Art and the question of weed

Hah. Bet you did a double take there.

But no, we’re not talking about that particular plant but weeds in general, courtesy of a lecture held last night as part of Zaki Razak’s work for the President’s Young Talents show at the Singapore Art Museum.

Scientist-turned-artist Isabelle Desjeux, who’s this month’s presenter for the ongoing lecture series Revising Art: The Ten Year Series, extolled the virtues of weeds.

But first, let’s rewind a bit to last week. An interesting moment occurred during the PYT awards night, when Zaki presented President Tony Tan with an unusual namecard. Embossed in gold on the black card was the statement: “I am not an artist / I am not important”. Underneath this, he quotes the Koran: “Give your money to your parents and kindred and orphans and those in want and for wayfarer.”

Done ever so casually that no one knew about it until a photo of the namecard was posted on Facebook (and when Zaki mentioned it to me that night, I thought he really just meant passing a namecard), the entire gesture references Tang Da Wu’s own presidential encounter in 1995.

During the Singapore Art exhibition, Tang had worn a black jacket with the words “Don’t give money to the arts” written in yellow at the back. He then presented then-President Ong Teng Cheong with a note that said, “I am an artist. I am important.”

There are a few ways of reading Zaki’s Da Wu-ish moment. As irony, of course, but also without irony.

But however you read it, I would like to think of it as an extension of his Revising Art project, not only in relation to its dialogue with a previous artistic act of historical importance but the very point of this whole idea of setting up a tent outside of SAM as a kind of alternative structure.

He is not an artist/important and please, Zaki’s namecard says, give your money to other people instead. Here is resistance to the special status afforded to the artist, which is underscored by a tent where a whole range of discourses, it is hoped, will thrive. In connection to art but going beyond it.

The first few sessions had people learning about cooking samosa, the “art of listening” and of public speaking. Later on, you’ve got a lecture on spirituality, I think, and so on.

And then, of course, you had last night’s talk about weeds.

It was hard not to think of the whole discussion about weeds as a kind of analogy—the unwanted presence, the chaos, the wild and random nature of it amid uniformity and clear categorisation.

The metaphor became even more direct when, at the end of the lecture, you’re given the option to plant “weed bombs” of these weeds outside of SAM. One possible point of this act, said Desjeux, is to see to see if it will literally work or fail, i.e., if it succeeds in growing or not.

My “weed bomb” probably won’t, but one actually has.

In its delightfully ambiguous way, the tent itself is a kind of weed. Commissioned by SAM as part of PYT, it’s not part of the group but outside on its own.

While it’s somewhat similar to Felicia Low’s own previous PYT work (which saw audiences participate in creating pieces for the room), Zaki’s isn’t visually or tangibly cumulative — when there are no lectures (which happens twice every first week of each month) it’s practically empty.

Compared to the rest of the PYT works, where you actually check out something, there is no actual “product” here when there aren’t any lectures—just documentation.

Heck, the tent’s very presence on the SAM lawn literally seems off — it’s not even set up at the centre, but to the side.

And yet it’s there. And it’s going to be there for quite some time, growing in its own niche even as it continuously creeps away from definitions and expectations.

Yep, there’s something beautiful about weeds.

(The President’s Young Talents exhibition runs until Sept 15. For updates on the lectures under the Revising Art: The Ten Year Series tent, visit SAM’s Facebook page. And if you’re curious about Desjeux’s weeds project, check out her website http://observartoire.wordpress.com.)