Skip to main content

Advertisement

Advertisement

XXII | 4/5

SINGAPORE — It may seem a little strange for Sculpture Square — dedicated, as the name suggests, to 3D art — to play host to a show consisting almost entirely of 51 paintings. Coming from Joshua Yang of Vertical Submarine, however, you might be pleasantly surprised if you walked in expecting XXII (or Twenty-two) to be a straightforward exhibition of paintings.

SINGAPORE — It may seem a little strange for Sculpture Square — dedicated, as the name suggests, to 3D art — to play host to a show consisting almost entirely of 51 paintings. Coming from Joshua Yang of Vertical Submarine, however, you might be pleasantly surprised if you walked in expecting XXII (or Twenty-two) to be a straightforward exhibition of paintings.

At first glance, you might mistakenly assume that Yang simply painted over and over — the same scene of what looks like a faded photograph of two people smiling eerily in some desolate industrial landscape. Within seconds, however, variations begin to emerge, ranging from stark — one figure missing, for instance — to subtle — such as slight differences in colour or maybe one of the figures not wearing socks.

Other variations are present as well, zooming in on different portions of the basic image — close-ups of the background, say, or disquieting close-ups of the figures’ faces. Without having to tediously enumerate each and every one of the individual variations, one question surges to the fore — why? We’re moved to ask what underlies this multiplication of difference to the point that each individual image, unique as they are, fade in terms of relative significance next to the overall experience of the exhibition. Just as strange, as one moves through the space, is the sense sheer visibility — every painting’s visible from every corner of the gallery, perhaps playing with some notion of visual perspective, lending a sense of strained stability to the haunting imagery.

We’re told that the basic image comes to us from the only snapshot to survive from Yang’s youth after a 2011 flood destroyed his parents’ home. But as the exhibition progresses, there’s a sense that we might be in the hands of a rather unreliable narrator.

This impression comes courtesy of a looping, layered narration that fills the space, which ranges from fairly straightforward introspective ruminations on the whys and wherefores of this multiplication of imagery to speculative digressions on the questions and issues raised by the exhibition — quoting, say, Argentine writer Jorge Luis Borges’ linking of the bullet in the assassination of JFK with the blade that killed Julius Caesar, discussing the representation of time travel in popular culture, or navel-gazing about the show’s title.

It’s an experience not unlike plugging yourself into an art museum’s audio guide, only to find it lucidly deranged and prone to fantastical speculation. In effect, the narration dissects and analyses the exhibition at the same time that one experiences it. That might sound like an attempt to enforce a particular interpretation or point of view, as audio guides sometimes do, but the narration tends to raise questions rather than answer them. It adds a layer to — or maybe hijacks — the usual sequence of events when it comes to art exhibitions, in which analysis and reflection tend to take place after one has seen the show. Bruce Quek

XXII runs until July 30, 11am to 7pm, Sculpture Square, 155 Middle Road, Tuesdays to Sundays. Closed on Mondays. Free admission.

Read more of the latest in

Advertisement

Advertisement

Stay in the know. Anytime. Anywhere.

Subscribe to get daily news updates, insights and must reads delivered straight to your inbox.

By clicking subscribe, I agree for my personal data to be used to send me TODAY newsletters, promotional offers and for research and analysis.