Art KL-itique

What perhaps started out as a casual experiment, has evolved into something thoroughly engrossing. The fisheye lens effect is an obvious characteristic in Chin Kong Yee’s paintings, and its curvilinear lines inform human experience beyond the typical panorama. To the modern eye more accustomed at interpreting two-dimensional pictures than a real-time urban environment, a standard wide-angled capture is visually pleasing only because the horizontal plane is flat. Resigning ourselves to the static nature of a camera snapshot, the panoramic view captures more data but also less information. Changes in light and movement are typical painterly issues with depicting live sceneries, and the artist has settled into his solution by utilising the fisheye lens perspective.

Duomo Florence (2012)

Modern life demands a focus on foreground objects over background subjects, thus the vanishing point in Kong Yee’s paintings can be disconcerting initially, where the eye is drawn to the furthest thing in a scene. Such phenomena is straightforward in vertical diptychs like ‘Duomo Florence’ and ‘Dresden at Night’, where the tip of a building tower acts as an anchor, and paths leading from it fold upwards towards it in a rectangular picture. The horizon line is not lost but appears even more impressive in “Dresden in Blue’. A focus on Brühl's Terrace creates visual depth, and stretches the distance between the setting sun and its beautiful light reflected upon the Sächsisches Ständehaus. Graffiti scrawled on the stone steps enlivens this rendition of an old town square, where imperfections make up real memories.

Dresden in Blue (2013)

Inverting the bottom-up approach with a top-down view, a pair of “Flower” paintings transform European domes into tetramerous flowers, its base section effectively turning into the plant-form centre. These works on paper are less rich in colour but equally vivid, as Kong Yee’s visual effects are relatively more obvious, well suited to render a boy cycling by on an autumn day (in Amsterdam?). Also displayed in the exhibition are paintings done in Chinese inks, its watery effects less effective with the exception of the stream depicted in ‘Forest’. The fisheye lens appears to be more than a visual gimmick – if one stands still and observe the world around, its perspective is more real than a camera snapshot. As the saying goes, what’s the hurry, take your time, and smell the flowers. The vanishing point tends to be deeper than one’s initial impression.

The Flower - Orange Flower (2015)

The journey continues for Eddie Choo Wen Yi, now studying at Taipei National University of the Arts, as she records the island round trip 环岛 utilising her “Madline” apparatus on a motorcycle. Long haul rides result in oval-shaped doodles, while coloured inks mark in-town travel. Looking at the wall tracing of Formosa island and round shapes in the exhibited works, circular references denote a starting point that ends at the same spot. A trolley with the artist’s apparatus allows visitors to make their own mad lines on postcards, an enjoyable activity for one unable to draw a straight line. This contrivance is like an art-making pedometer, and exposes the banal nature of gestural expressionism, a popular mode in Malaysian paintings.

Installation snapshot

Furthering the Automatism concept is a cardboard box affixed with the recording compass, which Eddie handheld from Taoyuan airport, back to her home in Puchong. Accompanying this box is a stop motion video which documents this voyage, a period of physical displacement forgotten by the traveller, who typically only has recollections of one’s destination point. The artist herself edited out an airport stopover in her video, which goes to show that every journey has lost memories, as we go through the grand tour of life. In Chen Huai-En’s wonderful round trip movie Island Etude 練習曲, the teacher asks, “(H)ow is it travelling by yourself? Is it fun?” The protagonist answers with a laugh, “OK loh…”

The author's mad lines created with the artist's trolley with recording apparatus on exhibition postcard

What makes a holy site, holy? Looking at digital prints of 130-years old photographs taken at Makka al-Mukarrama and al-Madina al-Munawwara, it is difficult to reach a visual conclusion. As described in the catalogue preface, these two locations “…are specifically safeguarded by the Islamic jurisprudence and considered to be “harem” and are called “Haramayn” or “haremân” meaning two sacred territories.” Curiously exhibited at the National Visual Arts Gallery and not at the more prestigious Islamic Arts Museum, these historical captures are taken from the collection of Ömer Fahrettin Türkkan, an Ottoman commander and former governor of Madina. Astonishingly modern and beautifully shot, curator Mohamad Majidi Amir rightfully states, that “…a range of photographic techniques were seemingly used in an effective and scrupulous manner.”

Plan of Masjid Quba

An incredible panorama of Makka greets the visitor, where a mountainous terrain surrounds a city with a grand square, the majestic Ajyad Fortress still standing as the watchtower. Photographs of al-Ḥarām al-Sharif display a good variety – the square is filled with a faithful congregation during prayers, empty when renovation works are carried out, and there is even one snapshot of the Ka’aba immersed in water during a 1910 flood. In contrast, pictures of Madina denote a more fortified and spread out area. Memorable architectural features include gleaming domes at Baqi’ cemetery, and the beautiful cloister of al-Masjid an-Nabawi. Exhibited also are hand-drawn building plans that often display a practical sensibility, where the oft-centre palm tree or minaret helps to dispel the oversimplified notion of beauty and symmetry in Islamic art.

Makka al-Mukarrama and al-Masjid al- Ḥarām (1879-1880)

Many onion-shaped domes populate these pictures, and wall notes consistently remind of structures now demolished in the name of development. The laying of train tracks and road expansion works are shown, where dynamite smoke in one photograph triggers an uncomfortable association with a re(li)gion still embroiled in armed conflict. Saudi Arabia, the nation where these two sacred territories are located, also has one of the world's highest military expenditures. Its influence as the number one oil-producing country is unparalleled, evidenced from the timid international response to the recent crane collapse disaster at the Masjid al-Ḥarām, which claimed too Malaysian lives. These selection of Haremeyn photographs contributed by an Istanbul-based cultural institute, then become a useful counterpoint, at visualising holy sites during a pre-Saudi era. Was it holier then?

Masjid Quba Road (1916-1918)

“Thus have We made of you an Ummah justly balanced that ye might be witnesses over the nations and the Apostle a witness over yourselves; and We appointed the Qiblah to which thou wast used only to test those who followed the Apostle from those who would turn on their heels (from the faith). Indeed it was (a change) momentous except to those guided by Allah. And never would Allah make your faith of no effect. For Allah is to all people most surely full of kindness Most Merciful. We see the turning of thy face (for guidance) to the heavens; now shall We turn thee to a Qiblah that shall please thee. Turn then thy face in the direction of the Sacred Mosque; wherever ye are turn your faces in that direction. The people of the book know well that that is the truth from their Lord nor is Allah unmindful of what they do.”

- The Qur'an 2:144–145 (trans. Yusuf Ali)

Prayer at al- Ḥarām al-Sharif

“Clothing, in (Gaëtan Gatian de) Clérambault’s world, is considered a costume in the sense of a disguise, much in the same way as in folk traditions. (Diana Lui) transcends that exotic aspect staged by Clérambault. She spins around the codes and archetypes traditionally associated with such clothing by enhancing their symbolic value in a very lucid manner. This time, the photographer’s models, far from being instrumentalised, are given the full liberty to express their own story and their own interpretation of history in evolution through the traditional clothing they choose to wear.”

- Anne Biroleau-Lemagny, Curator in Photography Department at Bibliothèque Nationale de France

Totem #10 (2015)

Strolling around a spacious bungalow, one is drawn deeply to the exacting details in photographic portraits of women donned in ritual costume. In her insightful essay, Laura Fan describes the exhibited captures perfectly, “Diana Lui’s photographs of each subject strike an unusual balance between outward cultural affiliations displayed through their choice of ritual dress and deliberate signs of individuality. Signifiers such as tattoos or ancestral ritual jewellery reveal the elements of choice in the cultural affiliation of each person, and their right to represent themselves as they wish.” The majority of represented women have successful careers in artistic endeavours, and tend to come from families with mixed-ethnic ancestry.

Totem #12 (2015)

The exotic and the familiar repeatedly breaks and coalesces in the displayed images. Celebratory attires worn range from the elaborate to the elegant, from the monotonous to the colourful, from large ornaments to beaded patterns, from body-hugging curves to straight lines, from the pleated to the wrap-around. Each stately pose is accentuated by a backdrop of the model’s choice – house interiors, dirty walls, shaded outdoors – and the natural light that comes with these locations illuminate a subtle facet of each woman’s personality. Staring at them, it is a revelation to find out that these pictures were taken with a decades-old camera obscura, a romantic but effective metaphor for the act of gazing.

Installation snapshot of (2015) [l] Totem #8, and [r] Totem #9

Diana makes it clear that she is investigating her “…own identity as well as other women’s…”, by placing herself in between the wooden box and expressionist paintings, her hand seen holding a trigger connected to the camera’s shutter. The artist’s image undergoes the same deliberate and thorough visual scrutiny as the other portraits, although the black cloth she wears denotes an identity void within Malaysian cultural references. Traditional dress is recognised as inherited culture and occasional splendour, where the contemporary individual can appreciate its elegance to go with one’s hair colour or body tattoo.

