Yee I-Lann: “Maybe a socially-engaged art practice entails not turning away, making space for others and ‘letting go’…”
Community and collaboration in the Sabahan artist’s work
Since 2018, Sabahan artist Yee I-Lann, who is represented by Silverlens, has been collaborating with communities of weavers to make tikar, mats woven from bamboo or the Pandanus plant. They hail from two geographies: the inland community of Sabahan Busun and Murut weavers in the town of Keningau, and the sea community of Bajau Sama Dilaut weavers based on the islands of Semporna. This project speaks to a type of socially-engaged art practice where personal history, local knowledge, critical theory, and community engagement meet.
TIKAR/MEJA
Though it is commonly found in tourist markets across Southeast Asia today, the tikar is more than a craft product in I-Lann’s eyes. She sees the woven mat as a platform for communal gathering, where everyone sits together on the same level. The symbol of the mat is juxtaposed against that of the table, an invention introduced to Southeast Asia through the legacy of colonisation. For the artist, the table represents administrative power and hard patriarchal control. As a piece of architecture, the table creates hierarchies by elevating and excluding certain groups. This is opposite of the egalitarian, grassroot platform of the mat which is almost always woven by women.
This relationship between the mat and table comes together in the monumental ‘TIKAR/ MEJA’ series which has been exhibited internationally in Manila, Kota Kinabalu, Seoul, Basel, New York and other cities. ‘TIKAR/MEJA’ is the work which marks the start of I-Lann’s ongoing collaboration with the weavers. While their patterns and colours vary, a single standing table floats in the centre of each mat in the series. It suggests that the table can be rolled up, or “eaten” by the mat like in a game of rock, paper, scissors.
Sharing and making space
For I-Lann, conversations are at the heart of a socially-engaged art practice. “Maybe it entails not turning away, taking part in something, embracing responsibility and care,” she says. “It is about building relationships and communities, sharing, and making space for others for collaborative actions and ‘letting go’.” They are actions of inclusion towards collective benefit. Notably, the names of weavers who have worked on each piece are woven into the artwork, acknowledging their labour and essential roles as co-creators and storytellers. This system of mutual support is strengthened through initiatives that invest in the community, such as the building of the Balai Bikin, a community hall next to the weavers’ water village.
On her “other life” in the film industry
When asked about her experience as a production designer for feature films, I-Lann comments that both practices involve designing spaces for ideas and stories to unfold. She adds, “I feed off popular culture and what Milan Kundera called ‘political kitsch’ ,– how to activate and make short-cuts in knowledges and visual languages that a wide public already understands for your own propaganda!” I-Lann also describes film-making as a team sport that often happens under trying circumstances. The key is to create a conducive atmosphere for collaboration, in order to sustain energy and excitement towards the project.
‘Borneo Heart’ in Kota Kinabalu and Kuala Lumpur
The themes of community and collaboration are also extended into the presentation of this recent body of work. ‘Borneo Heart’ is an expansive travelling exhibition that started in I-Lann’s hometown of Kota Kinabalu in 2021. Hosted across several venues in Kuala Lumpur, its second iteration in 2023 coincided with Malaysia’s 60th year of nationhood. ‘Borneo Heart’ is an invitation to sit at the mat, or in the artist’s words “a space where things get activated”. Beverly Yong, Director of RogueArt and curator of ‘Borneo Heart’, highlights how “the exhibition itself has enveloped supporting institutions and independent teams and professionals” as the tikar works engage different practices and communities. The gesture of bringing together East and West Malaysia through this project carries strong personal significance to the artist who has deep roots in both geographies.
the sun will rise in the east
The period of organising ‘Borneo Heart’ was also one of introspection for I-Lann as she looked back on more than a decade’s work consolidated in her latest monograph the sun will rise in the east. Edited by Beverly Yong, who also worked on the artist’s previous monograph Fluid World, the publication is a collection of primary materials that informed I-Lann’s practice from 2011 to 2023. In many ways, this book is also a reflection of their journey through a friendship of more than 20 years, documenting the many ways in which they have worked together.
