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Wudu @ Minut Init Art Social

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Ablution – the act of washing oneself – is a common ritual in many cultural and religious customs. Practical upkeep of personal hygiene becomes a symbolic cleansing gesture. In Sophia Kamal’s paintings, this practical-symbolic line of reasoning walks a tightrope, as the act of removing makeup becomes synonymous with the Islamic ablution procedure of Wuḍū. The water-covered faces in ‘I Am A Dream Still Dreaming’ and ‘Milk and Honey’ depict different stages of one washing up, its symmetrical physiognomy pointing to the paradox of showing beauty. Why put on makeup if it conceals the truth? What is clean and what is pure? Why paint if the truth can never be painted?

I Am Never the Same, Twice [picture taken from Sophia Kamal's Behance site]

Prominent facial features, slender fingers, and dramatic poses, identify Sophia’s subjects as real life models. Pink and turquoise hues highlight a prettiness that do not diminish, despite the figures’ fidgeting gestures and anguished tone seen in a number of works. Feminine concerns underlie bold stares in some creations, and the absence of expressive brushstrokes portrays a fragile confidence, especially in close-up depictions of skinny hands. This intimate approach departs significantly from other local artists who illustrate self-doubt – where melancholy manifests in figurative gestures, sombre moods, nostalgic effects – and drawn in an over-large scale that dilutes the picture’s impact.

The Freedom in Fear; I See What You Do Not See; Ocean Breathes Magic [picture taken from ibrokemyshades.blogspot.com]

A dozen small works occupy one wall and emit an iridescent glow, indicative of Sophia’s venturesome decision to exhibit with fluorescent lights. The artist’s studio is recreated on the gallery’s floor; vivid colours and illustrative details are subdued in this setting, but contribute to an overall introspective mood. Sophia’s pastel creations are the most attractive, and her hand drawings contrast with politically symbolic gestures commonly seen in local art. Looking at the artist’s previous student presentations, works such as ‘I Am Never the Same, Twice’ and ‘What Love Isn’t’ were last hungupside down, where the latter looks like a surreal landscape of ridges and cavities.  I need to wash my eyes.

What Love Isn't

TP II by Cetak Kolektif @ HOM Art Trans

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Compared to recent painting exhibitions that examine the act of painting beyond just image-making, creating prints are relatively straightforward. Even so, a good understanding of one’s medium is a pre-requisite in contemporary art. Surreal and abstract pictures describe the majority of exhibits here, where colourful silkscreens with subversive intentions fail to impress. Mark Tan’s building outlines subscribe to an outdated minimalism that obscures his progressive approach, while leafy prints by Agnes Lau Pik Yoke present dull images. Scratchy lines contribute to a disturbing charm in Fadhli Ariffin’s works, the dirty aesthetic and temporal nature of drypoint making it a suitable technique to illustrate corrupt power. 

Fadhli Ariffin - ‘Private Message' (2015)

Different from his signature mirror-image woodcuts, Sabihis Pandi’s linocuts are overly dense, notably distorting the two-tone picture ‘Jerat’. Other test prints/ trial proofs hang nearby, where I stand captivated with tuber-like representations by Faizal Suhif. Odd shapes and prickly hairs indicate deep looking at nature, which trump his constructed landscapes on sale. Cetak Kolektif’s other founding member Samsudin Wahab projects “Sumpah”, a tale of one cursed man-ape transformed into a frog, then meeting its demise via drowning. The corresponding six etchings show masterful drawings of bizarre characters, and lead one to ignore concerns about coherence in the artist’s metamorphosis narrative. “What's happened to me,' he thought. It was no dream.”

Samsudin Wahab - Bab III: Jelmaan (2015)

From Little Things, Big Things Grow @ Lostgens’

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An upside-down wind-up toy dinosaur sucks the head, off a dismembered torso covered with spectral bodies traversing into a fluorescent river. The fist-turned-snout lies upon a zipped-up chessboard, where a hand clutches the blue sky as ransom, and a rat looks ready to pounce. Nightmarish cartoon creatures are partially consumed by a giant white bunny, its steel bells ringing an imaginary cackle. Lollipops and one inflatable human doll float past; more sweets are found in the belly of a pink torso spouting out heads from its neck. Beside it is a swirling design that denotes the origin of this apocalyptic landscape. Various ghastly beings patrol the whole area, littered also with familiar and superbly-scaled objects from Super Mario Bros.  We are at the gates of hell. Except, there is no heaven.

