Dr Simon Soon: “’Contemporary’ is having one idea ricocheting through a field of possible connections, unsure of what forms it might land on.”
Insights on the evolution of Southeast Asian art from the modern era into the contemporary
Dr Simon Soon is a scholar and curator whose research focuses on 19th and 20th century art and visual culture in Southeast Asia. He has curated major exhibitions such as ‘Bayangnya Itu Timbul Tenggelam: Photographic Cultures in Malaysia’ (2021), and ‘Love Me in My Batik: Modern Batik Art from Malaysia and Beyond’ (2016) for ILHAM Gallery in Kuala Lumpur. Simon is also currently Lecturer in Art History and Curatorship at University of Melbourne.
In this interview, Simon offers his insights on the evolution of Southeast Asian art from the modern era into the contemporary. The topic is addressed from multiple perspectives, touching on Simon’s experience as an educator teaching art history as well as his involvement in publications that enrich the discourse.
You describe your research interest as “approaching art history from below”. What do you mean by that?
I suppose this idea of approaching art history from below is about an orientation and a vantage point. It stems from the fact that I do not come into the field of art history by happenstance entirely. Reading art history, developing artistic research, and sustaining curatorial practice are often seen as inter-related but clearly distinct fields in the study of art. However, I would like to propose how these seemingly disparate parts contribute to a sustained inquiry into the connected or intersecting cultural histories of specific forms and ideas.
Professor Patrick Flores in his essay, “Curatorial Circulations in Southeast Asia” for Yishu: Journal of Contemporary Chinese Art and Professor TK Sabapathy in his curatorial notes for the exhibition Intersecting Histories: Thoughts on the Contemporary and History in Southeast Asian (2012) at ADM Gallery, School of Art, Design, and Media at the Nanyang Technological University in Singapore, have discussed how exhibitionary and curatorial practices serve as effective methods for exploring new ways of understanding.
I am also fascinated by how different modes of “seeing” can generate “imagistic” power that may not be fully comprehensible through the theoretical frameworks commonly used by academic art historians. This suggests the need for alternative approaches to interpretation.
You recently joined the University of Melbourne, after teaching for eight years at the Faculty of Creative Arts, Universiti Malaya in Kuala Lumpur. How has your perspective/approach on the teaching of modern and contemporary Southeast Asian art changed over time?
For the past eight years, I taught two subjects in Southeast Asian art history: Modern Southeast Asian Art and a survey of Art and Architecture of Southeast Asia. I believe these subjects were inherited from the late artist, curator and art historian Redza Piyadasa, who founded the Visual Arts Programme at Universiti Malaya in 2003. Modern Southeast Asian Art explores the region’s modern art in relation to its social, political, and economic contexts from the 19th century to today, focusing on narratives of “worlding”. The survey course examines Southeast Asia’s diverse cultural histories over 2000 years, emphasising connections with global cultural influences. In both instances, the focus is to challenge the idea of Southeast Asia as a fixed region entity.
Joining a new university is an opportunity to take a step back from a regionalist approach centered on Southeast Asia as a geopolitically determined configuration. It allows me to see how my understanding of the region can contribute to the teaching of more connected or comparative art histories. I look forward to working with colleagues to deliver subjects that foreground a more Asia-Pacific focus as well as a study trip to Indonesia and Singapore.
You are a co-editor of Narratives in Malaysian Art Vol. 4, the final volume in the series which was published in 2019. In your observation, what are important shifts in the discourse on Malaysian art from the modern period into the contemporary?
My main role in Narratives in Malaysian Art Vol. 4 which has a focus on “Perspectives” was to prospect different ways in which art history of Malaysia has been written and direct readers’ attention to some of the issues that have been foregrounded by colleagues in the field. Towards this end, we have present-day researchers reflecting on seminal texts that have by and large shaped the tenor and tone for what we understand loosely as Malaysian Art.
We also featured new writings that problematises the category of what counts as Malaysian art (Ray Langenbach), discusses the challenges to our understanding of knowledge that new media raised (Roopesh Sitharan), spotlight colonial women artists as an occluded category of artistic agents within Malaysian art history (Yvonne Low), and also discusses how the “revolutionary” image is missing from how we write Malaysian art history (Au Sow Yee). Collectively, they raise questions that challenge the idea of the nation, imagining new connections, perspectives, and positions that could create a more inclusive and meaningful art history for future generations. In turn we see how the shift from modern, with progress idealised as a linear and singular narrative, into contemporary discourses that recognise that the narratives of Malaysian art are always already plural and sometimes even playful.
As a follow-up to the previous question, do these shifts play similar roles in the development of artistic styles in other regions in Southeast Asia?