Totem #13 (2015)

The most striking picture is of one Sabahan bead artist standing within Kota Kinabalu’s infamous graffiti building, her natural poise not giving away any information as stated in the wall notes, which describes the model as a recent Muslim convert who found beads in Mecca that were similar to her grandmother’s heirloom beads. Such supplementary explanations of personal stories, ethnic origins, and clothing histories, allow casual visitors to clarify assumptions and perceptions. ‘Nationality: Malaysian…’ are the first words printed on each label, this fact rendered redundant with the diverse figures on show. In a society that emphasises one’s nationality as a sign of belonging, these confident women in their humble abodes, become assuring icons of individual agency.

Totem #6 (2015)

Hung in the same venue are photographs from “The Essential Veil” (soon showing at Wei-Ling Gallery), Diana’s previous series that employs the same conceptual starting point as “Totem”. Local context marks the Malaysian series as more captivating, where a stunning pair of coupled portraits feature one Odissi dancer, and one Mah Meri weaver. Pictures of the latter woman present the model in her bark fabric wedding dress, the frontal capture in colour. Her back is shot in black & white, the image easily mistaken for a snapshot of indigenous people found in history books. Looking back at our roots, do I see the collective persona, or the individual personality? What contemporary view colours my vision? How many self-portraits do I need to take, before making my own?

Installation snapshot of (2015) [l] Totem #5, and [r] Totem #5a

Two lecturers set themselves apart from their students, by utilising unconventional mediums whilst retaining an attractive aesthetic value, although such gestures may not be enough to trigger innovation. The Malaysian identity preoccupies works by Bibi Chew and Sharmiza Abu Hassan, this search for a legitimate identity seemingly outdated in a time when reflexive personas are acted out within virtual communities. Plaster sculptures of food hang in pouches, and bunches of coffee strainers in varying shades of brown, are examples of attention-grabbing art which presentations are too obscure to be effective. Bibi’s always-attractive wooden board creations fare better with “Pigmentation”, a series depicting brain development, although the suggested reading of neutralised racial codes is difficult to empathise with.

Bibi Chew - Pigmentation #3 (2015)

‘Bridging’ by Sharmiza follows on an old series that play upon the Puteri Gunung Ledang fable, while ‘Country of Mind’ is an intriguing large creation that documents the physical terrain and mental state, when the artist last conducted pilgrimage duties at Mecca. Geometrical constructs are Sharmiza’s strengths, and her smaller collages are enchanting and thoughtful. “Organ Drawings” are encased within a hexagonal grid, the objects subjected to metaphorical additions that result in a multi-chamber brick heart, or a brain with construction cranes anchored upon it. “Stool Series” are simple deconstructions of hexagonal shapes juxtaposed with objects in an artist’s studio, presenting sufficient indicators of the artist’s emotional affinity with such forms. When the emotional quantum waves– as Hasnul J Saidon calls it – are apparent, the art is naturally better.

Sharmiza Abu Hassan - Open Heart series (2015)

Famous for his nude figures, or just its outlines, Khalil Ibrahim has sustained a long career as a full-time artist with his figurative paintings. In the retrospective at the relocated KL Lifestyle Art Space, it is indicative that Khalil’s artistic development has stagnated since the 1980s. Comparing two watercolour pictures of nude figures hung side by side – one from 1980 and the other from 2005 – the difference is not discernible, down to the disproportionate calves. For his current signature style, grey-brownish bodies evolve into primary colour forms, effectively diminishing the sensual elements. At its best, this abstraction denotes a loss of desire; at its worst, such pictures pander only to market pressures. Alas, the predicaments of a modern artist in Malaysia.

Khalil Ibrahim – Pantai Bali (2005)

Artists based in Kuala Lumpur and Manila exhibit works in “Tales of the City” at G13, assigned the theme to “explore the cultural complexities of urban condition in both countries”. Overlapping outlines and 3-D characters denote a crowded sphere, while oversized portraits and conflated symbols isolate singular objects from a perceived mass. Lovely paintings of shopfronts by Francis Commeyne preserve a vital sheen, which contrasts with the common approach of depicting aged stuff. In group shows with vague themes, works that has a specific reference point are the most potent. Gan Sze Hooi’s ‘Into the Jail’ see his cartoonish figures occupy a demolished heritage site – with its butterfly plan, Moorish gate, and ironic murals intact – and giant figures of authority looming over the commoner. This is not an image from the past, but an accurate capture of the present.

Paintings in Gan Sze Hooi's studio, for the "Tales of the City" art exhibition [picture from Gan Sze Hooi's web log]

Leave it to Tan Zi Hao to use Malaysian vocabulary to literally describe farting sounds, backlit for those who cannot read clearly the words displayed at squatting height. Together with Leo So, “OFFART” shows works encumbered with deep frustration at the local socio-political sphere, a week after hundred thousands of annoyed urbanites gathered at the heart of Kuala Lumpur. The alphabet ‘t’ as Christian cross, book passages, and an iconic gesture, are symbols manipulated by Zi Hao in his cynically biting expressions. Toilet humour is more overt in Leo’s creations, which neon green paint and illustrated flies cover his canvases. This event works wells to entertain visitors still holding onto post-Bersih emotions. Entering the exhibition space, one is greeted by a stenciled idiom about farting, and a large fly perched upon a blacked out politician’s head. Such SHIT have to elicit a smile.

[l] Leo So - Najis (2015); [r] Tan Zi Hao - Malaysian Politics 101 (2015)

Without proclamations of greatness, Art Expo Malaysia Plus 2015 was a subdued affair, which make for a pleasant walkabout. Group selfies were popular at booths showing eye-catching pictures, while Xin Art Space presented a wall of Pangrok Sulap prints, its sales proceeds going to the Ranau earthquake aid efforts. Hard-edged Japanese and Korean works do well to strike a balance, for viewers tired of surreal juxtapositions and all-over abstractions that characterise the majority of offerings at the fair. Great Malaysian works spotted include Seah Zelin at Taksu, whose “Vase of Flowers” are beautiful and contemporary renditions of a still-life subject matter. At Segaris, Tengku Sabri Tengku Ibrahim’s wooden creation preserves his personal style yet demonstrates an innovative streak, which immediately shows up the booth’s other showpieces as boring rehashes.

Installation snapshot of Tengku Sabri Tengku Ibrahim - Fragment #1: Broken Landscape (2015)

A collective made up of Shooshie Sulaiman, Anwar Suhaimi, and Izat Arif, occupy a Damansara Heights bungalow lot, turning it into a gallery space and al-fresco café. Its first show, “Otak Jepun”, presents Yutaka Inagawa and his surreal collages that are framed, tacked to the wall, and even folded into ventilation openings. The exhibition statement relates about a Japanese “visual and design language”, but nonsensical cut-outs stuck onto a white background are always a delightful sight, especially when metaphorical associations are ignored altogether. The choice of subjects and picture planes created become the main focus, and rewards the tired visitor with refreshing images. A giant duck placed upon a baby stroller waiting to fly, anyone?

Installation snapshot of "Otak Jepun" at Lorong Kekabu

Judging from its tacky title, it is easy to dismiss this exhibition as another blasé attempt by the local institution to promote a diplomatic agenda. To my surprise, it turned out better than expected. Despite its misgivings – “The French link is ambitious. I can’t seem to grasp how the works are ‘connected’”, says a visitor– the show should be commended for exhibiting 81 pieces from the national collection, some of which have been kept in storage for a long time. Curator Ooi Kok Chuen makes do with a limited timeframe, and puts together a decent number of works to occupy the cavernous space and poor ambient lighting in Gallery 2A. Good art helps one sidestep cynical concerns about institutional intent or curatorship, and there are many exhibited works worth a second look here.

Chew Kiat Lim - Pembebasan (1968)

Two portraits painted thirty years apart, project sincere and imperfect depictions of artists’ spouses. O Don Peris illustrates the intricate details of his partner’s wedding gown and flower bouquet, yet her calves and shoes are plainly drawn to the point of being farcical. Chia Yu Chian’s take fares better, where colourful flower patterns in the background do not overshadow his wife dressed in blue, but her left arm leaning on the sofa still looks awkward. Twelve works by Yu Chian are on display – more derivative in style include the angular strokes of ‘Jalan di Bandar’ and ‘Wanita – Lady’ which recall Lee Cheng Yong, while his characteristic Fauvist colours and close-up perspective come alive in later works like ‘Still Life with Wine Jar’ and ‘Petition Writer’.