Cycledelic (2010–2015)

One paragraph is insufficient to describe Tey Beng Tze’s six-year-in-the-making ‘Cycledelic’, as is the typical issue in naming all the symbols present in his works. Despite the multitude of things illustrated, Beng Tze’s creations are never cluttered. Taboo images and garish colours distract from his multi-planar compositions, which along with a nifty use of scale, project effective metaphors about being within more than one dimension. Psychedelia and surrealism are conventionally easy interpretations, but these works neither look like hallucinatory nonsense, nor make associations based on automatism. In the cosmic web of ‘Life Time’, a flooded river and burning forests hint at contemporary concerns, but decaying apples, an outward projecting clock, and stylised flowers and children, all point to a general meditation of life.

No More Fukushima (2014)

The exhibited works consist of various mediums. A constant reference to childlike innocence, l'origine du monde, social stratification, sounds, ghosts, and Japanese manga, present the artist’s areas of interest. In ‘Same Hole Shit’, deity-like characters and sinuous lines populate a forest, all the while unable to mask the obscene form outlined. The slime of purgatory is constructed bit by bit in ‘Kill the Poor’ – a pen drawing on 25 sheets of A4-sized paper – and its many dismembered limbs can be a repulsive sight. Abhorrence to a capitalist society is most prevalent in ‘Fucking More (Mall)’, its structural elements propping up or concealing lost souls. With its crowd of human bodies and a grand presentation, the three aforementioned pictures recall religious murals and painted fables. Where do you come from? Who do you see? What do you believe in?

Fucking More (Mall) (2014)

‘Fact’ displays hazy angst with muddled lines and vivid contrasting colours. In its visual simplicity, this 2010 painting is similar to the smaller exhibited works, which have been used as posters in concerts organised by Findars, the collective Beng Tze founded. ‘Drawing Sound’ presents a spontaneous collage of musical references, which broken records seem spliced by one masked deejay from the accompanying piece ‘Cut, Cut’. The latter illustrates a serene Japanese landscape interrupted by a giant robot, its round gleaming eyes, a shamisen三味線, and drawn tree branches, anchoring the four pictures that make up the work. Opposite, three touched-up antique posters amuse via referencing the menace of mosquitos and masculinity, although the fiery spectres in ‘No More Fukushima’ point to a more sinister episode.   

[l] Drawing Sound (2014); [r] Cut, Cut (2015)

At a time when popular Malaysian art consist of isolated figures with a misplaced sense of scale, or abstracts with overt gestural brushwork, Beng Tze’s creations are refreshing for its accumulated details. Feelings manifest in physical representations, and its correlations traced over time, as hinted by the exhibition title. Some drawings may be indecent at first sight, but there is minimal shock factor, because we all know that real life is more ridiculous. The result is a splendid visual display, even an uplifting one, without the need of wall statements to describe singular notions or specific moods. Putting pen to paper as a first step is a potent act, and what transpires later on can lead the viewer to a different space or state of mind. As artists grow with their art, it is a joy for me to adapt and grow with their art too.

Same Hole Shit (2014)

Pulse: 2H 2015 Art Auctions

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As an auction house diversifies to sell designer furniture and signed art prints, another gallery opens in Klang with its owner claiming that art investment “…offers yields ranging from 10% to 100%.” Five auctions were held across four months with close to 700 lots on the block, with GST now firmly included as a transactional cost. With Christie’s and Sotheby’s jostling for significant works from the emerging Southeast Asian market, local players have little to offer, although a great batik piece by Ismail Mat Hussein was spotted at a Petaling Jaya gallery. In that October fire sale, the first 38 lots had starting bids of RM 1,000, while a couple works by Yong Mun Sen and Chen Wen Hsi seem under-priced.

Ismail Mat Hussein – Dikir Barat (1995)

Masterpiece’s August edition sees all three available works by Jalaini Abu Hassan brought in, a bizarre occurrence that says little about the Malaysian secondary art market. Penang paintings see a dip in prices, while a couple artists (Long Thien Shih and Ng Hon Loong) with recent retrospective exhibitions see gains. The jury is still out if young artists will benefit or suffer from being placed in auctions early in their careers, as works by Khairil Izham and Anissa Abdullah appear on the block. Chong Siew Ying continues with her estimates-busting ways at Henry Butcher, whose nude figure sells at 70% higher than its high estimates. One wonders if the person depicted (whose name is quoted too) gave consent for this sensual work to be publicly exhibited, as I shift my gaze from an uncomfortable intrusion of privacy, to beautifully painted forests by Fung Yow Chork. 