I suppose it would be a reckoning with what the national or one’s locality means through form-making or form-expressing. As such, it is also about the kind of artistic genealogy one is constructing. To paraphrase the title of Paul Gauguin’s 1897 painting, this requires us to ask ourselves: where do I come from? What am I? Where am I going?
I like my long-term colleague Professor Roger Nelson’s idea of tentacular thinking, which draws on Mieke Bal’s concept of the unfaithful octopus where the adaptive agency of artists, curators and researchers are foregrounded. This concept posits that artists, curators and art historians are giving themselves the permission to connect with a wide array of timelines, materials, histories. The purpose is to spotlight their comparative value or bring them into collision to produce a different way of seeing how we understand ourselves, through often playful means.
I believe this is something that is happening not just across Southeast Asia but also more broadly across an increasingly connected world. In doing so, we might take on a much more fluid definition of locality and how it shapes our sense of self and belonging in this world. Therefore, it also informs how we think through images and communicate through forms that are not necessarily wedded to the discourse of the nation or any easily identifiable framework. This uncertainty may be a cause for consternation and anxiety for an earlier generation of scholars who came into art history through the certitude of modernism. Scholars, artists and curators working today are departing from many more diverse vantage points.
What does the term “contemporary” mean to you?
I believe the composite is a methodological principle that undergirds many of the things I do. This principle has a long history in the study of art. One could trace it back to German art historian Aby Warburg’s Atlas Mnemosyne, which is given a low-brow update in the form of a Gen-Z vision board. It is not like I do these vision boards particularly well, but it fulfils the type of angin (wind) that courses through me. In the East Coast of West Malaysia, the concept of angin as channels of desire that shape personalities speak to an idea of how we are driven and motivated by inner winds of desire. A vision board as an approach allows me to connect this concept to the Germanic concept of geist or spirit in some tenuous way although the worldviews that these concepts emerge from might be continents apart.
It helps me to think about possibilities of connection which is the hallmark of the contemporary. It does not have the certitude of a clear explanatory grid which is the attribute of modernism in all its idealised systemic and structural purity. It makes for a more amusing and fascinating world if we are willing to let ourselves go a little. I like to think of the contemporary in this way: one idea ricocheting through a field of possible connections, unsure of what forms it might land on. It is an imagistic form of thinking that has certain power and resonance.
From your observations, how have Southeast Asian artists adapted to the shifts between these two art historical periods?
There is no easy answer to the question. However, we can begin to understand the complexity of this shift through a report on the “Terminologies of ‘Modern’ and ‘Contemporary’ Art in Southeast Asia’s Vernacular Languages” (2018) published by the journal Southeast of Now: Directions in Contemporary and Modern Art in Asia, which I contributed to. In my section, I reflected on Ismail Zain’s 1980 lecture “Seni dan Imajan” (“Art and Imagery”), which outlines a way of seeing that characterises artistic forms in our time.
Ismail Zain contrasts two types of artistic vision: “syncretistic” and “analytic”. The “syncretistic” vision embraces everything at once, drawing from diverse cultural references across time and geography, blending art, craft, and popular culture. This store of cultural resources was viewed as the inheritance of the contemporary artist. In contrast, the “analytic” vision focuses on one specific point and maintains neat distinctions. Learning to see the world in “syncretic” terms also then leads to the recalibration of our understanding of art and culture. In doing so, Ismail Zain proposes that the re-imagination of creativity in the contemporary era challenges the power of modernity and colonialism in shaping the production and reception of art.
Leong Puiyee: “Being a part of Southeast Asia, it is only natural to highlight the stories from the region.”
Understanding short films as an artistic medium for storytelling
Leong Puiyee is senior manager at Objectifs – Centre for Film and Photography, a non-profit visual arts space in Singapore. With more than 15 years of experience in the field, she curated the ‘Women in Film’ and ‘Asian Film Focus’ annual programmes at Objectifs, and was also Programme Manager (Short Films) for the Singapore International Film Festival (2014-19). She has also been a member of the selection committee for the Busan International Film Festival (2023), Bangkok ASEAN Film Festival (2020-21), and SeaShorts Film Festival (2017-18), among others.
What is it about the medium of film/short films that sustains your interest?
Film is a reflection of life, our emotions, the people and world around us. Being immersed into a world for that 10 minutes or 2 hours allows us to feel sad or happy, to ponder about certain social issues, to understand a culture that we are unfamiliar with. To me, that is the beautiful thing about film, as sometimes you do not know what to expect when you are in that world for that time period.
The Objectifs Film Library is an educational and research resource focused on short films from Southeast Asia. Could you talk more about the approach to this collection and the public programming around it?
