CALENDAR UPDATES

The lack of immediacy of a newsletter (in comparison to social media) means that I get a lot more time to hem and haw, resulting in many, many half-typed paragraphs that make no sense together whatsoever and get scrapped. However, I decided I should send this out at the end of the year, to wish all of you who still bother to read my newsletters a Happy New Year and a fruitful 2026 spent meaningfully with those who matter to you.

I might be putting this newsletter on pause soon, because I realised I’ve veered off using this as a replacement for social media (i.e. short-form updates), and gone into blog mode. Reading the very informative and professional newsletter of an artist I follow has made me question how personal this newsletter should be. Do people care anymore? Am I oversharing? Should I give more ‘useful’ information? I find that long-form personal writing has not found a comfortable seat in the current world, though it is something I need to do for myself.

WHAT I HAVE BEEN UP TO

Fibonacci: IWC Schaffhausen Commission

This is the first time I have worked mostly remotely on an installation, but I’m so proud of how it has turned out due to my wonderful team. I have always wanted to do a mix-media installation involving ceramics, and very glad Rei Minagawa (Un Studio) was willing to give it a shot.

After doing up the samples, I gave instructions from Japan and my crochet team and Un Studio (as well as Sarasa House Jogja who helped indigo-dye the cotton yarn) came together to produce this work. To see more photos and learn about the concept, click the button below.

New Studio

Because of a video shoot we had to do for the commission, I did up the main part of my studio within 4 days of getting the keys (the day after I touched down in Singapore). I had not even seen the unit before agreeing as I was overseas, but as soon as I opened the door, I knew this was a place I wanted to stay in for quite a while, for the first time in 4 years! Here are some photos of the space, that I’m slowly transforming into my own (with loads of old furniture bought second-hand for cheap— people in Singapore really throw away many nice things).

WHAT I’M UP TO NEXT

Residency: Making & Materiality

I’m super proud and happy to announce that I will be going on my first fully-covered residency, and it is with Delfina Foundation in London. It’s been a long, tough walk getting here. I applied for a different residency with them (did not get selected), but then this one came up— and the moment I saw it, i knew it was for me.

It will be a craft research-focused residency, of which I am part of the inaugural group. I will be in London from April - June 2026, and hope to update more then because I will be doing a lot of writing! If you have any recommendations I should definitely check out in London— please get in touch. I will use the chance to visit Poland too (where my work is exhibiting) so do share about that too!

Group Show: Takamatsu

For those who have followed me for a bit, you’d know I go to Takamatsu A LOT, ever since I first joined as a volunteer in the Setouchi Art Triennale in 2016. I have been very lucky to be in touch with the local community, especially a friend called Lisa, who runs a few businesses right in the heart of Takamatsu.

She has just bought a house on Ogijima Island (one of the islands hosting the Setouchi Art Triennale), and also owns an event space at which I had my solo show in 2024.
She intends to turn the house on Ogijima into an artist residency, but since that will take a while (from clearing out the garden to repairing the house— check out her Instagram for progress updates!), she is starting an artist residency on mainland Takamatsu first— those interested can check out her Instagram page.

Some Singaporean artist friends visited Takamatsu in Spring this year, and we are planning for an art exhibition / private dining experience in March 2026 at her space, Kotomath Hyogomachi, while staying at the residence. I am going to be presenting some new and fun works (quite different from my usual); very excited to be having a chance to play on new ground with new friends! If anyone is interested in participating in Lisa’s residency or doing a show in Takamatsu, I’ll be very happy to link you up.

LAST THOUGHTS

To be honest, the next part is all that has been on my mind the past 2 weeks. But it felt unnecessarily personal, unprofessional even, so I started the newsletter with ‘proper’ updates. For those who are still reading, thank you.

The past 2 weeks, I have been trying to put my feelings into words. Into speech. But nothing seemed right. To be honest, I have never felt more alone in my life, though I do feel lonely very, very much. But now I do know what people mean, when they say grief is lonely.

Memories weigh much. And they weigh even more when there is one less to carry them with. Grief is lonely because you realise that some memories you share with ONLY one person, and when they are gone. No one will ever understand. Not even those who you thought might understand, who you thought know you inside out. Who you thought were a part of those memories. Because you can only share some inside jokes with one person. You can only share one sneaky look that can mean so much with one person.