Chia Yu Chian - Demam Pilihanraya – Election Fever (1978)

Another vibrant example by Yu Chian is ‘Demam Pilihanraya – Election Fever’. One Chinese aunty donned in yellow clutching a purse, and a Malay lady clad in red carrying a child, stand in front of a wall stuck with Barisan Nasional and Democratic Action Party posters. Coincidental as it is, one cannot help chuckle when looking at this 37-year old painting now. Picasso references manifest in distinct compositions by “the most Francophile” Tan Tong, and in the slit-eyed cow people of Tew Nai Tong. The incomplete painting on an easel in ‘To Be Continued’ by the latter, projects a poignant reminder of these two modern artists, who passed away two years ago. Displayed on the opposite wall are eye-catching works by Loo Foh Sang and Long Thieh Shih, as it becomes obvious that the hanging sequence follows neither a chronological sequence, nor a segregation by medium.

Tew Nai Tong - To Be Continued (circa 1970s)

From his essay, subtitled ‘Malaysian and Singapore Artists in France and the Nanyang Nexus’, it can be inferred that Kok Chuen drafted his catalogue essay before assembling the exhibits. Writing in his typical biodata-heavy manner, the curator makes mention of every artist who was artistically influenced during trips to Paris, emphasizing on the majority of students from the Nanyang Academy of Fine Arts who enrolled at the École nationale supérieure des Beaux-Arts. Georgette Chen is cited as an influential figure in maintaining this cross-continent academic link, but in the exhibition she is grouped together with other women artists, whose works are hung within a walled-off section deep within the gallery space. The write-up follows a similar structure, which explains the disorganised feeling when one navigates the exhibition or reads Kok Chuen’s essay.

Loo Foh Sang – Kota Terbang – Flying Fortress (1968)

With no Nanyang connection and dated relatively later, Chong Siew Ying’s large creations feel badly out of place, as her shadowy characters remind one of Tan Chin Kuan’s ghoulish figures. Within the awful pink walls hang five paintings by Georgette from the national collection, the earliest acquisition being ‘Rambutan and Mangosteens’. Abundance is signified in overflowing woven baskets, where visual interest draws from fruits laid across the table, and fleshy fillings tempt the hungry observer. In contrast, the older ‘Ikan Kering’ is equally captivating but differ significantly in tone and mood, the dried fishes conjuring up a sense of stale air in a dimly-lit storeroom. Her beautiful portraits render material texture in vibrant tones, a great example being ‘Raiga’ where the brushy background projects the sitter holding onto a turquoise veil...

Georgette Chen - [l] Ikan Kering (1940); [r] Rambutan and Mangosteens (1950)

...In contrast with Georgette’s luscious paintings, Lai Foong Moi’s works lack the former’s decorative flourish. Adhering to traditional composition conventions, landscapes such as ‘Menuai Padi’ have a high horizon line with a diminishing scale of figures. Pictures done in 1959 of an Iban dancer and a Dayak longhouse intrigue for its early depictions in Borneo, as I succumb to a heroic imagining of one Seremban-born 30-year old unmarried female artist crossing the sea to visit tribes located on a neighbouring island. Perhaps paying tribute to celibate womenfolk brought into Singapore as construction labourers, ‘Samsui Woman’ displays a more controlled brushwork. The artist skilfully presents the sitter as an iconic figure, despite her hunched back and stout limbs, complete with receding hills in the background.

Lai Foong Moi - Rumah Panjang Dayak (1959)

Next, four intimate works by Chen Jen Hao grab attention. Maroon rambutans hang within a Chinese scroll. One stern-looking young person seats cross-legged and is holding a book, the portrait’s outline highlighted with turquoise pastels. A well-built man sleeps on his side with arms extended, the fleshy thigh at the picture’s corner potentially mistaken for a photographer’s fingers caught in the frozen frame. Fishermen mend nets underneath a canopy facing the sea, a mountain visible on the high horizon line where sea and land meet. Having read about the queer narrative in Patrick Ng’s batik paintings earlier in the day, I circle back to Jen Hao’s topless men done also in the 1960s. The tender image of a sleeping man is a rousing one, and the cropping-off adds to the picture's enigma.

Chen Jen Hao - After A Hard Day (1963)

Head portraits done in wartime Muar by Liu Kang present faces with determined looks, which describe a socialist idealism popular at that time. Walking past works by Yeo Hoe Koon and Lu Chon Min, I suspend my presumptions of a useful connection between France and these exhibits, besides the factual references to art schools. Mid-20th century French art is associated with the Art Brut and Nouveau Réalisme movements, which are not represented here. Long Thien Shih writes for the 1991 “A Touch of French” exhibition, “(n)ow, a common trait among the Paris-trained Malaysian and Singaporean artists who are Mandarin literate is their “delayed” reaction to the Modernist Movement, a 20 years delayed reaction.” Moving onto abstract prints by Latiff Mohidin, this statement still unfortunately applies to much Malaysian art now.

Ponirin Amin - Di Pentas Mu yang Sepi (1979)

Ponirin Amin’s square grids denote many things – a functional connection, an aesthetic symmetry, a picture plane – even a political position, as in the multi-planar arrangement for ‘Alibi Catur di Pulau Bidong’. Powerful lines and catchy titles (‘→ !!!.....’ and ‘3 Sequences’) by Abdul Mansoor Ibrahim captivate, while Juhari Said’s ‘Baju Kurung, Petaling Street, Bombay dan New York’ evoke faraway spaces embedded within the linocut flower patterns. Hung beside are yummy mangosteens by Lim Kim Hai, and three intriguing works by Chew Kiat Lim. The latter’s batik creations project a sinister feel via surreal juxtapositions, while green hues and distinct shading in ‘Pembebasan’ transform a typical Nanyang subject matter into a tinted illusion. Rounding off this section is Ng Bee, whose stoic characters, hatched lines, and symbolic objects, present a uniquely attractive art-making approach.

Juhari Said - Baju Kurung, Petaling Street, Bombay dan New York (1993)

Seeing older works by established artists is a delight, as it offers potential insight into an artist’s evolution. Observable from labels too are the institution’s acquisition trend - questionable taste and all - such as the 12-year gaps that separate three works by Foh Sang, or the 10-year difference in collecting three pieces of from Hoe Koon’s “Bouquet”. Edith Piaf on repeat and a romanticised view of Paris, irritate me to no end; however, any attempt to re-present artworks buried within the national collection is a welcome initiative, in times when society demands transparency in public asset acquisitions. Perhaps, curators can be given the opportunity to put together four-monthly shows “from the collection of BSLN”, instead of a dreary year-long freeze frame of “Recent Acquisitions”. Finding the diamond in the rough, is worth the displeasure of seeing Ken Yang’s paintings again.

Ng Bee - God (2012)

A giant stick figure disposing off its head, greets the visitor into Chong Kim Chiew’s solo exhibition, where some works are attributed to the artist’s avatars. As if needing a punchline to pull together the group show, this mural utilises a universal warning sign to grab visual attention, its facile presentation unlike Kim Chiew’s typically less pretty creations. The icon nevertheless exudes the artist's confident charm, here daring the invested viewer to dispose preconceptions, or be blown away by its conceptual heft. Stickers delineate the manifested identities, its author and title (‘0 – Across your space, across his(her) space, across my space.’) constructing pronouns that describe a third dimension, alluding to a painterly issue confronted by artists for a long time. In Kim Chiew’s creations, time is presented as the third trajectory which alters spatial experience.

Installation view: (2015) [from l to r] Kim – Skin Time; 0 – Across your space, across his(her) space, across my space.; Topy – Exhibition Logo Design No. 1

Stating this approach in a direct and literal manner is ‘Skin Time’, an 8-hour slide show composed of 1-minute close-up stills of digital-format time inscribed onto human skin. Juxtaposing one’s biological clock with calculated running numbers, the projection was eleven minutes slower than universal time during my visit, which further highlighted one’s difficulty in experiencing time. This work is attributed to the avatar named Kim, “…an Asian who stays in USA…” who is probably a reference to Taiwanese artist Hsieh Tehching. While the latter’s performances are endurance feats that mark the human condition as art, Kim’s ‘Skin Time’ compacts the notion of time’s passing into a factor for gallery art appreciation. A suggestion to stretch the work’s concept further: price the video in accordance to one’s visiting time/ decision to buy/ MYR vs USD exchange rate on-the-day, etc.