The Objectifs Film Library collection was started with a focus on short films from Southeast Asia, and to bring attention to the importance of the short film medium. Being a part of Southeast Asia, it is only natural to highlight the stories from the region.
As part of the Library’s focus on short films, a programme we organised around it is the Objectifs Film Club. The Film Club is a quarterly event that highlights a short from the Film Library, and it features discussions between the filmmaker and arts/film practitioners about their films.
We also did an exhibition titled ‘Objectifs Cinema: Now Showing’, to celebrate the richness and diversity of Southeast Asian short films from the Film Library. Selected short films were screened over the course of the exhibition based on a thematic approach. There were public talks with film professionals to complement the exhibition.
Through these programmes, it offers the opportunity for filmmakers and enthusiasts to gather and exchange ideas.
You have curated a number of film programmes such as ‘Women in Film’ and ‘Asian Film Focus’, and was also Programme Manager (Short Films) for the Singapore International Film Festival from 2014 to 2019. What is a trend you noticed in organising these events?
Because the world and people are constantly changing, the stories that people are telling tend to be a reflection of the times. Personal stories continue to be a constant in the film landscape, as it is a rumination of the filmmaker’s self and life.
Objectifs collaborated with S.E.A. Focus on the film screening programme ‘OFF Focus’ for this year’s edition, and will be doing so again in 2024. How do collaborations with art platforms such as S.E.A. Focus align with Objectif’s mission of fostering dialogue and advancing appreciation of visual storytelling?
Collaborating with a partner like S.E.A. Focus is an important part of what we do at Objectifs as it not only allows us to support artistic networks, but to also foster a dynamic and creative environment for both parties.
Building on the previous question, can you talk about the differences and/or the draw of artist-made films as compared to those made by filmmakers?
The wonderful thing about the film medium is that it can offer a breadth of perspectives and there can be many ways to present an idea or story. With the ‘OFF Focus’ programme, it allows us to present works that challenge our understanding of storytelling, and to broaden one’s outlook on films.
What are your hopes for the future of short films in Singapore and the region?
I hope that the short film medium can be seen as an art form in its own right, breaking away from the notion that short films are a “stepping stone” to a filmmaker’s feature film career. Short films are more than that. It allows for experimentation, play and you can take more risks with short films compared to a feature film. And of course, I would wish for more people to embrace and appreciate the beauty of short stories.
This interview has been edited.
Robert Zhao Renhui: “Nature is not what we can dominate, but what comes through when we cannot control it.”
Singapore’s representative at the 60th Venice Biennale
Robert Zhao Renhui is a Singaporean artist who explores the complex and co-mingled relationships between nature and culture. While he first received critical attention for his photography works, Robert’s practice now encompasses installation, video and sculpture. One approach often employed by the artist is to utilise convincing narratives to invoke doubt in the audience. As such, he plays with concepts of truth and how it is portrayed.
Currently, Robert is representing Singapore in their national pavilion at the 60th Venice Biennale. Titled ‘Seeing Forest’ (2024), the presentation is a collaboration with Haeju Kim, Senior Curator at Singapore Art Museum (SAM). It is a culmination of Robert’s nearly decade-long research into secondary forests in Singapore, compiled from hundreds of hours of film footage. An earlier work exploring the same themes was exhibited at S.E.A. Focus 2022, with his photographic triptych ‘An Eagle Returns, Day 322′ (2020) depicting a changeable hawk-eagle drinking water from an abandoned container in a former military compound that has now been reclaimed by nature.
In this interview, Robert speaks about his experience in Venice as well as recent projects that ‘Seeing Forest’ builds upon.
As you look back on your artistic journey, was there any project/exhibition that became a turning point in your practice?
With every new work, I challenge myself to try something different, so I would not say that there is a specific turning point in my practice. But I have been making more video works in recent years. Something that required me to shift gears mentally was when I started doing multi-channel works, beginning with ‘Evidence of Things Not Seen’ (2021). Narratively, the use of multiple screens allows for more resonances, juxtapositions and “visual” open-ended storytelling. It has also allowed for a more ambitious scale for my installations.
Last year, you were commissioned by Esplanade – Theatres on the Bay to produce ‘Albizia’ (2023), an immersive performance installation that recreates one of the secondary forests in Singapore. Are there learning points from this production which informed your presentation in Venice?
Although both ‘Albizia’ and ‘Seeing Forest’ draw on my research on secondary forests in Singapore, they are very different projects. ‘Albizia’ was an immersive theatre production with timed entries and exits, and my aim was to create a dramatic and highly theatrical space where the set design played a major part. Hence, there was heavy use of landscaping to create the environs of a tropical forest, and I also recreated an illegal immigrant’s tent in the forest and a drain with running water.