To learn more about the long-time collaboration, watch here for a recording of ‘Community and Collaboration’ at SEAspotlight 2024, a conversation between Yee I-Lann and Beverly Yong, Director, RogueArt, moderated by June Yap, Director, Curatorial, Programmes and Publications, Singapore Art Museum.
Natee Utarit: “At the spiritual level, we are not different at all.”
Thai artist reflects on the conclusion of his six-year-long ‘Déjà vu’ series
Born in 1970 in Bangkok, Natee Utarit is one of the most celebrated contemporary artists in his generation. He is best known for his approach to painting as a means of questioning classical Western genres and art history. His rich compositions often blend elements from different cultures and time periods, as well as symbols that speak to the sociopolitical context of Thailand.
We speak to the artist at the conclusion of his ‘Déjà vu’ series, with two solo shows in Singapore at STPI – Creative Workshop & Gallery and The Private Museum, as well as the group exhibition ‘The Spirits of Maritime Crossing’ (2024) presented as part of the 60th Venice Biennale. The inception of ‘Déjà vu’ came about through a project the artist was invited to work on in Naples in 2018, where he wanted to combine ideas and beliefs from eastern and western cultures. The thought experiment Natee toyed with was: what would it be like if Lord Buddha travelled to the West before the emergence of European civilisation? This question led to a body of work that challenges Eurocentric worldviews and the cultural imprint left by colonialism.
In this conversation, Natee looks back at this six-year-long series and shares his process behind undertaking such an ambitious project. We begin with the bronze sculpture that marked the inception of this series, sharing the same title ‘Déjà vu’. It depicts an encounter between the Buddha and Doryphoros, a classical Greek figure of the spear-bearer. This work succinctly captures the theme of east-meets-west, which runs through the entire project.
Could you say more about where these two figures in ‘Déjà vu’ came from and how they relate to the title?
My initial intention for the sculpture was to show the connection between Greco-Roman culture and that of Asia through the art of the ancient kingdom of Gandhara. But my plans began to evolve once I made a visit to the National Archaeological Museum of Naples. There, I saw an utterly amazing collection of Greco-Roman marble statuary. One of the pieces in particular, a marble spear-bearer (Doryphoros), strongly resonated with me. Looking at it gave me a strange feeling that combined familiarity and distance. It was as if I had seen the sculpture somewhere before a long time ago but could not place it exactly. In fact, various minor elements of several other pieces in the collection gave me the same uncanny feeling. However, the statue of the spear-bearer gave me the most clarity on the nature of this feeling. The image of the sculpture dovetailed nicely with thoughts and feelings I had about certain Buddha images I was familiar with. It was like this Greco-Roman sculpture had been superimposed on a statue of the Buddha. Whether this was merely accidental or whether it was due to the influence of Greco-Roman art on the Buddhist religion, this strange sense of déjà vu allowed me to imagine what it would be like if the Buddha made a trip to Naples. Certain details have been changed in the final work, but the ancient Doryphoros is there in my sculpture of the walking Buddha.
Visiting both your exhibitions at The Private Museum and STPI, one would notice a mirroring of certain motifs and forms. For instance, a fragmented sculpture might be cast in bronze and also paper. While the effect of embroidery in one painting might be translated into flocking into the work produced in collaboration with the STPI’s Creative Workshop. Could you talk more about your experience in this collaboration and how it pushed your thinking?
For me, seeing my major works transformed into printmaking is very interesting. Since I graduated from Silpakorn University with a degree in printmaking in the early 1990s, it has given me a different perspective on printmaking and its possibilities. I see printmaking as a process driven by creativity, planning, and problem-solving. Thus, it excites me when I need to come up with ways to transfer the techniques from a different medium into the language of printmaking. I need to do this while still maintaining the original character of the work and its initial concept. Yet through the collaboration, something new is created and communicated.
