces painted include those of Hyung himself, and of well-known figures such as Marilyn Monroe, Andy Warhol, Princess Diana and Mao Zedong, just to name a few.

One of Hyung’s quotes printed on the wall of the museum reveals Hyung’s opinions of the human face, seeing it “… As the single body part that most effectively represents a human being, the face is unique, without a double and serves as the primary means to identify a person’s identity apart from another” (extract from wall text). What is the identity of a person then? Is it merely how he or she looks, or something more? Does it include his or her experiences and life stories? Hyung’s portraits are perhaps an exploration of this idea of identity, that of famous personalities, common people and himself.

Many of us may know bits and pieces of the lives of well-known people we so often see and hear about, whether through conversations with others, the media, or in books. Viewing Hyung’s portraits of those familiar faces, it is inevitable that various facts or stories concerning the subject matter come to mind. In Vincent van Gogh in Blue (2006), for example, Van Gogh’s mutilated ear portion is stitched back, a detail that prompts one to think of Van Gogh’s life. Van Gogh resembles a brooding movie character captured under a blue filter in the painting, and his cold, steely gaze, intensified by the dominant use of blue, is reminiscent of the piercing gaze of van Gogh in his own self portraits.

Several portraits, such as Old Woman (2003) and man (2004), depicts unnamed people, probably a representation of the common man and woman, who are outside the realm of fame. Confronted with the portrait of a stranger, with knowledge of only how he or she looks like, several questions may surface in one’s mind. Who are these people and are they real, or simply a figment of the artist’s imagination? What kind of life do they lead, what stories do they have?

​Hyung’s self portraits depict the artist in various states of emotion, with each painting bathed in a different colour. The composition of the paintings is tightly cropped, isolating the face from the rest of the body. One can imagine how the artist has probably spent much time observing the details of his face, perhaps staring into the mirror or taking photographs to familiarize himself with every inch of his face, while translating what he has observed onto the canvas. In Self Portrait (2010), an enormous painting made up of 3 canvases with Hyung depicted in bright red against a yellow background, the words ‘only one’ are faintly visible above Hyung’s signature at the bottom of the painting. Perhaps, his self portraits are painted to establish his own unique identity, a reminder that there is only one of every single human on earth, each with his or her own features and stories.

​Hyung’s refreshing use of a dominant, monochromatic colour render the faces in several paintings like photographs captured with coloured cellophane stuck over camera lens. One is invited to think about the possible meanings of the colours chosen, and how it relates to the subject matter being portrayed. For instance, is purple a reference to royalty and nobility or a certain deprivation in Diana (2010)?

The use of aluminium as the painting surface for several paintings is something I have never seen before, since canvases or wood seem to be more conventional, so this is an eye-opener for me. The material allows each strand of hair to come to life with its silvery quality, as can be seen in Monroe in the night sky (2010), where the wind-blown hair complements Monroe’s playful expression in the painting.

The Burning Gaze, while prompting one to think about what the human face can represent, is also a feast for the eyes. The photorealism of the paintings are impressive, inviting one to take in the details of each painting slowly and admire its beauty. The large size of the paintings commands one’s attention, and the imposing presence increases the impact the paintings have on the viewer. Both qualities contribute to the beautiful paintings that are worth several visits and are hard to forget.

Singapore Art Museum
14 October to 25 December 2011

Review by Ngiam Li Yi

Singapore Survey 2011: IMAGINE MALAYSIA

Singapore’s separation from Malaysia is remembered differently by the inhabitants of the 2 nations.  Many Singaporeans above the age of 50 would remember it as a teary exit, leading to Singapore’s independence.  Malaysian politicians on the other hand,  felt threatened while the guy in the street felt non-chalant about the way wind blows.  The 2 countries are more intertwined than just historical and political affiliations.  Malaysia was also Singapore’s cultural hinterland and shared similar immigration of artists from both the West and Asia. Many ‘pioneer’ artists Singapore claimed as its own too practiced in Malaya. Malaysians work in Singapore and contribute to our economy and society in more sectors I can name.

In this exhibition, Singapore artists’ have been given a task to respond to Singapore’s relationship to our neighbor up north. What transpired were bona fide, personal interpretations of diverse media. The exhibition is eclectic, consisting of paintings, photographs, videos, assemblages and live performances, demonstrating the richness of artistic expression. But the arrangement of works appear scattered and as a result not shown in their best light.

A few loud artworks stood out.  Malaysian-born-Singaporean Heman Chong’s work melted the nostalgic sentiments to reveal feisty reactions on art and social grounds. The self-deprecating humor heightens the tensions between the two countries and questions the possibility of artistic and cultural exchanges.

Like the first annual Singapore group show, a local Contemporary Art Survey, the air-conditioned recession in 2009, this exhibition reframes looking inwards by looking north. If artworks reveals self-identity, than this exhibition collectively reveals Singapore artists’ interpretation of our national identity. Whether or not these messages are poeticised, or politicised would depend on the viewer or reader.

Valentine Wille Fine Art Gallery
Helutrans Artspace, Tanjong Pagar,
20 Jul 2011 – 04 Aug 2011