That was a maximalist production. For the Venice exhibition, I went for a more minimal approach, preferring to let the videos do most of the heavy lifting. I re-cut the videos so that they engaged the attention and curiosity of people who wandered into the exhibition, even if it would just be for a few minutes at a time.
What was one unexpected challenge/obstacle that you faced over the course of developing ‘Seeing Forest’?
The main obstacle I had was throughout my days in Venice working on ‘Seeing Forest’. A small secondary woodland very close to my flat was being cleared, and I was not there to document the process as a way of saying goodbye and memorialising it. An exhibition can happen again, but not 20-year-old trees coming down. These were trees that I had brought my son to see almost every day since he was born.
After opening ‘Seeing Forest’ in April and having some time to absorb its reception, how do you feel about this entire experience?
To be honest, when I was not busy with setting up the show in Venice, I was preoccupied with thinking about how the show would have to be tweaked for the Singapore showcase in SAM next year. After returning to Singapore, I have been focusing on adapting the show for a local presentation, creating new installations and adding more artefacts and so on.
The experience has been enriching for sure, deepening and crystallising. Because of the high-profile platform, I wanted to present the most succinct, impactful and powerful experience to the viewer, and to convey my message about secondary forests being mysterious and wild frontier spaces which we may never fully know, but can all learn from.
Within the context of an international platform such as the Venice Biennale, does being an artist from Singapore/Southeast Asia bear significance for you or your practice?
Because of my interest in the intersections between humans and nature, Singapore presents itself as a unique story in this ongoing ecological debate about how we can coexist with nature. I met an Italian journalist in Singapore conducting a long-term study of Singapore’s concept of an eco-city. We had a long chat and it seems that our model is something that has become quite well-known. The story that I want to tell is one that is often neglected. Nature is not what we can dominate, but what comes through when we cannot control it.
Were there artworks or artists at the biennale you felt connected with, or made a strong impression on you?
I did not manage to see much of the main exhibition because I simply had no time. I am planning to catch it, plus most of the major pavilions in the Giardini, only when I return to Venice to de-install my work a few months later. I did visit some of the off-site and collateral shows, and one I enjoyed was Carlos Casas’s ‘Bestiari’ (2024). In his video installation, there are moments that the viewer becomes the animal, and navigates the world through their eyes.
Currently, you also have two decades worth of documentation and art books on view in ‘Evidence of Things Not Seen’ (2024) at ShanghART Singapore. Could you talk about the title as well as how you decided on the materials to present?
This exhibition was meant to provide a quick look at various bodies of work that have been shown overseas but not locally since 2008, which was when ShanghART started representing me. The title is from an older work of mine, and I liked how the phrase simultaneously conjures the feeling of something that can or cannot be apprehended directly. I guess this show is a “historical” show in that it collects archival material from old shows, which can only live through such images and documents.
Could you point readers to displays/archival materials which are particularly significant or sentimental to you?
The first image in the show, which showed me digging into the reclaimed land at Tanah Merah in 2011. It was the first time I seriously started investigating the history of land in Singapore.
Are there unrealised projects or topics you wish to pursue in the near future?
In Singapore, there are many so-called “introduced” and “invasive” plants and animals that are not “native”. I hope to visit where these species came from and understand what factors determine where non-human species belong.
Angela Tan and John Tung on the Intersection of Art and Disability
On ART:DIS’s initiatives, working with neurodivergent artists, and what inclusivity entails
Angela Tan is Executive Director at ART:DIS, a non-profit organisation dedicated to creating learning and livelihood opportunities in the arts for persons with disabilities. Angela has a background in the arts, with a Bachelor’s degree in Fine Arts and History of Art from Goldsmiths, London, as well as more than a decade of experience at the National Arts Council, Singapore.
John Tung is a curator with extensive experience through his work formerly as a Assistant Curator at the Singapore Art Museum and numerous other independent engagements including for Singapore International Photography Festival, the Open House programme ‘For the House; Against the House’ and the upcoming S.E.A. Focus 2024 ‘Serial and Massively Parallel’. Recently, John curated ART:DIS’s 30th Anniversary exhibition ‘A Piece of Home’ and was on the judging panel for the inaugural UOL x ART:DIS Art Prize.
Angela, what motivated you to join ART:DIS? And has your perception of the disability sector changed since?
Angela Tan (AT): Part of me was excited about shaping the next development phase of ART:DIS. I felt it was important to embed the organisation more deeply in the local arts ecosystem, not just as a community organisation but one that was serious about developing the artistic excellence and representation of artists with disabilities in Singapore.