The figures or characters who appear in your paintings are based on real people, including friends and acquaintances. What is the reason behind such a method of working?
I usually work from facts and stimuli around me. The same goes for portraits and different meanings arise depending on the specific conditions around the making of the painting. Often, the personality of the subject determines the mood of the image. It is all a process that is based on the truth around me, and it varies based on the angle that I choose to present the story.
The ‘Déjà vu’ series was conceived in 2018, and spanned multiple presentations around the world. Could you share if there are differences in the responses you received from audiences in Southeast Asia and Europe?
I received messages from audiences in Italy where the ‘Déjà vu’ series made its debut. Someone wrote, “After all, we are all the same, not different.” I was very much impressed that my work conveyed messages that could unite two different cultures through overlapping religious beliefs. I believe that this is a meaningful and significant thing as it enables me and other artists from this part of the world to realise the essence of our heritage. It also reduces the cultural gap that has been embedded in our minds since the colonial era in Asia.
The feedback is consistent with that of Asian audiences. There is an attitude of convergence without discrimination or a sense of ridicule from the legacies of history. It shows that all of us, whether we are from the East or West, differ only in our beliefs, geography and lifestyles. But at the spiritual level, we are not different at all.
How do you feel after concluding this six-year-long series?
I think now is the time because I have so many interesting ideas on my waiting list. Actually, while working on the ‘Déjà vu’ series, I have explored new things through offshoots from the series or totally different bodies of work. During this six-year period, there have been both dynamic and calm periods which bring me great happiness.
You tend to work in large cycles of work, such as in the previous series ‘Optimism is Ridiculous’. What is the preparation process like before embarking on them? And how do you sustain your interest or manage your time to see through the project?
What I try to maintain in my artistry is work discipline. I arrive at my studio at 6:30 a.m. every morning and leave at 7 p.m. every day. I think that discipline and consistency are the most important factors in creating the conditions for tangible success, in art and all other pursuits. When working on large-scale ideas with complex and diverse display methods and techniques, great concentration is required to keep us focused. It can be said that you must keep your perception sharp and be ready to work once you encounter inspiration or creative possibilities at any time. Of course, these things may not be directly related to work ethic, but we cannot deny that discipline and consistency helps empower this kind of creative instinct.
Natee Utarit, ‘THE SUPER UNKNOWN – 02’, 2024, oil on canvas, 80 x 60cm. Image courtesy of the artist and Richard Koh Fine Art.
Lastly, could you give us a teaser of your new works which will be presented at S.E.A. Focus 2025?
The 16 pieces in S.E.A. Focus 2025 are developed from ideas that came up as I finished the ‘Déjà vu’ series. They speak to postcolonial ideas through the attitudes and reactions of the young generation today. I chose to represent the images in the style of comic strips and illustrated content. When all the paintings are seen together, they would read like a graphic novel. The outcome is pretty hilarious.
Natee Utarit will be presenting a new body of works at ‘Disconnected Contemporaries’, S.E.A. Focus 2025, represented by Richard Koh Fine Art.
S.E.A. Focus 2025 runs from 18 to 26 January 2025 at Tanjong Pagar Distripark, Singapore.
Jirat Ratthawongjirakul: “We wish to be a place that nurtures young artists and encourages established artists to continue experimenting and shifting their practice.”
Getting to know Gallery VER, an artist-founded initiative in Bangkok with its sights abroad
Co-initiated by Rirkrit Tiravanija, Gallery VER was established in 2006 as an artist-led initiative. The independent space was a response to the lack of opportunity for young artists to gain exposure outside of government and corporate-sponsored competitions. While there were commercial galleries operating in Thailand at the time, most were reluctant to take a chance with artists who did not already have mainstream recognition. Gallery VER came at an important juncture in the development of Thai contemporary art, with a dynamic programme that continues to champion conceptualist modes of thinking and art-making.