Installation view of Chong Kim Chiew – Boundary Fluidity (2014 –ongoing)

Displayed in the next section are the papier mâché bricks of ‘Unreadable Wall’, rendered impotent when stacked up against a non-functioning revolving door. Doubling back to the main exhibition – “Boundary Fluidity” – eight tarpaulin canvases hang majestically from the ceiling, while a couple remain rolled up and leaned against the wall. One piece is laid out on the ground, shimmering like waves underneath the fluorescent lights. Ink and paint cover the polytarp surfaces, a number which underlying black and orange layers are exposed via cutting or peeling. Historical map lines are traced and overlapped, place names are written and erased, resulting in mostly ineligible markings. In a video last seen at Lostgens’, these individual tarpaulins are placed in isolated environments (beach, car park, road, etc.) in various physical states. Folded, immersed, covered, washed up…

Installation view of Chong Kim Chiew – Boundary Fluidity (2014 –ongoing)

Kim Chiew’s photocopied jottings stuck to the wall present clues to these obscure images. One A4 sheet circles Chinese characters that spell out inhibited and exhibited physical states, these words describing also emotions and actions in the Mandarin language. Sketches featuring old works associate material and colour, with dynamic gestures and static surfaces. By questioning the legibility of maps and mapping, the artist addresses the painterly issues of 3-dimensional representation on a flat canvas, also imbuing his works with the idea that time factors into depicting/ deciphering reality. History is a slippery notion and the future is unpredictable, yet the typical individual expends much effort to understand and relate the present to these two dimensions. Identity is a fluid construct, and the projection of time becomes the boundary.

Photocopied sketches and jottings by Chong Kim Chiew

These tarpaulin works have enough substance to stand (hang/ lie/ lean/ unfold, etc.) alone within a solo show, but creations by Kim Chiew’s avatars serve to distract then extend the conceptual limits of art making and exhibiting. Framed photographs of a spot of chipped paint, a wall socket, and the floor edge, intend to state the illusionary conceit of representations. But compared to its last arrangement at G13, or the stickers of wall cracks and door knobs stuck within Galeri Petronas two years ago, this intervention appears too passive and regressive. Hung nearby for good measure is ‘White Over White, Black Over Black-Map’. Pixelated squares depict a blown-up image of rolling waves, thus transforming this 2011 work into a metaphor within the show’s context. You stand on the coast, but look too hard and you may be sucked into the whirlpool’s centre. Be careful!

Installation view of Chong Kim Chiew – Boundary Fluidity (2014 –ongoing)

This show is not aesthetically pleasing, but the gravitas of its exhibited objects makes up for this deficiency. Tracing military trails and land formations on 8 by 6 feet polytarp obfuscates the viewer, then leads one away from the canvas. This counter-intuitive response to an artwork is demanded by the ambitious artist, in his persistent reference to the “third space”. By presenting the illusion of slow-moving flux, the artwork is never finished, the truth is never absolute. Persistent looking, thinking, and re-looking, is encouraged, thus cultivating an appreciation of visual objects where a narrative always shifts, and its focus warrants regular reconfigurations. Time passes. Questioning the ego in the act of seeing is perhaps nihilistic, but the pleasures gleaned from the reflective impulse of looking, is a truly thrilling one.

Installation view of Chong Kim Chiew – Boundary Fluidity (2014 –ongoing)

“Continual transition forbids us to speak of "individuals," etc; the "number" of beings is itself in flux. We would know nothing of time and motion if we did not, in a coarse fashion, believe we see what is at "rest" beside what is in motion. The same applies to cause and effect, and without the erroneous conception of "empty space" we should certainly not have acquired the conception of space. The principle of identity has behind it the "apparent fact" of things that are the same. A world in a state of becoming could not, in a strict sense, be "comprehended" or "known"; only to the extent that the "comprehending" and "knowing" intellect encounters a coarse, already-created world, fabricated out of mere appearances but become firm to the extent that this kind of appearance has preserved life--only to this extent is there anything like "knowledge"; i.e., a measuring of earlier and later errors by one another.”

– The Will to Power, Friedrich Nietzsche, s. 520 (1885) [translated by W. Kaufmann. 1968]

Mobile snapshot of Chong Kim Chiew – Skin Time (2015) by Sharon Chin, as published on 21st October 2015 in Notes on “Be Careful Or You May Become The Centre” at sharonchin.com

As Malaysians demonstrated unity by thronging the streets donned in yellow, many whom took the opportunity to “re-discover” the streets of Kuala Lumpur, it is a pity they did not venture out to Sasana Kijang for an invigorating dose of art. Intentional curatorship is unnecessary when broad categories are adhered to, and the extra effort here to pair pictures up make for a wonderfully pleasant walkthrough. Having seen many pastoral works hung on these walls, two pairs of collaged women stand out. Redza Piyadasa’s horribly garish ‘Two Malay Women’ sets off Norma Abbas’ ‘Two Heads Better Than One’ to great effect. Photocopied images of traditional dress are juxtaposed with the latter’s multifaceted women, whose short hair and trendy tops denote a cosmopolitan setting.

Norma Abbas - Two Heads Better Than One (1989)

In a clash of approaches, the formal idealism in ethnic Chinese artists is compared with the honest and straightforward depictions by ethnic Malay artists. In ‘Wedding Melody’, Eng Tay’s figures hold on to their banhus and stand aloof, in contrast with Harun Hj Bakar’s ‘Malay Classical Marriage’, where music is played and a convivial atmosphere exists via the couple dancing at the centre of this rather simple painting. A similar observation is made about works by Chuah Thean Teng and Dzulkifli Buyong. Teng’s profiled figures in ‘Combing Hair’ are encased in a circular frame, the adult’s strapless batik dress and dark skin tones referring to the exotic native. Whereas in ‘Searching’, two girls in baju kurung look for a cat perched upon a zinc roof, their gestures conveying lively enthusiasm and naive charm. The proximity with the subject matter at hand becomes obvious.

[l] Chuah Thean Teng - Combing Hair (1990); [r] Dzulkifli Buyong - Searching (1986)

Next pair in focus are the house interiors of Mastura Abdul Rahman and Chuah Chong Yong. The impossible top-down view in the former implies a divine eye that collapses visual perspectives, or perhaps just a cat’s viewpoint from the rafters. A more symbolic detachment is depicted in the latter, which point of view is at the stairwell behind a bamboo screen, a switched-on television outside further highlighting the personal isolation. Sabri Idrus’ hexagonal ‘Blue Cube’ captivates via its protruding shape, capturing as much attention as the gigantic canvas by Fauzan Omar that hangs opposite, which joins together symbols of development and nature in a Rauschenberg-like collage titled ‘Pembangunan Negara’. The flattened contemporary, thankfully, holds its own against the immediate illusion.

[l] Mastura Abdul Rahman - Interior No. 38 (1988); [r] Chuah Chong Yong - Interior - 2 (1993)

The great individual pieces about places on display include the beautiful overlapping lines and sky blue drawn in Victor Chin’s lithograph ‘Cascading Down Klang River’. ‘Kwong Siew Temple KL’ by Fung Yow Chork portrays a moody section within the 128-years old building on Jalan Tun HS Lee. Among the lovely watercolour paintings of buildings by Chin Kon Yit, ‘Masjid Zahir Alor Setar, Kedah’ stand out as a personal favourite with its slightly elevated perspective and for its cone-shaped trees. Unity is a reflection of individuals’ desires to live in a community, and showing the places we live and move in, can cultivate this sense of belonging more effectively than racial integration stories ever could.

Chin Kon Yit - Masjid Zahir Alor Setar, Kedah (1990)

"The persona is a complicated system of relations between individual consciousness and society, fittingly enough a kind of mask, designed on the one hand to make a definite impression upon others, and, on the other, to conceal the true nature of the individual."

- Carl Jung, The Relations between the Ego and the Unconscious (1928), CW7: Two Essays on Analytical Psychology, p.305

"Whoever looks into the mirror of the water will see first of all his own face. Whoever goes to himself risks a confrontation with himself. The mirror does not flatter, it faithfully shows whatever looks into it; namely, the face we never show to the world because we cover it with the persona, the mask of the actor. But the mirror lies behind the mask and shows the true face."

- Carl Jung, Archetypes of the Collective Unconscious (1935), CW9 Pt. I: The Archetypes and the Collective Unconscious, p.43

Chris Chong Chan Fui - Pekan Nabalu (2015)

The visitor sees oneself in four sequential frames while walking past mirrors into Black Box, which dispels the static characteristic of the selfie, a curatorial inspiration for this photography-based exhibition. Freeze frames as a narrative method are presented immediately in a hilarious series by Hoo Fan Chon, who documents his reaction after consuming alcohol, the body shots also a tender representation of cultural assimilation. Fellow Penang-based artist Okui Lala too focuses on outward appearances, capturing a cheerful visit to the hairdresser’s. Effectively light-hearted is the triptych ‘Pekan Nabalu’ by Chris Chong Chan Fui. Tourists taking photographs at a lookout point, either by hand or by tripod, describe lucidly what photographs mean to the majority of the populace – a documentary evidence of space and time.