My perception of the disability sector has not changed since I joined. What has changed is the clarity and compounded urgency to shift the way the art world and its constructs perceive and position artists with disabilities, and the values they attribute to them.
ART:DIS has a tiered programme, which includes an Emerging Artist level launched in 2022. Could you talk about the enrolment process and the types of mentorship experience offered?
AT: Just like mainstream artists, our young artists, who are mostly neurodivergent, have the same desire and aspiration to excel and expand in their practice. The tiered programme allows us to support them at various stages of their artistic practice development, including those who wish to develop professional careers as artists. The emerging artist programme was newly introduced, and is based on a bespoke industry mentorship approach where artists are matched one-on-one to mentors who are practising artists or curators. Artists are selected through a public open call.
Curated by John Tung, the exhibition ‘A Piece of Home’ is a highlight of ART:DIS’s 30th anniversary celebrations. What are the qualities/ criterion ART:DIS looks out for when choosing the curator to work with?
AT: This is not our first project working with an external curator, but contextually, it was quite rare to do so in the past. However, going forward, we hope to involve more curators in our exhibitions. It is critical that the curator we work with is excited about the artists and their works, as well as how they add a different dimension and texture to what is being presented in our contemporary art landscape.
John, tell us about your experience working with ART:DIS and the artists on ‘A Piece of Home’ (2023).
John Tung (JT): The curation process of ‘A Piece of Home’ was the first time I had the privilege of working with neurodivergent artists or artists with disabilities. Having the opportunity to speak with all the artists about their work and practices, I was taken aback by the outpouring of honesty and authenticity that drove their creations, as well as the breadth of their imagination. In this respect, I also strove to embody their struggles, beliefs, and artistic triumphs in the selection and curation of the exhibition.
Are there anecdotes you can share about the process of organising ‘A Piece of Home’ as well as responses from the public?
AT: Organising “A Piece of Home” at the Objectifs, which is an independent art space, shifted the dynamics of how one encounters the work of an artist with disabilities. I recall conversations with John, and Suzanna Low, my exhibitions head, where we spoke about intentionally presenting the artworks in a way that borrows visual cues of the institutional white cube, and not position the exhibition as a “community” showcase. It is important that the works of these young artists, though still in training, are treated seriously.
JT: To be frank, I presumed I would be unequipped to take on the curation initially. In fact, one of my first questions to Angela was whether the organisation would be able to provide me with training to learn to better communicate with these individuals. My question was met with an outburst of laughter, followed by “no training necessary”. I met with the artists with a genuine curiosity about their artistic creations, and that alone was sufficient in developing a deeper understanding about their works.
With respect to how different the experience was, it was entirely uneventful. Uneventful in the best way possible, as the show developed smoothly. All of the artists and everyone on the ART:DIS team worked closely to realise the vision we had of the exhibition, and I am glad it came to fruition.
Another new initiative is the UOL x ART:DIS Art Prize, which is a platform to recognise artists with disabilities in Singapore. Could you talk about the desired impact of this prize?
AT: The UOL x ART:DIS Art Prize had a simple intent, which was to recognise and raise public visibility of artists with disabilities in our cultural landscape. Some might argue this further focuses on their disability instead of their practice, and could pigeonhole them. Instead, I see it as a much needed intervention for now. Who knows, perhaps one day we would no longer need a prize like this as our cultural scene and society progresses.
In 2022, ART:DIS and artcommune gallery presented ‘Through All Vicissitudes: Prints & Sculptures by Chng Seok Tin’, an exhibition that features works made over four decades in the artist’s career. How did this project come about?
AT: Seok Tin had always been a constant presence at ART:DIS, then known as Very Special Arts. She participated in our exhibitions and events, and had a soft spot for the younger artists. She was an outstanding artist and somewhat an emblem that your disability is not a limit to your practice. In fact, as part of her legacy, her estate had set up an Education Fund for aspiring young artists with disabilities which supports the Emerging Artist programme.
In your opinion, what does inclusivity and accessibility entail? And what are the most impactful steps the arts community can take to work towards greater inclusivity?
AT: Everyone is jumping on the bandwagon now which is great progress but what should be considered in equal measure is the representation of their voices, their bodies in our mainstream exhibitions and cultural spaces. What is the point of providing access to exhibitions for the disability community if the content they see does not reflect them?
We start by including artists with disabilities in shows, collaborating with them, and stop seeing them as the community that we must do good for. They have equal parts to contribute to a more diverse arts ecosystem, as contributors, not as receivers of goodwill.