The name VER
The gallery takes its name from VER magazine which artist Pratchaya Phinthong published from 2000 to 2004 when he doubled as the gallery’s director. A shortened form of “over” in English, “ver” is used as a common Thai slang. In adopting this name, the gallery is interested in different aspects of the word “over” such as to move or span across and to invert.
Move to N22
2016 was an important year for Gallery VER as they started a new chapter after moving into the N22 complex, where they continue to reside. The gallery has come a long way since its first iteration in 2006 at a riverside spot in Bangkok’s Thonburi district, accessible mostly by boat. Located within walking distance from both Bangkok Skytrain and MRT Subway stations, the new space has a 100 square-metre main exhibition gallery and a second 25 square-metre room. This allows for the possibility of hosting two concurrent shows or a larger single presentation. Other galleries in the N22 community include Cartel Art Space, founded by fellow Chiang Mai artist Mit Jai Inn, Tentacles Gallery and La Lanta Fine Art.
First international showcase
At Rirkrit’s recommendation, Gallery VER participated in the inaugural S.E.A. Focus in 2019 with a presentation around the theme of ‘Pressure of the Inner Mind’. Notably, it was the gallery’s first art showcase to an international audience and they featured three artists: Udomsak Krisanamis, Wantanee Siripattananuntakul, and Nuttapon Sawasdee. Director Jirat Ratthawongjirakul says, “Our aim was exposure hence we chose artists of different ages: established, mid-career, and emerging, respectively.” The trio represented Gallery VER’s diverse programme and commitment to work with artists at different stages in their career.
Gallery VER stays true to its artist-led roots, giving space to new ideas and voices. “Running a gallery is not only about the sale of the artworks,” Jirat explains. “We wish to be a place that nurtures young artists and encourages established artists to continue experimenting and shifting their practice.” A number of artists have had their debut solo exhibitions at Gallery VER over the years, including Niwat Manatpiyalert, Kamolros Wonguthum, Nontawat Numbenchapol, and Thavika Savangwongsakul amongst others. Operating in Thailand, where there is a history of art censorship during its junta regimes, the gallery has built a reputation of supporting their artists in spite of potential political backlash.
Future plans
Looking ahead, Gallery VER aims to regain momentum on their international engagements which were halted during the COVID-19 pandemic. One major programme is their participation in Frieze London in October 2023, under the fair’s new ‘Artist-to-Artist’ initiative. In this section, eight internationally-acclaimed artists are being invited to propose artists for solo exhibitions at the fair and Rirkrit has nominated Wantanee Siripattananuntakul. In addition to her presentation at Frieze London, Wantanee will also be exhibiting at the 3rd Thailand Biennale, alongside Mit Jai Inn. Audiences can look forward to the upcoming edition of Thailand Biennale in Chiang Rai when it opens in December 2023.
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.
Deborah Iskandar: “Living with art you love is the most rewarding return on investment you can achieve.”
Founder of ISA Art and Design shares her journey in the art world
Deborah Iskandar is the Founder of ISA Art and Design with almost 30 years of art market experience under her belt. She officially entered the art world when she brought the international auction house Christie’s to Indonesia in 1996, and later joined Sotheby’s in 2009 as their Managing Director. In 2013, she started her independent advisory which assists private and corporate clients in sourcing artworks and building collections.
More recently, a physical space for ISA Art Gallery was established in 2020 with a focus on promoting the practices of women and Indonesian diaspora artists, as well as having an interest in new media art and the secondary market. S.E.A. Focus welcomed ISA Art Gallery’s participation for the first time in the 2024 edition with a presentation of works by A. Sebastianus Hartanto.
In addition to her role as a consultant and gallery owner, Deborah is a long-time collector. We had to ask how she plays these multiple roles and what are her observations on the Southeast Asian art market.
Your background is in finance law before entering the auction business in the 1990s. You have been an art consultant before establishing your own gallery in 2020. How have these worked out for you?