Installation snapshot of Pang Khee Teik - MyMyKad (2015)

Identity as a social construct provides an appealing interpretation of the persona theme, seen in Pang Khee Teik’s puckish MyKads and Liew Kwai Fei’s subversive photobook. Philosophy paperbacks and sex toys in the former’s drawers present moral contradictions manifest within the definition of a citizen; the latter’s blurred magnifications of former classmates remind about a problematic public education undergone by Gen-X nationals that informed current prejudices. Lim Paik Yin shows a few captivating photographs, but the overall installation is too sentimental towards her own lineage. Nearby, Minstrel Kuik reconstructs photographs overlayed with a heavily pixelated mask, leaving one more detached the harder one looks at it. Sharon Chin’s Bersih-related illustrations are lovely to look at, yet the journalistic method renders it out of place within this exhibition.

Installation and book contents of Liew Kwai Fei - Muka Surat (2015)

Threading between the real and the virtual, two works project the digital nature of contemporary photography in a cheeky manner. Vincent Leong’s found photographs online (including one photographer that bears the same name as the artist) is equal parts sardonic and nonsense, while a pastiche slide show by the mysterious Specimen X delights with its crude yet effective portrayal about the online persona. Does each ‘Like’ dilutes one’s virtual presence? How much do old pictures of persons online, affect contemporary appreciation of the same person? Among many unnecessary lightboxes and obvious digital manipulations, Anna Rina’s captures of herself standing barefooted on a paved road – with ‘The Cleaver’ – stand out for its simplicity, and compels one to read the wall statement about her parents.

Slide show snapshots of Specimen X - Person A (2015)

Looking at Diana Lui’s shadow traces reflecting upon freeze frames by Sherman Ong, it is telling that the art practitioners (not photographers) do not project overt emotional content in their response to the curatorial theme. In an “Art + Photography” forum attended by people active in Malaysian visual art (myself included), the discussion around what is art and what is photography was inconclusive, unsurprising given the non-representation of a self-professed photographer (not artist) in the panel. Narrative was mentioned as a key criteria for successful art-making, an aspect lacking in this exhibition of mostly new works, where self-indulgence is mistaken for self-expression. High prices for some works exacerbate this siok sendiri observation, as I read in the news about another person who died while attempting a selfie.

Anna-Rina - The Cleaver (2015)

One audience member – likely an international school student – asked (paraphrased by this author), “if visual art is used to communicate something that one finds difficult to express in words, how do you feel when you now have to describe the completed artwork in words?” The question was directed at Agnes Arellano, Nadiah Bamadhaj, and Geraldine Kang, three artists invited to speak about their creations at “KataKatha Session with Artists”. KataKatha is a new cultural initiative sponsored by a regional bank, and run by Pusaka, whose director Eddin Khoo describes it as “…a gathering of minds and creative people, to explore the creative process, and to look at the aspects of creative life in Southeast Asia.” Its four-day program includes closed door exchanges and public sharing sessions, which documentation will be developed post-event for future exhibitions.

Nadiah Bamadhaj - Cina Wurung, Londa Durung, Jawa Tanggung (No longer Chinese, not yet a Dutchman, a half-baked Javanese) (2014)

Nadiah opened proceedings with a wonderful recital of words, which accompanies a captivating slide show of her drawings done in the past 16 years. The 17-minutes-long presentation narrated life events that shaped subject matter choices; one notices the jagged torn-paper lines prevalent in her works (even in the older ones), as a fitting form in illustrating social imbalances. Next, Geraldine browsed through her website and casually narrated concepts behind her photographs. The first two series featuring family members shown are intensely private and intimate, which contrasts with the daring implicit in more recent public space interventions. Audacious in disposition, Geraldine’s works project an urgency to confront, a characteristic perhaps attributed to her relatively young age, or having grown up in a “cluttered” urban city-state, or both.

Geraldine Kang - picture from "This city by any other name (Would smell just as white)" series (2012 - In progress)

Terming her sculpture installations as “inscapes”, Agnes walked the audience into her 1983 work‘Temple to the Moon Goddess’, with random musical notes ringing in the background. Body parts are a favourite motif, and an imagined recreation of her embracing parents who died in a fire, is hauntingly beautiful. Political expressions – of social community norms, in an urban Chinese family, under one religious authority – bind these artists together, and it is precisely these concerns that resonate with us that reside in Southeast Asia. Sustainable corporate sponsorship is a tricky business, and one cannot help wonder about the neighbouring country’s not-so-secret agenda to consolidate regional art forms and procure culture for its island state. Regardless, I am optimistic, as Nadiah’s succinct response to the above question reminds, that one “…creates your own language in art.”

Installation snapshot from Agnes Arellano - Temple to the Moon Goddess (1983)

Ooi Kok Chuen once described Sylvia Lee Goh’s paintings as “…a world unto its own; a snug, safe space filled with fond memories and her favourite things;” At this retrospective, her works emit a luminous, dreamlike quality that frighten more often than delight. Loneliness characterise pictures painted with staged ornamental details, often showing the cheongsam-wearing artist surrounded by well-tended flora, and/or resplendent Nyonya ceramic ware, and/or sumptuous Nyonya kueh. Adding onto the disarrayed perspective illustrated, the paintings' backgrounds are always dark, where objects are lit in the artist’s mind. As the artist tirelessly elaborates upon her eccentric worldview, I realise that self-indulgent paintings used to intrigue myself, but not anymore.

Sylvia Lee Goh - After A Thousand Years (1987)

Upstairs, ink paintings by Cheah Thien Soong also touch a cynical nerve with this visitor, as I ponder upon a general disinterest in Chinese paintings. The Nanyang style, as described in the local canon, depicts local landscapes with painting approaches derived from Chinese and European traditions. A NAFA graduate, Thien Soong paints bamboo, birds, lotuses, and trees, the resulting output supposedly invoking Buddhist mantras and philosophical idioms. Dense and tiny calligraphy populate most works, where natural scenes present a serene fantasy that function as empty symbols in this empirical world. Having visited many Chinese museums, ink paintings have never grabbed my attention, despite the attraction of other more crafty artifacts. This absolute lack of appreciation deserves a deeper self-interrogation, blank spaces and all.

Cheah Thien Soong - Borderless 无限 (2002)

skrej51: hi a/s/l?
elcric02: tbh idk jk
skrej51: wtf yolo lmao ur ig potd is da best 2moro yumcha?
elcric02: gtg my bff wants 2 go uptown 4 some art exh lols
skrej51: haha bojio art ftw (l)mirl? I stay near uptown can cu soon 2 have banana shake lol
elcric02: nvm its ok :p share a link wit u haha post-inter.net kthxbai
skrej51: kk will check dat out 143 ig plz cont posting chio pix ttyl

Snapshot from exhibition opening, featuring untitled performance by Sudarshan and Fairuz Sulaiman [picture from Minut Init's Facebook album]

Walking into the third floor shoplot space, the visitor is greeted with projector screens, a stack of papers on a pedestal, one turntable on the floor, and a couple mobile printers. Is this a post-internet art exhibition? Where are the digital renderings, the memes, or the video mash-ups? Does circle jerks refer to masturbating men? The curatorial statement clarifies, “…in employing this relational strategy was to open up themes via the performative dimension of messaging, rather than negotiate them as a central agency in full command of one’s own language, ‘gestalting’ a curator as an empty space between conditions that inform his identification with a consumer of information.”

Video snapshots of Michelle Proksell and Wang Rou - Confessional Chat Booth

As a confessional booth in the form of a YouTube playlist infers, this exhibition is put together from online chats, about the constraints of virtual interactions. Technology connects people from around the globe, but the chatroom is an enclosed area for recorded conversations, effectively trespassing physical personal space in its real-world manifestation. Nebulosus Severine’s ‘Too Many Flowers’ sets the scene via a burning Second Life room, with floating quotes that state gendered imbalances. ‘The Olo Method’ sees Katy Roseland copy-pasting chat messages between WeChat users without saying anything herself, thereby recording social inhibitions which are expressed in a coded and abbreviated language.