JT: I am quite certain that the disability label progressively fades away as an artist gains increasing prominence. After all, numerous established artists, Yayoi Kusama for instance, are not branded as such. I firmly believe that our approach to evaluating artworks should be uniform, albeit in accordance with our own rubrics. Personally, I give great emphasis to authenticity, which these artists have no lack of. Concessions granted, owing to “disability”, are in my opinion a disservice to the amazing stories, creative struggles, and heartfelt emotions these works embody. There is an inherent goodness in these works that we need to re-train our eyes to see.
John, in light of the upcoming edition of S.E.A. Focus that you are curating, how do you think inclusivity in visual arts might evolve in an increasingly digital age?
JT: I have been pessimistic about this increasingly digital age. Amongst other things, with the rise of social media, goodness seems to be determined by popular opinion/likes/upvotes. Undoubtedly, the emergence of these platforms is accelerating the dispersion of information and heightening visibility of these artists, but it also means that engagement becomes highly mediated and often pared down or truncated. We already do not spend enough time in front of a single work of art in a museum setting. How much attention does an image get from us amidst a doom-scrolling session?
The fact that more of such works are seen is a good thing, but it will need to be complemented by a growth in interactions with the actual works as well.
Leslie de Chavez: “Self-censorship will only hinder an artist’s ability to convey their thoughts”
A look at his multifaceted practice and artist-run initiative Project Space Pilipinas
At the heart of Leslie de Chavez’s practice is a deep concern for the role of art in society. Taking different forms from intense paintings to texturally-rich installations, his works capture an incisive take on Filipino society and history. In addition to his artistic practice, Leslie is also the founder of Project Space Pilipinas (PSP) which first opened in 2007 in Mandaluyong, Metro Manila. PSP is a platform for creative interactions, where he aims to have a meaningful presence and engagement with his local community. Leslie’s two-pronged approach considers both the realm of representation in art as well as the forms of direct action through which culture can bring about change.
In Leslie’s paintings, pictorial space is a battleground for meaning. He co-opts the tradition of European religious painting as a means to speak about history. This approach is evident in the use of Christian motifs, as well as Leslie’s treatment of the painting surface.
In recent works such as ‘State of the Nation II’ (2018) and ‘There is Not Enough Pain and Pleasure in the World to Permit Giving Any of It Away to the Greed of Mankind’ (2022), sensuously rendered figures populate a shimmering gold leaf background. Leslie conjures a stark contrast between the splendour of illuminated manuscripts and the violent scenes depicted in dramatic chiaroscuro. For him, the Western technique of glazing is a metaphor for the “stain” of colonisation. In painting his figure’s dark skin using this technique, the artist tells a story that connects the legacy of imperialism with contemporary issues in the Philippines.
Speaking truth to power
Indeed, Leslie is not an artist who shies away from sensitive topics. His solo exhibition ‘A Lonely Picket in the Balcony’ (2021) at Silverlens, Manila, is a striking example of his active commentary. The show lamented the socio-political decline caused by the country’s former administration and their handling of the COVID-19 pandemic.
‘Latigo at Tinik Nang Bitukang Halang’ (2021) is a large sculpture which takes the form of a rosary. However, the rosary beads are replaced with the heads of Philippine presidents Rodrigo Duterte and Ferdinand Marcos. This chain of power is connected to a crucifix composed of .38 calibre guns commonly found in crime scenes related to extra judicial killings. The artist’s layered use of symbols mirrors the complex entanglements in the underbelly of corruption.
When asked if he is concerned about the threat of political resistance, Leslie says it is secondary to his initial intention of responding to the urgent issues. “My diverse art practice has always been about attending to the many conceivable ways of thinking and doing things,” he elaborates. “Self-censorship, in my opinion, will only hinder an artist’s ability to effectively convey his or her thoughts to an audience.” Implicit too is a respect for the audience and their role in completing a work of art.
Audience development as social practice
On that note, audience development is a core mission at PSP. As Leslie shared in this 2022 SEAspotlight Talk on art spaces, PSP began as an artist residency (Neo-Emerging Artist Residency, or NEAR Manila), which collaborated on exchanges, exhibitions, and projects with local and international partners. Now situated in the town of Lucban, it is managed by a small team which includes Leslie and two local artists. Their vision for PSP is a space where locals can expand their imagination, discover effective means of expression, as well as cultivate a critical eye to unpack artworks and discern problems that concern the community.
Its 2023 thematic programme ‘Thinking/ Doing in Terms’ is centred on the re-examination of local rituals, traditions, and narratives. One upcoming community participation project is ‘Project Paglalarawan: Sandaang Mukha ni Hermano Puli’. It is an open call for 100 portrait drawings of a known local historical figure Apolinario dela Cruz, or Hermano Puli. He was a religious leader who led the first major revolt in the Philippines against the Spanish. Interestingly, no images of Hermano Puli exist and thus the project draws upon Lucban’s community imagination. Through this open call for portraits, it is also an opportunity to engage with colonial history and what it means to decolonise. The notion of social practice comes alive in such activities.