After leaving the auction house, I sought a moment to pause and reflect on the pace of the past 15 years. During this time, I had ventured into launching a startup that fused Indonesian luxury with art and design, driven by my passion for art and interior aesthetics, and my belief in living with art. Concurrently, I began art consulting to integrate art into architectural and interior projects. Often, I encountered clients with exquisite homes devoid of art due to time constraints or limited interest in acquiring works. Introducing this concept was slow-going in Indonesia initially; I started with just one or two projects annually, aligning with my desire for a more measured workload. Gradually, the momentum picked up.
Opening a gallery had not crossed my mind initially. While consulting, I discovered artists such as Sinta Tantra, Ida Lawrence, and Ines Katamso, whose works resonated deeply with me. Interestingly, my office was housed in my former residence, located in a flood-prone area of Jakarta. The upstairs space served as a workspace, while it remained vacant downstairs. Following a Feng Shui master advising me to “activate the downstairs”, the idea to open a gallery was sparked. Thus, on 3 March 2020, we inaugurated our new show, only to close two weeks later due to COVID-19. Despite the setback, the concept took root. We persisted through the pandemic, driven by a newfound passion to champion young Southeast Asian artists, particularly women—an under-represented niche in art collecting.
How would you describe your own collecting interests, and strategy, if any?
At heart, I am a collector. It began when I was 26, with my first painting purchase, and since then, my passion for collecting has only grown. My initial collection focused on non-conformist art from the former Soviet Union. I bought it during an art exhibition in Hong Kong. Later, I moved to Indonesia in 1991 and during my time at Christie’s from 1996 to 2007, my interests expanded to include Vietnamese and Indonesian modern art. For example, I was collecting works by Le Pho, Mai Trung Thu, and Vu Cao Dam, and eventually it evolved into a fascination with contemporary Asian art. I visited the studios of Agus Suwage, Yunizar, Masriadi, and Rudy Mantovani, among others, and I systematically started collecting works by the top contemporary artists like Arahmaiani, Heri Dono, Jompet Kuswidananto, and others.
Now, as a gallerist, I encounter numerous opportunities to acquire works by promising young Indonesian and Southeast Asian artists, continually enriching my collection.
Like many collectors will attest, it is more than a hobby; it is an addiction.
How do you usually advise your clients to collect, and how would the advice differ between a new collector, and for someone who has already built one?
When starting out as a collector, it is crucial to buy what you love and also what you can afford and, most importantly, to make informed decisions. Engage with gallerists, curators, and approach art with a discerning eye! I often advise new collectors to refrain from purchasing anything for the first six months because your taste will evolve as you immerse yourself in the art world and deepen your understanding.
For seasoned collectors, the pursuit never ends. Continuously explore and assess your collection to identify areas to enhance and fill gaps. As an auction house executive, I had the privilege of handling numerous exceptional private collections. The most successful sales came from collectors who meticulously curated their collections over a lifetime, creating narratives that spanned art history and told compelling stories.
In your opinion, what is an investment in art?
While I did not initially buy art as an investment, it has proven to be an exceptionally wise one. Art, as an asset, often requires holding onto for 20, 30, or even 40 years to see substantial returns. Beyond financial gains, art is meant to be cherished and experienced, not merely stored away. This belief led me to venture into consulting, placing art in public spaces such as hotels and private homes.
When acquiring art, conduct thorough research, but prioritise pieces that resonate personally. Living with art you love is the most rewarding return on investment.
Could you talk about your approach to designing a home/office/space for art?
Designing a home, office, or any space with art involves a creative and collaborative process that goes beyond mere decoration. It is fun! The selection of the art can determine the mood of the space, so it is an opportunity to imbue the space with personality and ambience, guided by the architectural and interior design context. Whether the person prefers minimalist, graffiti, contemporary, modernist, landscapes, or other styles, each choice reflects their personal taste and can communicate aspects about their identity and interests.
