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Enter the artist studio

Throughout the history of art, the artist’s studio has not only been a place of creation, but also a source of inspiration. Often, it is a private place where artists test their ideas. Yet, it’s also a space that is rarely talked about.

Throughout the history of art, the artist’s studio has not only been a place of creation, but also a source of inspiration. Often, it is a private place where artists test their ideas. Yet, it’s also a space that is rarely talked about.

What exactly happens inside the studio of an artist and where are Singaporean artists working today? We knock on the doors of three practitioners in Singapore and beyond.

THEY WORK IN ‘HELL’

Statues of grinning human-head crabs, gargantuan crickets taking on pygmy elephants, a smattering of anthropomorphic tortoises standing astride some ostriches, and an assortment of dioramas of punishments in the Ten Courts Of Hell — yes, I’m talking about Haw Par Villa, home to more than a thousand Chinese folklore-inspired statues. Call it a bizarre amusement park or a whimsical journey through “hell”, but a group of artists have turned its pavilions into their temporary studio and exhibition space.

Until October, Chun Kai Qun, Chun Kaifeng and Elizabeth Gan are using the theme park’s unused spaces to curate four exhibitions under their recently developed curatorial platform Latent Spaces. As the name suggests, they seek to work with unused or untapped spaces to make and exhibit art, and other social entrepreneurial activities.

“I’m interested in analysing material culture, and what an expanded reading of the objects that surround us can tell us about ourselves and the society we live in,” said Chun Kai Qun, whose work often spans sculptural objects, installation and video.

Their first exhibition, Nameless Forms, engages with the (social) life and agency of objects. It will feature works by the Chun twins, Darren Tesar, Sai Hua Kuan and collective Yunrubin, which will respond to the place’s defunct exhibition halls, idle pavilions and the materials that were left behind.

Although Haw Par Villa’s heyday is long past, Chun remains interested in examining the nostalgia commonly associated to it, not simply as a longing for its physical place but as a desire for a different, slower experience of time. For Chun, Haw Par Villa is like an antique, an “object” that acts as a signifier of time, taking us back to the past.

While Chun has a studio at Goodman Arts Centre, the Haw Par Villa spaces offer him more control when creating large sculptural objects or installation, relieving him of the spatial and infrastructural constraints of a studio space within a centre shared by many groups of the wider arts community. “At Haw Par Villa, our exchanges are more focused, too, as we are in close proximity to artists with similar object-oriented practices and an interest in the languages of materials. People who visit the theme park come to see sculptures, too. We were very lucky to get this space,” said Chun, who is already preparing for his solo exhibition A Lifetime of Warranties, the third instalment of Latent Spaces.

A PLACE FOR CONTEMPLATION

Located at Telok Kurau Studios, artist Amanda Heng’s studio is spacious, with organised corners for collected newspaper clippings, posters, books, archives, tables and a discussion area.

One of Singapore’s most prolific contemporary artists, Heng is known for her works exploring themes of (self) identity, gender role and society’s relationship to urbanity. Heng’s artworks, however, were nowhere on the walls of her studio and were mostly wrapped. But why would there be works on display? After all, Heng’s works often span performances beyond the studio to public spaces, where she is able to engage a wider audience.

Heng first began making art at home, occupying even the kitchen and living room. In the late 1980s, she was part of Singapore’s first contemporary art group The Artists Village, creating and exhibiting together with its other members at its Lorong Gambas studio and, later, at the abandoned Hong Bee Warehouse that the group temporarily occupied before it was demolished. “It was the first time I made art in a factory. We were all using materials that we found in the space, too. We cleaned it up, made work there, and it was a space for exchange between artists. It was very liberating,” recalled Heng.

Today, Heng’s working process in her Telok Kurau studio, where she has been working for the past 17 years, has changed. “Using my studio to create work is not how I think of a studio. It’s contradictory to my practice,” she shared. Instead, it’s a place for multiple activities: Researching, receiving visitors, artists, students, hosting artist talks and more.

But it is also a space for some quiet time. “Spaces in Singapore are built upon and filled up so quickly. My studio space sets the stage for my contemplations, and it’s important that it remains uncluttered and conducive to imagination and critical thinking. It allows me to get away from everyday routine. At home, there are other roles to play. Here, I can be alone with my own thoughts,” she said.

ONWARDS TO JOHOR BARU

One artist who has chosen to work outside of Singapore — not for the first time — is Zai Kuning, who moved to Johor Baru only 10 months ago.

As a full-time artist, Zai found it more financially sustainable to live in Johor Baru, where living expenses, rent and art materials are more affordable. “It is difficult to financially sustain your practice as a full-time artist in Singapore. You have to take on many projects. Because of this, artists are pushing the speed of their ideas and not the quality of them. The pressure to survive as a full-time artist is betraying itself and that is a real concern. I would recommend to as many people as I can to come to Johor Baru, especially full-time artists,” said Zai.

Zai moved across the Causeway to also distance himself from the heart of a fast-paced city, although he visits Singapore every week. “I need a quiet space as well as time. It’s important to make art through a more natural, unforced process rather than one that is rushed or realised too quickly,” said Zai, who recently built a studio in his house. The studio, spacious and leading out to his garden, is filled with the artist’s drawings, various works-in-progress and a lot of beeswax, which he uses for his works.

The multidisciplinary artist, whose practice engages with various disciplines including music, film, performance, poetry and theatre, is currently working on a series of sculptural objects to be included in his forthcoming solo exhibition at Ota Fine Arts. Drawing on his research on the lives of the Orang Laut, the sea gypsies of the Riau Archipelago, this series of objects allegorises the impact of religious conversion upon them. Zai elaborated: “My intention is to find a poetic language to talk about these issues. I am trying to make poetry.”

Nameless Forms, the exhibition by Latent Spaces at Haw Par Villa, runs from April 6 to May 4. For more information, visit http://www.latentspaces.com/

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