Career milestones
Looking back at his two-decade-long career, Leslie considers two major turning points in his path as an artist. The first came in 2001 when he made the decision to leave his position as a graphic designer at a museum, to focus solely on his artistic practice. It was a time of introspection, of contextualising his place as an artist within the larger community.
Another turning point was his residency in Seoul from 2005 to 2006, which he cites as “a fruitful occasion that completely changed the course of his career”. This was a time when artistic activities in the Philippines were limited, with few galleries and collectors interested in emerging artists. As such, the Seoul residency opened exhibition opportunities and expanded his network of contacts for future partnerships. Among the most consequential relationships is the one with Arario Gallery, which today operates spaces across Seoul, Cheonan and Shanghai, and has exclusively represented the artist since 2006. Reflecting on the pivotal moment, Leslie says he was at the right place, at the right time. Perhaps just as crucially, he approached it with the right attitude, taking it in his stride.
Learn more about Project Space Pilipinas and other art spaces in Asia in this SEAspotlight Talk with Leslie de Chavez, Eunice Tsang and Wang Ruobing, moderated by H.G. Masters.
Dr Diana Tay: “Whether it is done by a professional or by the collector, regular checks are key to minimise risks of deterioration.”
On caring for artworks and the future of art conservation in Southeast Asia
Dr Diana Tay is a paintings conservator and the founder of BARC Labs in Singapore. She has more than 14 years of experience in the field, having worked at institutions such as Heritage Conservation Centre (Singapore), Tate Britain (United Kingdom), National Museum of Philippines, and QAGOMA (Queensland, Australia). Her portfolio includes designing institutional policies for the acquisition of contemporary art as well as working with private collectors on their collection management.
What motivated you to start BARC Labs in 2022? How does it differ from existing conservation studios in Singapore or Southeast Asia?
Well, to be honest, at the top of my mind, my first response would be a fear of post-PhD depression. After being hyper-focused on a project for five years without a break, you can imagine feeling lost the moment you submit your thesis. What will I do next? There are no conservation schools in Singapore so continuing an academic profession would not be possible. The one thing I knew for sure was that I had to come back to Singapore – for the people who have supported my research from day one and believed that there was value in conservation research outside of institutions. I do not think I would have done it any other way. They have motivated me to start BARC Labs and I do see my value here in Singapore, sharing and generating conservation knowledge.
The first significant distinction is our strong emphasis on research and the provision of research services. Through technical examination and archival research, we delve beneath the paint layer, enabling us to provide valuable insights into an artist’s materials and techniques. This process is particularly captivating as we explore artworks by artists who may no longer be with us, allowing us to journey back in time. Our endeavours contribute to the expansion of our material knowledge concerning artists in the region. We are delighted by the positive reception of this service! It has been well received by private collectors who seek to enhance their understanding of their artworks and collections. Additionally, it has proven valuable for retrospective exhibitions, providing curators with insights into the artist’s materials and techniques!
The second differentiation is that we are big on education. We have just conducted the Little Art Detectives series, a children’s workshop at Singapore Art Museum in early June, where we showed children how to spot damages on paintings, have a think about how it happened and they also had a hand at trying out some retouching techniques! Public outreach is important to change the way we think about conservation and the way our shared cultural heritage is being cared for. Right now, conservation or restoration is usually thought of only when there has been a change or damage. Thinking of it this way is quite like you going to the doctor only when requiring surgery. We can begin thinking about the health of our collection and minimising the risks of deterioration – much like a yearly check-up at the GP! I think conservation has a lot more to offer. We are always on the lookout for the next outreach opportunity.
From your perspective, what types of conservation or restoration issues are easiest to remedy?
The deterioration issues of paintings are complicated and unique to each case. Paintings are essentially made of materials, and these materials are very much alive. Within a painting’s anatomy, there are many layers – the canvas, ground, paint and possibly varnish. Sometimes, the deterioration may be happening in the middle layer. Sometimes, it could be an abrasion or a scratch that caused surface damage. For instance, a tear across a painting could be straightforward if the tear is neat and can be treated relatively quickly. However, if a tear is on an acrylic painting, and the paint layer has deformed from the impact, then it would be complicated. However, not all deterioration mechanisms can be remedied. Sometimes, the materials themselves result in inherent changes. If a paint layer begins to powder because there is not enough binder, that would be complicated.
