I just did a flip through my passport. We are in September, and I’ve been in Singapore a total of 77 days. That’s barely 3 months. I guess the Universe took me seriously when I said I didn’t want to be stuck in Singapore during COVID.

About 2-3 years ago, I told myself seriously that I wanted to have more opportunities in the fine art world. I figured no one was gonna recognise me as an artist if I didn’t first recognise myself as an artist. Noting how much of my time was spent on Instagram, I started from there. I unfollowed almost all influencers, fashion magazines, cute cats; stuff that wasn’t relevant to the current direction I was heading anymore. I realised even glancing an image would plant information in my head, so I removed the chance of me encountering things that would affect my motivation to do better in my art. For example, whenever I see people in cool fashion, I would be inspired to make new accessories, hair and clothes for myself. I would pounce on the idea, losing time for my actual artwork. So I removed that trigger from my feed.

I started following art magazines, artists, residencies, galleries from all over the world. I didn’t know many at the start, but you start knowing more from the mentions of the first few. And now, it has proliferated. I applied for perhaps 20 or so residencies and awards in the last 2 years. Finally, this year, things started moving, and here I am, on my 3rd artist residency in 2024.

A lot of people still forward me reels of people making crochet things. While I appreciate that I was thought of, I feel a bit sad because I have tonnes of ideas I would work on too, if my career was just about making single-use ‘cool’ things to parade on IG. It’s not that those creations aren’t art. It’s just that I have observed being an artist as a career requires an almost stoic, regular practice in a specific area— and not something as general as the medium (i.e. crochet). It also requires a certain discipline to not hop on every inspiration that hits you (and if you know me, I have A LOT), and instead try to work the dry part of the land. I made a choice, and I have to remind myself why I believe in it.

WHAT I HAVE BEEN UP TO

LOHJINAWI Residency in Yogyakarta

I didn’t even get to bring up this residency in my previous newsletter, because it was confirmed only a week before I flew! My residency is supported by The Institutum, a non-profit institution based in Singapore focusing on expanding the horizons for Singapore art by developing relationships with the global contemporary art community. They have several residency opportunities open to Asian artists throughout the year, and also brought us the amazing exhibition Translations: Afro-Asian Poetics this year during Singapore Art Week. (Follow them if you haven’t (-; )

The LOHJIINAWI residency is founded by Alia Swastika, a curator, researcher, and also founder of Biennale Jogja. The other artists in residency are Carla Agustian who uses charcoal as her medium of choice, and Dionisius Caraka, a mix-media artist presenting his work in canvases, installations and more.

I’ve been here 10 days, and it’s been busier than I thought. The angle of each residency is unique, and this one is a mixture of learning the traditional craft from the locals, as well as meeting the many artists in this vibrant Yogyakarta scene. As always, I will do a proper residency documentation round-up (with a lot more details) on my main website after the entire residency, so here is a short preview!

Wayang Kulit Workshop with Abimanyu

We got an opportunity to see the wayang kulit puppets made by the master, as well as experience its creation in a short workshop. Wayang Kulit was awarded Masterpiece of the Oral and Intangible Heritage of Humanity by UNESCO in 2003. While the puppets themselves are beautiful and iconic, the performance shows them only in shadow, behind a screen lit from the back. (I am attending a performance soon, and can’t wait to share more!)

The puppets are made out of buffalo hide, and the craftsman uses small chisels to carve thousands of tiny, shaped holes to give the character life. They are then painted to further resemble the characters they represent. The sticks used to control the puppet is carved out of buffalo horn, and heated so they can bend to follow the puppet’s curvature.

We also tried our hand at chiselling a tiny piece of buffalo hide and painting on it, which took about 3 -4 hours! The master usually takes at least a month to complete a single puppet.

Batik Stamp Workshop with Omah Kreatif Dongaji

I have tried creating Batik before in Singapore, so I was expecting to use a Tjanting (tool for containing and drawing with wax). I was really confused when we spent the first of a 3-day workshop just listening to theory (and I don’t understand Bahasa Indonesia). We were then given the task of drawing our Batik patterns following our Weton (birthday according to the Javanese calendar); each person has an assigned colour, bird, element, and so on. I actually love ancient myths and beliefs, so this was really interesting!