Installation video of Ikan Bilis - LOLog [video from Keep It Up YouTube channel]

Another one of Katy’s project and Gabriele de Seta’s “Radio 朋友圈” confine media sharing within a private circle. This cacophony of recorded sounds and phone camera pictures are meaningless by itself, but within the context of this exhibition, supplement nuanced forms of personal performance that stem from an innate need to express. Facebook news feeds from two opposing politicians are printed on purchase receipts, the amusing installation by Ikan Bilis questioning too the value of such rhetorical transactions. Social media perpetuates its own ethics – where clicks and scrolls become moral decisions – as I browse an Instagram account featuring sexual harassment messages. Who’s jerking around now? Lol

Video snapshots of Katy Roseland - The Olo Method

idk like risk ~~~~ pain ~~~~ behaviours
go hard on urself
push thru
painseeking contemporary culture pain discurse pain politics
666 \m/
high girls sleep outside
I think that’s from a poem by cristine brache but im not sure

- Excerpt from bbbRANKEVILVIOLENTPOLITICSDISCURSE, an email exchange between Aurelia Guo and Hela Trol Pis, exhibited at “Circle Jerks”

Video snapshot of Nebulosus Severine - Too Many Flowers

Transaction is a poor substitute word for exchange, given its materialistic insinuations. Yet material documentation remains the primary source and evidence, that activities were done, knowledge was exchanged, and experiences lived. 25 artists, activists, and community workers, gather at Jalan Petaling and Kampung Banda Dalam, to participate in a 12-day program to explore ideas and discourses around social interventions and participatory public art. As a non-participant, my only option to get involved is to look through a static exhibition of historical things. Maps, brochures, photographs, recycled objects, booklets, prints… Time to re-read and reflect again on Jay Koh’s Art-Led Participative Processes.

Installation view

“By comparing APS (Angkatan Pelukis Semenanjung) to PPMM (Persatuan Pelukis Melayu Malaya), I suggest that Hoessein Enas and APS’s ascendency marked a second moment in the development of modern art discourses in the Malay language during 1950’s Malaya. It also reflected a shift from a period that focused on aesthetic experimentation in search for an ‘art for society’. This can be seen in the post-war proliferation of published Malay art writings in Singapore, towards a new collective aspiration in Kuala Lumpur. This aspiration desired to affirm the political legitimacy of the Malay elite class and its position as leaders of the new Malayan and later Malaysian nation-state.”

- Moving Suara for Sovereignty: Reading the shifts in 1950’s Modern Art Discourses in Malay through Kamus Politik, Simon Soon, catalogue essay in Dato’ Hoessein Enas: From His Personal Collection, 2015

Hossein Enas - Study Sketch: Datuk Patinggi dan Datin (1988)

It takes a different type of corporate tycoon – the former long-time UMNO treasurer, no less – to demonstrate a different level of art philanthropy in Malaysia. Built on prime land, two floors within the Foster + Partners-designed IB tower are converted into gallery spaces, and sculptures by Ai Weiwei and Pinaree Sanpitak decorate its outdoor compound. The inaugural exhibition showcases artworks and paraphernalia from Hossein Enas’ estate, acquired by the landlord three years ago, along with a mixed collection of contemporary art. Hossein is well known for his depictions of Malayan & Bornean people for the 1962 Shell commission – a selection of which is now on display at the National Portrait Gallery – that cemented his reputation and career as a figurative painter.

Hossein Enas - Untitled 1973 work with pastel on velvet paper

Early paintings and incomplete sketches are framed and exhibited according to loose themes, informing about one traditional-minded artist whose academic style found favour with a number of dignitaries. Business cards featuring the artist's initials-as-emblem is displayed within a hanging box. Preparatory drawings document his formal approach, while generic portraits and waterfall nudes infer a genuine passion for depicting the figure. Works on velvet paper attract via its shimmery qualities, and offer a different take on velvet paintings typically associated with American kitsch. Family and self-portraits are the only completed paintings, useful for visitors not familiar with Hossein's output. Re-enacted at one end of the gallery is the deceased artist’s studio, where music from his record collection plays in the background.

Snapshot of Hossein Enas' studio re-enacted in ILHAM's 5th floor gallery

The more interesting works on display, are located near this section. ‘”WAHYU” Pertama’ overlays calligraphic text for dramatic effect, a rare departure in style. ‘Project for MINDEF’ presents an action-packed gun battle between an armoured ship, against armed men crouching on a speedboat. One charming 1970s Kuala Lumpur street scene is depicted in pencil and marker pens. ‘The Vanishing “Kolek Lichung”’ isolates a fisherman’s boat parked onshore, employing a nostalgic perspective that hints at the artist’s cosmopolitan outlook. Storyboard-like drawings of construction scenes inside power stations, better illustrate the exhibition theme as markers of one developing nation. Photographs inform the artist's approach to realism. The pastoral appears to be a guilty pleasure, and not an idyllic pursuit.

[clockwise from top left] Hossein Enas - Untitled; The Vanishing "Kolek Lichung" (1973); Tapak tempat Pengawas untuk Mesin No. 4 (1972); Project for MINDEF (1982)

Highlighting people diversity within our national borders is a main thrust in Tourism Malaysia’s infamous commercials, and the exhibition downstairs plays to the same theme. Greeting the visitor is a running LED display of words being shot down à la Space Invaders, ‘Kebebasan Asasi/ Fundamental Liberties’ by Yee I-Lann turning a classic game into a semantic metaphor. Natural rights is an alien notion to the majority of Malaysian nationals, especially for communities who speak the languages flashing by on the artist’s electronic board. This belief in a unified social contract is dispersed within the found photographs displayed behind the wall, where documented snapshots of life events on a staged background, project a contemporary longing via nostalgic forms.

Installation snapshots of Yee I-Lann (2015) - [top] Kebebasan Asasi/ Fundamental Liberties; [bottom] Through Rose-Coloured Glasses

Suitably onerous in describing the slippery notion of nationhood, looking at ‘Through Rose-Coloured Glasses’ is akin to reading personal histories written by someone else, where underlying desires are obscured in favour of an aggregated consensus. Utilising a monochromatic approach instead is Ahmad Zakii Anwar, whose walkway of ten charcoal drawings, depict Malaysian women in all its life-likeness. Despite the wall statement’s claims, there is no subversion of stereotypes, their looming presence only serving to highlight the renowned artist’s technical skills. In the multimedia room, I stand captivated by the three-channel projection featuring the three brothers from Bunohan. Director Dain Iskandar Said’s panoramas and close-up focus, render philosophical profiles through action and inaction, leading the universal viewer to empathise with a specific cultural psyche.

[from l to r] Ahmad Zakii Anwar (2015) - Perempuan Cina; Budak Perempuan Melayu; Installation snapshot of "Orang Perempuan"

Seen as a whole, the exhibition succeeds as a statement of power in representation. Hossein’s practice depended on official patronage, and the contemporary works dwell upon Malaysian identity as a surface construct, regardless of artists’ intentions. The gallery has also prepared learning guides, and started a regular cultural programming. Moving forward, how sustainable are these efforts? Why call this a public gallery when the space and commissioned works are owned by an individual? Will creative director Valentine Willie’s role be like Hilla Rebay's to Solomon Guggenheim, who promoted the avant-garde and unfashionable art? How will local contemporary art develop if only artists associated to the former gallerist are featured? Questions of cultural capital and art philanthropy remain unanswered, as I stare at Ilham digging deeper, into the sands of Bunohan.

Installation view and video snapshots of Dain Iskandar Said - Bunohan: Tanah Air (2015)

Gan Chin Lee writes at his web log (in 藝術與現實的念想之間, and translated by this author), “I am a painter, whose chief concern is to resolve painterly issues. My artistic expression is in the form of social realism; I still believe in realism and its distinct expression, which moves me deeply.” Seven diptychs draw immigrants within a localised setting, along with a single wall presenting captioned photographs and news snippets that support the artist’s documentation process. The contrast immediately stands out; as a reviewer describes, “…works in In-Between are divided into two: a large section drawn and coloured in a more realistic manner, and an accompanying piece presented in a more raw “work-in-progress” style.” Like wine with good food, the majority of pairings are forceful. Why are the diptychs not a problem when I first saw the exhibition?

Self and the Other (2013-2014)

Representing people is Chin Lee’s intent, and figures are the dominant subject in his paintings. A couple of older creations display a hesitancy that informs his execution in later works. For ‘Reunion Island’, nightlife on two island republics are stretched into wraparound scenes via shop lot fixtures. Street walkers and neon signs indicate seediness, while most persons are blacked-out in a failed attempt to emphasise via negation. In ‘Self and the Other’, one shabbily drawn old man and a transparent figure, confuse the viewer. Nonetheless, the white-skinned figure leaning at a stairwell acts as the catalyst in this exhibition, and imparts a focused virtue to Chin Lee’s portraits of foreign workers. This evolution manifests in ‘Phantom Existence’, where suspicion towards dark-skinned migrants escalated in the form of public abuse, during the last General Elections.