Working closely with clients, architects, and interior designers is essential in this journey. It is about understanding the client’s vision for the space and aligning it harmoniously with the chosen artworks. This collaboration ensures that the art enhances the overall aesthetic and functionality of the space, creating a cohesive and enriching environment that resonates with the individuals.
From your experience, what have you observed about collector sensibilities when it comes to modern and contemporary Southeast Asian art? In what ways are they similar and/or different?
One trend I have observed among collectors in Southeast Asia, especially in Indonesia, is their preference for Western art due to its perceived rapid appreciation in value. However, I personally find this to be the least compelling reason for acquiring art. Many Asian artists have received education in prominent art schools in London and New York, placing them on par with Western artists in terms of quality and influence.
Interestingly, there’s a noticeable shift towards Asian art as well. A growing number of young collectors are showing keen interest in contemporary Indonesian art. They connect deeply with artworks that reflect themes such as governmental issues, societal challenges, and the impact of technology. These are artworks that challenge the status quo.
Moreover, 21st century art encompasses more than traditional oil paintings on canvas — it includes new media art forms. This diversity adds an intriguing dimension to any art collection.
In your opinion, what is the relationship between a platform dedicated to Southeast Asian contemporary art, such as S.E.A. Focus, and its market?
I believe platforms like S.E.A. Focus plays a crucial role in the Southeast Asian contemporary art market. Our participation in S.E.A. Focus earlier this year was particularly enlightening, as it highlighted a growing enthusiasm among collectors from Taiwan, Japan, and Korea for Indonesian and Southeast Asian art. Such platforms not only stimulate interest but also facilitate focused collection building within the realm of Asian art.
Moreover, S.E.A. Focus serves as an essential educational platform, fostering greater awareness and appreciation for art across the region. By showcasing diverse artworks and facilitating dialogue among artists, collectors, and curators, it contributes significantly to the cultural exchange and enrichment of Southeast Asian art practices.
Taking a broader global perspective, could you also speak to the value proposition for Southeast Asian art, especially considering prices of primary market contemporary works by Euro-American artists.
From a global perspective, I believe investing in Southeast Asian art presents a broader opportunity, particularly due to its historically undervalued status compared to primary market contemporary works by Euro-American artists. The disparity in valuation can be attributed to the West’s extensive infrastructure supporting art, including museums, biennales, curatorial networks, and media coverage that spans centuries. In contrast, Southeast Asia, and Asia more broadly, lacks such structure, making it challenging for Asian artists to build credentials such as museum exhibitions or mentions in influential publications like the New York Times.
However, I see this landscape evolving positively with increasing global interest in Asian art as a distinct and valuable category. As awareness grows and investments in cultural infrastructure rise across Asia, we are likely to witness a gradual leveling of the playing field. This shift not only enhances the recognition and market value of Southeast Asian artists but also enriches the global art discourse by diversifying perspectives and narratives. Therefore, investing in Southeast Asian art now not only holds potential financial returns but also contributes to the enrichment of the global art community.
Deborah Iskandar was a speaker in the SEAspotlight Talk ‘To Market, To Market, To Buy an Artwork: Investing in Southeast Asia’, which took place in January 2024. Watch the recording of this panel discussion for more on the value of Southeast Asian art and the outlook on its market.
Tan Zi Hao: “Translation is a method of listening and a mode of care.”
Malaysian artist unpacks the layers in his installation ‘The Mercurial Inscription’
The work of Malaysian artist Tan Zi Hao contains multitudes. Though his subject matter spans the quotidian to the imaginary and mythological, he is committed to challenging essentialist ideologies in favour of complexity. One important facet of his practice is an engagement with text. For him, text is more than just a mode of expression or historical document. Equally important is its form and the fact that typography can communicate nuanced meanings.