I’m not a drawing girl, so I struggled super hard to come up with a design that ‘could be tessellated’— which I thought was required of Batik. My design features the feather patterns of my assigned bird, element ‘fire’, tree and flowers, in the given numbers 3 and 7 (from my Weton).

I realised we weren’t going to touch Tjanting at all when I saw these stamps. In order to shorten the time used to make Batik, stamps for the wax were created to create patterns on the fabric. I started to see the other workshop participants around me with stamps of all sizes and shapes.

Only then did I realise how little I knew of Batik designs, and how they see the entire, fixed length of fabric as a canvas. Each stamp contained just 1 or 2 symbols. No one was crazy enough to stick 10 symbols in one stamp (cough). And this gave them the freedom to play with the layout, create stories and pictures. I was blown away.

Then I wondered. HOW are we going to make these stamps? Wood carving? Surely I couldn’t learn to carve in 2 days? Until I realised… the stamps were all made of scrap material.

They would cut up scrap cardboard boxes into regular 1.5cm wide strips, then literally GLUE THEM DOWN following the lines drawn on the cards. In more developed countries, we often talk about ‘sustainable’ practices, because we have the luxury of accessibility to material. Without a conscious decision to use less or make the most out of little, we end up consuming a lot. I admire how people who live with less creatively think up ways to stretch the uses of their everyday materials, without having to consciously remind themselves about ‘sustainability’. I find people who practise craft are a lot more inclined to not be wasteful, as we see potential in every bit of material, as I have observed with many crocheters around me.

I was impressed until I realised I was expected to do it too. And since my newsletter is getting too long, I’m going to cut out my long struggle and just skip to what I ended up with.

I can’t even tell you how surprised I am I even managed to muster up the strength to do this. My motif isn’t the best, but hey I am proud I even managed to do this. Look at the colourful reused cardboard I was using!

I’m ending off with the wax test prints I did with my stamp. Please tune in to my residency documentation next month, for the whole long process (plus colouring the fabric), haha!

NEW THINGS I SAW

ARTJOG 2024

Art Jog was great. I am inspired to apply next year. I also love the theme, Motif: Ramalan (Prophecy), and the curatorial statement.

I have a lot of thoughts, but will highlight some works I enjoyed the most.

I find it incredibly difficult for a video artwork to capture me, but this one by Ariani Darmawan did. My first instinct seeing one at a large art show, is to run away (because, sensory overload). I surprised myself by sitting down for this one, and I felt it expressed the theme well. The image above is of the centre wall; there are 2 more angled walls on the sides, so it echoes the layout of a car. The side windows are projected on left and right, out of which you see scenes of the drive, NOT coinciding with that of the main video in which the characters are having a mundane chat about ‘prophecies’. The set-up itself suggests the possibilities of parallel universes resulting from different decisions made, and the conversation in the car further nudges your mind in. Are prophecies self-fulfilling, or what you make of them?

I surprised myself again when I was drawn to the photographic series by Paul Kadarisman; but then again, I’ve always loved order in chaos, something most difficult to get right. The choice of strong lighting for the shadows is bold and creates a pattern and recognizable style. Amongst the mundane daily necessities, you find hints at what the artist might be suggesting, gradually surfacing into your conscious mind. As the artist statement mentions, these chaos present objects without domination or competition, creating a juxtaposition between messages and non-messages.

Tactile work always reach out to me, but I turn tail when it is not immaculately crafted; these works by Widi Pangestu, which were created out of bamboo fibre, bamboo yarn, and bamboo structures were not of that category. The focus on material and the process of manipulating this fibre in various ways is deliberate and creates curiosity in the viewer about the journey of bamboo from history as a cultural symbol and functional material, to it being seen as a sustainable material of the future.

WHAT I’VE BEEN READING

Why A.I. Isn’t Going to Make Art

Link to the article on The New Yorker by Ted Chiang
I posted about this on IGS and it received a few replies that gave me lots to think about. Firstly, I must say that I’m NOT on this anti-A.I.* rampage like some artists who believe it is even possible and are therefore afraid of being replaced. Secondly, like Ted Chiang, one of my favourite modern sci-fi authors, I question the advantages A.I. can bring to society because of the kind of behavior it encourages in humans; is the trade-off worth it? But ultimately, I do agree it is the user problem.