Phantom Existence (2014)

If overlapping figures are too literal, and blackened heads are visually simplistic, what can a painter do to present the under-represented? Chin Lee’s deliberate use of white to identify his subjects is jarring at first sight, yet its aesthetic and metaphorical impact complement the artist’s precise compositions, in highlighting a common Malaysian prejudice. In his works, one always sees the second largest figure first. Scale is an obvious concern, evident from jotted notes on the exhibited sketches. Focal points on the horizon and diagonal planes are effective illustration tools; when a crowd emerges from a building in ‘Islamophobia is a New Form of Racism’ (originally titled ‘Self and the Other III’), colour tones are utilised to depict visual depth. Looking at the red lining of the larger-than-life character’s eye, such detailed flourishes anchor painted pictures in realism.

Islamophobia is a New Form of Racism (2015); Close-up snapshots below

In the Russian and Chinese traditions of social realism paintings, depictions of an objective reality within an idealised commune is utilised to promote workers’ ethics. Echoing this ethos, labourers in a palm oil plantation are captured in ‘Breadwinner’, but its elevated overseer viewpoint infers a power hierarchy at play. Sunny reflections on the ground describe a beautifully drawn landscape, and illuminate also the general context here – migrants toiling in cash crop plantations for a living. Sound familiar? The exhibition’s largest diptych ‘Post Colonial Encounter’, dins this point home further. Extending from one arms-on-waist man at a distant house, wooden houses line the sides of paved roads in a new village. An uncle in denim and a migrant mother with her children, go about their business in overcast weather, so what’s the problem?

Breadwinner (2014-2015)

Painting on jute denotes a gestural interpretation of the in-between, an Edward Said term that describes the complex differences (including cultural disparity and economic exploitation) between colonial powers and colonised subalterns. Its manifested result – the hybridised identity– aptly describes Chin Lee’s concerns in his restating of the current situation within one’s communal history. In the work-in-progress panel for ‘Post Colonial Encounter’, a lady stares out at the viewer with a forlorn look on her face. Such moral statements are made also in another two diptychs, which point to one’s struggle in reconciling lived experiences with media-fuelled popular opinion. Social integration of migratory peoples inevitably results in conflict, and introducing an ethical viewpoint dilutes realistic observations.

Post Colonial Encounter (2015)

There are no such issues with ‘No Place for Diaspora’, a vivid portrait of an elderly Rohingya sleeping on the sidewalk, accompanied by a top-down depiction of travelling boat people. With its direct reference to a humanitarian crisis, this work caps off my realisation that this exhibition is made up of a collection of standalone paintings. Social integration is cited as an exhibition theme, yet Chin Lee’s accomplished creations are still subject to its presentation context within an art gallery. Social realism as an art form supports revolutionary narratives for political mobilisation; in a Bangsar house, work-in-progress panels display simple contrasts and painterly effects that attract individual collectors. Here, a painter negotiates in between his personal concerns and making marketable works. If acculturation is relative, who or what is the dominant mode?

No Place for Diaspora (2014-2015)

“A critical stance against the absurdity of social reality has always been a characteristic found in works by many ethnic Chinese and Indian artists in Malaysia. They have adopted a creative path to explore, construct, reproduce and deconstruct the history of their immigrant forefathers in order to cope with their identity crisis. However, Gan adopted a different path. He diverted his attention to the current crisis and the influx of a new generation of migrants in Malaysia. It is in the eyes of these communities that Gan fills the gaps of his past.”

- Painting as the Path to Social Landscape, Nobu Takamori (trans. Chen Shaua Fui), exhibition catalogue for In-Between (2015)

Snapshots of painting close-ups, sketches, and photographs at "In-Between" (2015)

Modern Malaysian artworks are rarely spotted outside private homes, and one has to rely on auction houses and galleries for such viewing opportunities. Walking into Fergana’s “Collectors Show”, the visitor is greeted by a dramatic Ismail Mustam picture, balanced out by an uplifting scene by Ibrahim Hussein in similar hues hung at the side. Sensual forms appear too on recent paintings by the former, which along with abstract works by Jolly Koh and Syed Ahmad Jamal, surround an astonishing steel sculpture titled ‘Mengadap Rebab’. Mad Anuar Ismail depicts the opening ritual in Mak Yong as a network of elevated islands, where the orchestra musicians and Pak Yong surround Tok Minduk, the five stylised figures perched upon a three-prong base.

Installation snapshot of Mad Anuar Ismail – Mengadap Rebab (2009)

Exaggerated forms inject vitality to the troupe, a figurative expression echoed in the preparatory drawings by Joseph Tan displayed in the row behind. Anurendra Jegadeva once described Joseph’s studies as “extremely methodical”, but looking past precise curves and measured spaces, the illustrated motifs present alternative ideas to his seminal work ‘Love Me in My Batik’. The lady lying on a bed in a vulgar pose, would have projected a controversial illusion, when the social commentary was about the two-dimensional construct of one national identity. Another mock-up had a Tricolore background and “BATIK LUV” letters that that can be read as “BIL AKU TV” vertically.

Joseph Tan – Graffiti Series (1969)

Structured compositions dissolve into complex emotions in the powerful ‘Graffiti Series’, a recreated wall scrawled with angry words, and (as the exhibition organiser informed) the artist’s blood. No words can explain May 13th adequately, and this piece should be included among the artworks typically mentioned as responses to the 1969 riots (Ibrahim’s flag, Lee Kian Seng's sculptures, Redza Piyadasa’s casket, et al). While the next section has some fantastic examples of Fatimah Chik’s batik creations – especially in terms of layering motifs as a symbolic space – one has to backtrack to Joseph’s fellow New Scene artist Redza and his ‘Baba Family’, in order to complete a tour of Malaysian modern art.

Installation snapshot of Faitmah Chik (l to r): Gunungan (1993); Gunungan (1987); Nusantara Sunset (1986) [picture from Fauzi Tahir's Facebook album]

Redza once described the expressionist paintings of Jolly and Syed Ahmad as “highly personalised emotive statements”; looking at the garish collage and wooden constructs titled “Homage to Malevich”, it appears to be a case of the pot calling the kettle black. Form and colour are always non-objective concerns, and in the paint cracks that reveal halved lap wood joints in the black & white ‘Homage’, the pictorial support literally falls apart with time. More interesting are its transparent shapes and hanging possibilities, where one resembles a digital Chinese ideogram, and the slatted purple ‘Homage’ reminds of a bed base or window blinds. Mimesis is dead, long live mimesis!

Installation snapshot of Redza Piyadasa – Homage to Malevich (1972) [picture from Chai Chang Hwang's Facebook album[

Not fond of the gestural brushstroke too is Ismail Zain, who etches natural and organic forms to accompany a selection of generic shapes, which describe ‘Monument’. Stencilled motifs emerge from the black background, and the monotone seems suspiciously spiritual in matter. Completed with a computer 22 years later, ‘Memorial’ presents the perfect counterpoint to ‘Monument’. Thick vertical lines encase foliage like a goodbye ode to nature drawings, the nest-like slash marks at the bottom parodying the heroic actions of painting. While the grand modern narrative may be Abstract Expressionism vs Minimalist Conceptualism, I am just glad to see these works exhibited in a publicly accessible place.

Ismail Zain – [l] Memorial (1988); [r] Monument (1964)

Two giant bent cigarettes lie on the ground, the masking tape around it reminding one not to touch this glossy object. Look hard at Robert Zhao Renhui’s photographs and the camouflage falls away. Unlike Chris Chong Chan Fui’s botanical drawings, which the exhibition catalogue informs are actually artificial flower renderings. An overhead projection shows a rope floating in the sea, or if one prefers to sit, there is a six-minute video focusing on the far end of a void deck in Singapore’s ubiquitous apartments. A row of small photographs capture cineplexes from a bygone era, while colourful furniture and posters are displayed nearby. The gallery entrance is painted in yellow and black diagonals like a barricade, and the only available wall text is a description of a national flag. This is contemporary art, as curated in Singapore.

Installation view of Perception3 - Terminus (2008) [picture taken from Michael Lee's Facebook album]

As “…an exhibition that commemorates neighbourly ties and shared affinities”, it is difficult not to feel comfortable with the show’s polished execution. Despite Singapore’s well-known cultural propaganda efforts, it is a mistake to charge the exhibiting artists as complicit to this cunning agenda. Given that the chosen Malaysian artists are recommended by the same source, comparing artworks from both nationalities also become irrelevant. Focus on the commonality, then. Detected in many artworks is a deeply-coded subversion, that manifests the issues of people living under authoritarian societies. Uneventful moving pictures in Charles Lim’s “Sea State” series, and ‘Terminus’ by Perception3, offer meditative scenes for viewers to reflect upon nation-defining spaces. Nearby, Yee I-Lann’s “Orang Besar” series draw significant potency, every time a VIP looks at it.