How easily can these deterioration issues be avoided?
The key is maintenance. This is something that is often neglected and its importance is seldom emphasised. Think about it. After purchasing an artwork, it is then displayed in a house or kept in storage. What are we doing to take care of it? I think it is quite interesting to observe how we care for other assets such as cars, where owners are constantly thinking about maintenance routines, mileage, and whether the dent is new. I know that it is quite different but as a material-based asset, I would suggest we start thinking the same way when it comes to caring for our artworks too.
There are risks we cannot run away from such as mould, especially in Singapore. Even buildings or institutions with the most consistent and regulated temperature and humidity can still have mould challenges. The spores are microscopic and if we think about the conditions of where artworks are produced, or stored, it is seldom in a climate-controlled environment. So, it is always better to take care of artworks from the onset and have them checked frequently. This is because it is impossible to restore some damages back to the artist’s original intention. When we take maintenance seriously, we can avoid many risks.
Can a layperson look out for these “symptoms” or do you think that only professionals can properly do maintenance checks?
With the right knowledge and purpose, a layperson would be able to do it. I have guided some clients on what to look out for in their artworks. They are the first set of eyes! However, with some clients, they prefer having a professional conservator in to help maintain their collection. Whether it is done by a professional or by the collector, what matters most is the acknowledgement that regular checks need to be done. Looking is the first step. Now, the next step is addressing an issue when you spot one. This is something for which you definitely need to call on a professional.
Works in oil, acrylic, paper, and print are some of the commonly collected mediums. On the topic of care, what are some precautionary measures collectors based in Southeast Asia can take?
Well, the first thing is to pay attention to the storage conditions of the work. Good air circulation is important. Do not store artworks in their bubble wrap after they have been delivered to your place. Much irreversible damage is caused by packing paper or bubble wrap getting stuck onto the paint layer, leaving behind their marks, especially in warm and humid Singapore. At the end of the day, it all goes back to maintenance. Things like mould, bubble wrap damage, tears and holes can be easily prevented. Artworks should also be professionally cleaned to minimise dust accumulation.
For artworks on paper and print, I think foxing is one of the biggest challenges I have seen in Singapore. This can be caused by the humidity, the way it was framed or by the paper quality itself. If it is the latter, there is nothing much you can do as it is inherent to the material. I would usually tell collectors that as long as they like the work and can accept the visual anomalies, they should just acquire it. It is unreasonable to expect something material to not go through change. Even we get wrinkles! When we see old master paintings, we might find the cracks beautiful. So why might we find that difficult to accept when it comes to artworks we own? That said, the responsibility of using good-quality materials begins with the artist, and that is where conservators can also collaborate with artists to understand the impact of using certain materials.
There is ongoing research on the conservation of artworks and its materials in tropical climates. Our climate is different from that of temperate countries so it influences how materials react, the type of pests we might have or how we start thinking about our storage conditions. Our challenges here in Southeast Asia are quite specific.
I would like to dwell on paper as a material. Paper quality is one factor in the mix, could you talk about other variables we should consider?
Sure. It is not only about the acidity of paper. Its absorbency could also affect the way paper interacts with humidity. At times, the artists may want the surface to absorb pigments in a certain way so they prepare the surface differently. All that said, I do not believe in altering an artist’s practice or interfering with the artist’s intention. They should not change materials for the sake of conservation if it affects the final outcome.
We also need to think about how the artwork is displayed and the materials used in frames. Some artists may choose to exhibit their paper works by pinning it up on four corners onto the wall. I think we have seen this before where bulges or undulations occur, especially if it is in a room that has the air conditioning turned on and off! When it comes to framing paper works, we need to be aware of how it is mounted, whether it is adhered, as well as the materials used in framing.
Lastly, could you touch on the relationship between conservation and the art market confidence?
What I hope to work on is establishing artist attribution and building a conservation material record for Southeast Asia, starting with modern paintings in Singapore. To do so, artworks need to be accessible for research. This applies not only to private collections but institutions, galleries, and artist estates too. This process is usually done in our studio and involves collecting 100 data points from the artwork through technical photography, visual examination and material analysis. Only when there is breadth in the data collected, can we move towards the conversation about artist attribution and possibly, authenticity. I think what we need in Singapore are joint research efforts by institutions and private stakeholders.
That said, I am excited for the future. There are currently quite a few Singaporeans undertaking their Masters in Conservation overseas and they are interested in researching our local cultural heritage. The conservation discipline in Singapore is slowly developing and people today are more aware of the profession. With the right support for research, I do believe that we will see a significant change in three to five years’ time when these locals complete their studies and bring their expertise home.
This interview has been edited.