This catch-up session focuses on Zi Hao’s ‘The Mercurial Inscription’ (2022), which was selected for acquisition into the Singapore Art Museum collection through the SAM S.E.A. Focus Art Fund. The artist unpacks the various components that come together in this ambitious installation, such as the dozen translations featured in the animation as well as the aluminium sculpture that audiences are invited to activate. Zi Hao’s deep research into Malayan history and the politics of language comes through strongly as he speaks about the impact of postgraduate studies on his artistic practice.
Could you talk about the collaborative process behind producing ‘The Mercurial Inscription’? It is a large undertaking which involved translators, type designers, animators as well as fabricators who worked on the aluminium sculpture.
‘The Mercurial Inscription’ has involved a number of people with varying expertise. I approached the translators first. There are 10 target languages and 12 translations. Target languages are chosen based on specific personal experiences and resonance. I do not view translation as a representation of cultural inclusivity nor as an index of political correctness, but as a biographical inscription, as an expression in itself.
Some of the target languages, such as Hokkien and Javanese, are local and specific, and it took some time to find suitable translators. I did not face this issue with the more common languages, such as Arabic and Mandarin. I have also considered translating the stone inscription into Hakka, but no one I approached was willing to take up this endeavour. This is because Hakka speakers do not necessarily know the exact Chinese characters that signal the pronunciation in Hakka. Chinese languages such as Hokkien and Hakka, my parents’ mother tongues, are inaccurately understood as “dialects”. Hence, my intention of translating them in the work is also to provincialise the notion of Chineseness while drawing reference from the broader Sinophone world.
Translation also takes place beyond language. The translated texts were drawn by type and graphic designers, mimicking the worn surface of the original stone inscription in Arabic Malay or Jawi. On this, I worked with frequent collaborators Tan Sueh Li, Low Hsin Yin, and Louie Lee of hrftype foundry. Designers Mohamed Hammam Chebel and Aditya Bayu Perdana were also involved. Visual surveys were conducted to approximate a 14th-century writing style for each different script because the Terengganu Stone Inscription was dated 1303 or 1308, depending on sources.
The animators and fabricators came at a later stage and worked with visual references I supplied. The aluminium sculpture was created based on a speculation of a missing piece broken off from the upper part of the Terengganu Stone Inscription. This speculation was initially proposed by Syed Muhammad Naquib al-Attas in his book ‘The Correct Date of the Terengganu Inscription’ (1972).
The work was first presented at the ILHAM Art Show 2022, what was the Malaysian audience’s response? Were they able to connect your interest in the Terengganu Inscription Stone with the 2019 debate on Jawi in Malaysia?
The Terengganu Inscription Stone was an artefact familiar to the Malaysian public as it graced the cover of an older edition of the Form 4 history textbook. Most could recognise the artefact and its affiliation with the Islamic heritage of present-day Malaysia, but very few would recall what was written on the stone. It is this surface recognition that I find fascinating. The Terengganu Inscription Stone is a pure image, iconic yet enigmatic and almost incomprehensible.
“My intent to translate an iconic object in the Jawi script is to consider how translation could play a role in navigating this conundrum. In ‘The Mercurial Inscription’, translation is a method of listening, a mode of care and of attending to others.”
I was exploring the topic of history and language with this artefact due to a nationwide debate in 2019 on the implementation of Jawi classes in vernacular Chinese and Tamil schools. The debate became intensely racialised as the Jawi script was inextricably linked to the Malay Muslim identity. The Chinese and Tamil vernacular schools were adamant about this imposition and sought for more conversations. Such resistance was often perceived as a challenge to the unquestionable supremacy of Malay culture in Malaysia. The stake was higher given the impression that the Jawi script bears an Islamic connotation. Collectively, these anxieties revealed a society with deep-seated Islamophobia, Jawiphobia, and Sinophobia.