Malaysian and Singaporean Prime Ministers looking at Yee I-Lann' - The Orang Besar Series: YB #1-10 (2010) [picture taken from The Straits Times news portal]

Ironically, exhibits displayed under the Culture banner, are the least attractive. Graphic design and role play odes to Malay cinema add little to its source, while a couple of digital photo frames and typed poems present weak attempts at expressing stirring truths. Unassuming displays by Michael Lee and Vertical Submarine remind one about seeing art within the context of its space, which leads to a re-looking of Chun Kai Feng’s ‘Nobody to Hold’. Having encountered it twice in Singapore and dismissed it each time, this glossy sculpture would not be out of place as a bench in a Malaysian public park. Bending a cigarette at its butt reduces its potency; doing a double and laying it on the ground like litter, recalls clean streets (and its metaphorical synonym with that) of the island state. That it is constructed from industrial materials, only adds to its artful lustre.

Chun Kai Feng - Nobody to Hold (2013)

chi too’s long-titled book shelves, and Heman Chong’s 148-words ‘The Singapore Flag’, stand out for its concealed materiality. In the former’s wonderful constructs, formal characteristics like line and colour are embedded with additional dimensions like physical divide and shadows. Overlapping alphabets in the latter depict the forceful nature of an official description, thus granting yet limiting too the power of one formulated statement. When viewed together, these artworks invoke strong metaphorical interpretations “…for the pondering and understanding of ideas pertaining to nation, nationhood, and nationality”. Building bilateral relations via shared culture seems like an agreeable diplomatic strategy, until one realises that nations need to utilise culture as a unifying factor, while culture do not need nations for anything.

Installation snapshot of chi too (2015) - [l] Kompartmen: Ruang-Ruang Untuk Merenung Dan Memahami Ide-Ide Berkaitan Hal-Hal Negara, Kenegaraan, Dan Kewarganegaraan (Compartments: Spaces For The Pondering And Understanding Of Ideas Pertaining to Nation, Nationhood, and Nationality); [r] Kompartmen: Ruang-Ruang Untuk __ __ __ __ __ __ __ __ __ (Compartments: Spaces __ __ __ __ __ __)

"Bendera Malaysia mengandungi 14 jalur merah dan putih (melintang) yang sama lebar bermula dengan jalur merah di sebelah atas dan berakhir dengan jalur putih di sebelah bawah, tanda keanggotaan yang sama dalam persekutuan 13 buah negeri- Johor, Kedah, Kelantan, Melaka, Negeri Sembilan, Pahang, Pulau Pinang, Perak, Perlis,Sabah, Sarawak, Selangor dan Terengganu dan Kerajaan Persekutuan. Bahagian yang berwarna biru tua di atas sebelah kiri membawa ke bawah hingga atas jalur merah yang kelima itu maknanya perpaduan rakyat Malaysia. Bahagian biru tua itu mengandungi anak bulan tanda Agama Islam - agama rasmi Malaysia. Bintang pecah 14 itu tanda perpaduan 13 buah negeri dan Kerajaan Persekutuan. Warna kuning pada anak bulan dan bintang itu ialah warna Diraja bagi Duli-duli Yang Maha Mulia Raja-raja."

- Description of the Malaysia flag, from the Jabatan Penerangan Malaysia web portal

Close-up snapshots of Heman Chong - The Singapore Flag (2015)

In the catalogue essay titled Rhapsodies of A Different Kind of Singularity: A Celebration of Malaysian Outsider, Naïve and Self Taught Art, curator Tan Sei Hon states the reason behind his interest in artists categorised as stated. “…(D)ue to their unique and personal approaches which differ markedly from the academically trained and conventionally inclined. Their private visions, fantasies and yearnings materialised in their own visual vernacular offers us a glimpse of the dimensions of the self unbounded by the tyrannies of conformity and standardisation. They believed unswervingly in their own artistic ingenuity and stubbornly refuses to sheepishly observe aesthetic formalities still shackled to dated or popular ideas about ‘Art’ taught in art academies, celebrated in the mainstream and sold in the marketplace.”

Installation snapshot of Cheev – How High Can You Dance? (2013)

As an art enthusiast, I have to utilise formal knowledge to appreciate the artful creations exhibited. The paintings of Ismail Baba and George Daniel fall under l'art pour l'art, while diety-like figures by Waja and Ummi Natasha project an unfashionable religious slant. Enchanting qualities in Gaelle Chong’s and Melissa Lin’s illustrative works draw upon surrealism. All-over lines and shapes by Fathullah Luqman, and the beautiful swirls in Dennis Chan’s paintings, fall into defined genres and are excellent interpretations of it. Active in non-mainstream communities, the visual styles of Rat Heist and Pangrok Sulap are well-established and expectedly striking. Why are artists who have shown at the Singapore Biennale (Shieko Reto and Jainal Amambing) considered outsider art?

Installation snapshot of Thangarajoo Kanniah – Atomic Scape Series (2009)

A number of artists show potential to be contextualised in contemporary art terms. Pyanz Sharifudin’s use of henna relates to cultural connotations of the human body, while Thangarajoo Kanniah’s presents mysterious yet attractive compositions with cosmic forms. A mainstay in Publika’s Art Row, Adeputra Masri displays the attributes necessary to join the exclusive club. In ‘Benteng Akhir’, plasticine is moulded into grotesque figurines and photographed, then overlaid with camouflage designs and newspaper cut-outs for a splendid projection about politically-motivated resistance. Equally potent despite its irrelevance within the show’s context, a string-less violin crafted by gallery owner Chan Yong Sin is exhibited together with his anthology of poems, written during his eleven years detention under the draconian Internal Security Act.

Adeputra Masri – Benteng Akhir (2014)

With news of pusillanimous politicians supporting creation of the more insidious National Security Council Act, one seeks respite from a hopeless feeling via beautiful art. Cheev’s scrap wood sculpture ‘How High Can You Dance?’ is undeniably raw, yet its exaggerated toe and wonderfully lithe arms contribute to an uplifting mood. Nearby, intricate drawings by Shanthamathe fascinate with an amazing array of fine patterns, as I learn that both artists suffers from physical illness. Looking at the totem heads in Rahmat Haron’s paintings, sincere personal expression prove attractive when it is not muddled by grandiose statements. Insiders call others outsiders, and seldom the other way round. Exclusion is a tool of power, and the Malaysian art world could do well to self-reflect and shed its many pretensions.

N. Shanthamathe – Power (2014)

“Sebuah violin yang bisu, Di dalam perutnya, Tercatat nama pembuat, Pada tahun 1972, Di tebing Sungai Muar.
Cikgu Sa’at pernah menggeseknya, Beberapa buah lagu Melayu asli, Bunyinya tidak begitu merdu dan bersedu-sedu, Bagaikan suara orang tahanan yang terseksa, Cikgu memuji pertukangan violin itu, Dan memesan pembuatnya pasti menjagai, Violin tunggal dan mahal tak dapat beli.
Selepas dipindah dari Muar ke Taiping, Kemudian dari Taiping ke Batu Gajah, Dalam perjalanan pemindahan terhuyung-huyung, Akhirnya ditimpa kejadian berdarah, Violin bersedih dan terus bisu.
Maka ia tidak berbunyi lagi, menemani si mogok lapar yang menderita.”

- Violin Yang Bisu, Chan Yong Sin [from Bebas, published by Gerakbudaya, 2014)

Installation view of Chan Yong Sin – Violin yang Bisu (1972)

The Flower @ Wei-Ling Gallery

馳續徑行 Madline 2.0 @ Lostgens'

Haremeyn @ NVAG

Totem @ Alliance Française de Kuala Lumpur

DUOA: Eternal Duties @ HOM Art Trans

Snippets: Q3 2015

The French ConneXion @ NVAG (I)

The French ConneXion @ NVAG (II)

Be Careful or You May Become The Centre @ Wei-Ling Contemporary

Symphony of Unity @ Sasana Kijang

person(a) @ Black Box

KataKatha Session with Artists @ KuAsh Theatre

The Enduring Heart in Nanyang Ink Painting @ NVAG

Circle Jerks @ Minut Init Art Social

TransActions in the Field: Archive Exhibition @ Lostgens’

Picturing the Nation @ ILHAM

In-Between @ Richard Koh Fine Art

Collectors Show @ White Box

Art Next Door @ White Box

Singular Rhapsody @ Xin Art Space