Fung Yow Chork – Forest II (1999)

Art KL-itique 2015 Look Back

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In a year when I lost faith in painting, the number of art events doubled, as compared with my listings two years ago. Large paintings – especially figurative literal statements and beautiful gestural abstracts – continue to be snapped up quickly in the primary market, leading to a deep reflection about the act of collecting. Despite a stagnant secondary market, the art economy was constantly discussed in conferences and symposiums, while non-commercial art spaces soldier on without institutional funding. A single regret will be missing the three shows that Satu Kolektif (Elias Yamani Ismail) participated in this year. Otherwise, following in the tradition of my favourite non-authoritative end of year awards, my 2015 Kuala Lumpur visual art highlights include…

Chang Yoong Chia – Love at First Sight (Photo Edition) (2011)

Printmaking: The medium was aptly celebrated on Labour Day at “Peasants and Proletariats”, which organiser Xin Art Space started its first year promisingly as a passion project. Cetak Kolektif – spearheaded by Faizal Suhif and Samsudin Wahab – held two shows at HOM Art Trans, and accorded the under-appreciated medium deserved recognition.

Sculpture in Petaling Jaya: Buden’s ‘Orang Assam’ and ‘Orang Ikan Kering’ were among a number of memorable sculpted works exhibited at G13, along with the miniscule and heavily-textured creations by Tiong Chai Heing. At Kedai, Nazrul Hamzah’s quirky constructs that references Western art history, showed great creativity and had me pencilling in this artist as one to watch in coming years.

Installation snapshot of Samsudin Wahab – Orang Assam (2015) [picture taken from “FLUSH!” exhibition web page]


Charitable art projects: Kedai Sebelah hosted a showcase and fun events for rural children on behalf of Projek Senikami, whose StartSomeGood campaign unfortunately did not achieve its crowdfunding target. Sembilan helped raise funds and awareness for a neuromuscular disorder, by running a week-long post-it art auction at an ice cream parlour. Charity art auctions organized for high society be damned.

White Box, Publika: Fergana’s “Collectors Show” was an eye-opener to appreciate modern Malaysian artworks, while a tribute exhibition for poet Pyanhabib Rahman also inspired quality creations from a number of local artists. With its impeccable production values, “Art Next Door” showcased what is fashionable art in our neighbouring state.


Installation snapshot of art pieces being auctioned at Inside Scoop Damansara Jaya, in support of “The Scoop About Branden” project [picture taken from Yap Sook Yee’s Facebook post]

National Visual Arts Gallery: It is confounding how little people care about artworks acquired with public money, hence kudos to Balai for exhibiting its “Recent Acquisitions”. and including a substantial number of works from its collection into “The FrenchConneXion” (curatorship is a secondary concern). Other commendable initiatives are its backing of the progressive school project “Gerakan Seni”, and a lovely exhibition of the two most holy Islamic sites in “Haremeyn”.

8 Jalan Panggong: Quirky exhibitions at Aku Café (“Known x Unknown”) and FINDARS (“Into/Outside”) draw attention, but it is the shows at Lostgens’ that keep me coming back to this address. Captivating in various ways are the burnt blouses of Chong Yi Lin, Au Sow Yee’s complex moving images, and the delightful yet subversive illustrations by Tey Beng Tze.

Chia Yu Chian – Petition Writer (1977)

Minut Init Art Social: A shiny new gallery founded by a political treasurer grabbed the headlines, but it is this grungy art space that caught my attention this year, with its showcase of art that one will not see elsewhere. Veronika Neukirch’s silicon-plaster fruits and Sophia Kamal’s brilliant paintings intrigue, but it was the WeChat art (?!) in “Circle Jerks” that blew my mind.

Diana Lui: Her works appearing also at Wei-Ling Gallery and Black Box this year, Diana’s “Totem” had me pacing back and forth the terrazzo floors of Alliance Française KL for a full hour. Other significant solo exhibitions were caught in established galleries, i.e. Wei-Ling Contemporary (Chong Kim Chiew’s multiple personas), Taksu (Khairul Azmir Shoib’s melancholic paintings), and Richard Koh’s at Jalan Maarof (Gan Chin Lee’s social realist depiction of migrants).