I was bewildered, frustrated, and then angry. When I went around in desperation, trying to tell everyone who knew him. He is gone. Only to get generic reactions, condolences, even from friends who knew him too. Do you not understand? I wanted to say. I can never talk with him again, laugh with him, text him (though I still do, like an idiot).

I have known him for literally half my life. We met when I was 17, stupid and fearless, and so was he. He was one of my first gay friends, and unapologetically so. He always called me a gay litmus test. “Any guy who gravitates towards you is gay,” he would tease. We always argued about who was weirder between us. We spent an insane amount of time together. Me, who didn’t find a home at home, and him, who was living apart from his parents as a foreign student, staying in school so late we had to climb over the locked main gate to leave almost everyday. After graduation, jobless and depressed, I would cycle 3 hours to his house every weekend, crash on the sofa watching Star World, or go for supper at Mcdonald’s or Mr Teh Tarik where we chatted till the sky turned pale. It is because of him I memorise lines from Mean Girls and sing Beyoncé at karaoke. He was the one who created my Instagram account, snapped the first photo (my face) and uploaded it, when I initially refused to use it. We grew up together through so many hard patches.

And he was absolutely brilliant, or as his father said during his wake— a genius. He could play the piano by ear, and he was part of the founding team of uTorrent when he was still a teenager. As all brilliant people are, he was also flawed. He could be mean and manipulative sometimes, but he was also one of the few people who recognised my abilities in a school of sheep and ego-driven lecturers, and taught me better than they had. We traveled together overseas several times, and the last I saw him (in 2018) was when I stayed with him and his partner in the Netherlands, which was the last place he stayed (and the longest). We talked so often about visiting each other after, but it didn’t happen. I regret that immensely. But I feel lucky that I was one of the very few people who saw and knew his truest self aside from his family. Also because I have, as he says, “an astounding and scary” memory that could blackmail him, a record of all his quirks.

He passed away in his sleep (at 36 years old) in the Netherlands, so I could only attend the wake remotely. I wore a shirt he gave to me ages ago, albeit unwillingly, because he didn’t look nice in it (and complained that it was unfair it looked good on me). Earlier today, my phone gave me a random notification of a ‘memory’ within my chat with him and I spent an hour laughing as I read our chatlog that would make no sense to any one. Our stupid jokes. Hater energy. I had been feeling so sad and confused for 2 weeks, and broken— yes, broken is the word. But reading this, I remember that we had a truly wonderful friendship, which warmed me— and then I felt irrepressible heartache.

Looking back at some messages, I found one in which he told me he loves talking to me, and that no one else can understand. And that he will never not consider me a friend because we went through so much together. But there will always be some guilt and regret; wishing I replied his last text properly, wishing I had sent him my last reply just 1 day earlier.

I miss him so very much. And with this I can confirm these things:

1. I can never, ever be an Atheist. I have always been Agnostic, but I am certain now. The thought of someone just disappearing, becoming bio material returned to the earth; never being able to hear someone’s unique voice and laughter, their little quirks again— no. I don’t believe that just cells and nerve reactions can make us feel and act like this. If I knew for sure I will not be able to meet him again, I would never recover. I still have so many things I need to tell him (including about his wake, and after his wake).

2. I am not afraid of ghosts anymore. Because now, if I met one, I can confirm that the afterlife exists. And that means that I can surely meet him.

3. All these AI and AR generated versions of dead people are pure trash. What an insult on the memory of your important person. How selfish must you be to want to make yourself feel better with a puppet? It hurts so much, it does, but I would never, ever try to recreate him— and I could NEVER. Yes it hurts, but it is from this pain that we know our feelings were real.

I am feeling a lot less heavy now but he drifts in and out of my memory. Grief is such, pouncing on you unaware, hiding in the silliest and most mundane of things. I can’t figure out if I want to have memories of him (like a little painting of us I have) in my space or not. Finally I realise what one of my favourite artists, Yamamoto Motoi meant when he said he wanted to create an artwork to honour his sister who passed away, but he didn’t want to have to look at the artwork forever because it would make him remember the pain. I was so broken I thought I could never make anything with my hands again. The past few days, I have been making very random things, completely unrelated to my artwork. But it’s helping me to heal a bit. It’s making me see the difference between my art, which is led by my head, and my craft— which is led by my hands. My hands are stitching and folding and making, and it soothes a part of me. I do want to show him what I am making though. Next time.