I also think it is this that makes artists feel even more outraged about its introduction— they aren’t actually outraged at the A.I. itself, but the fact that artists ‘like themselves’, that they once stood with, are using this thing that goes against their moral beliefs. The introduction of this technology has drawn a clear, new line between artists who WILL and WON’T use it. It has revealed that the intention with which artists make work are inherently different, that some don’t create because they HAVE to express themselves that way or enjoy the process of creation, but because they want to have a way to SHOW the idea in their heads. If one believes their Idea is good enough, then the technical, physical creation process is just a means of bringing it to existence— and that’s where the divide happens.

*A.I. in this newsletter, and (in my opinion) in the linked article, specifically refers to Generative Image software such as Dall-E, and artists utilizing it to produce visuals that are used as-is or without much manipulation AND presented as an artwork. The example given in the article of Bennett Miller generating a total of hundred thousand images from very specific prompts (targeted to edit the initial generated images) then settling for 20 shows a creative process, and is a good example for how this can still be used to aid a good piece of art.

If you’ve read Ted Chiang, you would know he often uses ‘technology’ or speculates about possible technology in his stories. The point is never the technology though, unlike the classics like H.G. Wells; it is about what kind of human behavior (which has hardly deviated from that of our primitive ancestors) ensues from a situation we have yet to (or will never) encounter, urging us to look into ourselves more.

LAST THOUGHTS

How I was taught growing up, everything required a process. If you want to get B, you have to do A. If you asked any artist, I believe most of them would tell you their dream would be to be sustainable— that is, to find a way to maintain their practice until the end of their lives. Well, mine is, anyway. It’s been a topic I’ve been asking artist friends lately. What is the dream? Get represented? Sell out a solo? Show in the Venice Biennale? Get acquired by MoMA? Then what?

For me in Singapore, I feel there is the ‘A’ you ‘have’ to do to get to ‘B’: creating a sustainable practice. Firstly to practice, you need space. In Singapore, space means money. In order to get money, you have to get a job, or focus on selling (if you don’t have a financial supporter). Due to the high cost of living in Singapore, art made to be sold has to be churned out at a much faster rate to cover your rent (if you don’t have another job). As you churn that time into money into space, you find you have less time to work on projects for personal growth— residencies, education, non-commercial explorations, or even simply to listen to yourself.

Some artists practicing in Singapore have found their own ways to navigate this, but those ways don’t seem to work for me. Perhaps I am too stubborn, or spoiled. I am starting to realise this ‘money’ problem is quite uniquely Singapore. I admire the way artists can live overseas, where space doesn’t have to cost this ridiculous amount of money (of course, there are trade-offs, and it all depends on what you’re willing to give up). Do you have to be rich? Do you have to be famous? Do you have to win an award to sustain your practice? I feel many people forget what they want is ‘B’, as they start believing that ‘A’ is their process AND goal.

And then, I start to wonder— just because we create in an environment that has a high cost of living, does that warrant a higher price in the cost of our artworks? A higher cost of living doesn’t make our technical skill better. Singapore's art-making situation is pretty unique, and I suppose if you can distill that experience into an artwork— expressing this small nation’s loss of multiple identities, obsession with money, Brave New World-esque society— then it is a story worth telling. After all, art goes beyond the technical skill. But are we first capable of telling that unique story of our silenced experiences?

My recent realisation is this: that I want to be able to meet more artists I love, get the chance to speak with and discuss life with them. When I see an artwork I relate to, I wish I can reach through it and give the artist a squeeze on the hand. Sometimes, I get to speak with these people. I believe working hard in my own practice forms a bridge between us, as they understand me through my expression and me, theirs. This dream coincides with that of wanting a sustainable practice for myself, and so in this direction I will head.

Thank you for reading through to the end, again! I struggle a lot with summary.
Happy to have comments; click ‘Read Online’ on the top right corner of the newsletter to discuss (-:’