My intent to translate an iconic object in the Jawi script is to consider how translation could play a role in navigating this conundrum. In ‘The Mercurial Inscription’, translation is a method of listening, a mode of care and of attending to others. When the audience encounters a familiar script, it provides an opening for engagement. And yet, translation does not guarantee comprehension. The audience may stumble upon a familiar script at random but the translated texts are seldom readable, in part due to the incompleteness of the original inscription, and in part, its antiquity. A person adept in the Malay language may not be able to comprehend the inscription because it was written in old Malay permeated with old Sanskritic, Javanese, and Arabic terms. Another who could read Chinese characters, assuming them to be inscribing the Mandarin language, would be perplexed by a Hokkien translation.
It is through such dialectics of familiarity and strangeness that I hope to defamiliarise one’s own tongue, to create openings for rethinking alterity. Again, this does not guarantee a resolution. Imagine reading an enemy’s grievance translated into one’s own mother tongue. What does it take to listen? What does it take to be with that person whose language we could not understand and whose situation we could not resonate with? Translation is beyond comprehension, beyond the act of comprehending or apprehending a certain meaning, but of being-with.
Why was the interactive element of touch sensors in the sculpture important?
The element of touch is extremely important in the installation. According to an account given by the colonial officer Paterson, the Terengganu Inscription Stone was originally placed as a step in a mosque. Devotees would wash their feet before prayers. The stone was therefore smoothened, and part of the inscription effaced due to friction. I find this account to be poetically affective, it epitomises the nuances of reading and translating. It is intriguing that an artefact of considerable salience was once frequently touched or stepped on, before being stored in a museum and clinically displayed for distant admiration. How a sacred object was musealised is consequent upon a colonial epistemology that enacts violence to the object itself. In certain parts of Southeast Asia, touching an historic object activates berkah or “divine blessing”, implying an unseen flow of intensity beyond visible matter. It is with these historical sensibilities that I insist on having an element of touch in ‘The Mercurial Inscription’. A touch is a gesture of care, curiosity even, but it also introduces friction and the potential of erasure.
Your work has been selected for the SAM S.E.A. Focus Art Fund and will join the Singapore Art Museum’s collection. What does this mean for you personally and your practice?
It is a tremendous honour for the work to find a place in the Singapore Art Museum, a prestigious institution in Southeast Asia. As a work addressing the politics of translation and multilingualism, I am equally curious to see how the installation will be curated or exhibited. Singapore is a locality that has a complex history of language politics, from the linguistic experiment with an idyllic “Engmalchin” (a portmanteau for English, Malay, and Chinese) to the contentious period of Nantah in the 1960s. Multilingualism is never a mere neutral language signalling diversity to begin with. It constitutes a space for linguistic and ideological contestation.
What made you decide to pursue a PhD in Southeast Asian Studies at National University of Singapore? And how did it impact your artistic practice?
Pursuing a PhD felt natural because I am passionate about research, writing, and pedagogy. I am also a bookish person, obsessed with text in itself or text as an image. The latter could come in the form of typography, which manifests in some of my works. But very early on, I wanted to be an artist without entering into a fine art department. I am intrigued by knowledge gaps between disciplines, and epistemic blind spots which become more apparent when you move across disciplines. What I could not satisfactorily interrogate in an academic publication, I would do so in the arts, and vice versa.
Nonetheless, years of academic writing have impacted my practice as an artist. I believe my later works are more layered due to my research interests, and perhaps, a higher expectation for critical engagement that came along with postgraduate studies. There is also a very delicate dynamic to maintain because academic thinking, by virtue of its demand for the written form and its tacit rationalism could impede creative thinking.
Any upcoming exhibitions or projects you would like to share?
Several projects are in order. I am developing a series of photographic works that capture a close-up of domestic debris gathered on the cocoons of household casebearers. Another series of works is relatively personal for it addresses mental health issues amidst the Covid-19 endemic. I have exhibited works from both these series before, so these are continuing explorations of existing projects. Concerning language and translational politics, I am currently working with the type collective Huruf (some of whom are from the hrftype foundry) to document the practice of hand-painted signage in select parts of Malaysia. The findings will eventually be published as a book.
This interview has been edited.