Sophia Kamal – I Am A Dream Still Dreaming

"After more than 20 years, perhaps it is about time for these strategies to be reproached. Visual artists should start to re-question their roles and positioning within the larger context of ‘hope’ for positive change and transformation in this beloved country. Instead of merely blaming, labelling, pointing fingers, voicing concerns, sounding alarms, relaying warnings, lamenting on issues, focusing too much on problems, or even sometimes riding and capitalizing on them for personal fame and gain, visual artists should explore fresh new ways to pro-actively contribute to their immediate surrounding and society. The harsh realities of the lower mind should be taken as challenges that can elevate us collectively towards higher consciousness."
- Hasnul J Saidon, Report from the Head of Judges, Penang Art Open 2015, blog post dated 17th December 2015

Diana Lui - Totem #11 (2015)

Khayamiya: Khedival to Contemporary @ Islamic Arts Museum Malaysia

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Described as “the Egyptian art of tent-making”, Khayamiya (خيّامية) were used as doorways, canopies, or decorative walls. These beautiful textiles with geometric Islamic designs were first documented in photographs during the Khedival period (1867 – 1914), when Egypt was a state within the Ottoman Empire. It is a dying tradition within Egypt, where pieces from the early 20th century are now preserved in collections found in “…farms in Alaska, country estates in the UK, and weddings in rural Australia”. Exhibited works include ‘The Thatcher Panel’ and ‘The Rhode Island Panel’, which large sizes indicate that it may have adorned ceilings. Contemporary creations are smaller and more obviously decorative, although the reason behind its popularity decline is not clear.

Installation view of the Ceremonial Tent (c. 1900–1910)

Islamic designs typically employ cubic perspectives, where geometric and natural patterns overlay each plane with no clear beginning and end. Repeated patterns on the ‘Ceremonial Tent’ make for a magnificent sight, although the museum’s decision to display the tent inside-out is questionably effective. The exhibition curator proposes that the paper cut-outs of Henri Matisse– being an avid collector of Islamic textiles – were influenced by the hand appliqué technique of khayamiya. Regardless, the older exhibits present wonderfully composed combinations of form and colour, and one can only imagine that Matisse’s impulse was to strip these forms of its hierarchy and make it dance.

An exhibit in “Khayamiya: Khedival to Contemporary”

Art of ASEAN: Our Exhibition @ Sasana Kijang

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“…ASEAN’s fundamental and enduring purpose is to ensure a modicum of order and civility in a region where neither is to be taken for granted […] ASEAN works by consensus and can only work by consensus. This is because Southeast Asia is a very diverse region and ASEAN member states differ in levels of economic development; we differ in types of political systems; we differ in our core identities of race, language and religion; and hence we often differ in how each of us defines our national interests within the ASEAN framework even though we all have come to accept that framework as one of our most important shared interests.”
- Singapore diplomat Bilahari Kausikan, ‘A Cow is Not A Horse’, opening speech at the Youth Model ASEAN Conference, 5th Oct 2015

Sopheap Pich - Untitled (Red Square Wall Relief) (2015)

No cows or horses are referenced in the three sections of this group exhibition, titled “Bridging Past and Present”, “Between Us, Among Us”, and “Formation and Linkages” respectively. These ambiguous statements are synonymous and fitting descriptions, of the non-interference protocol observed by members in the Association of Southeast Asian Nations. Collaboration, people, and community, are further touted as keywords. Displayed beside the ASEAN emblem is Multhalib Musa’s‘Squeezing Tightly’, a wonderful bent sculpture that illustrates unity as recounted in Aesop’s Fable ‘The Bundle of Sticks’. Multhalib also collaborated with Hamir Soib for ‘Landlord vs Raja Tanah’, a giant depressed countenance constructed from jigsaw-shaped mild steel pieces. Why so serious?

[front] Hamir Soib (collaboration with Multhalib Musa) - Landlord vs Raja Tanah (2009); [back] Trinnapat Chaisittisak - Dynamic (2010)

A visual puzzle describes two works by Chang Yoong Chia – the first an oil painting featuring household objects embedded within its monochromatic landscape, the second an ambitious world map made from stamps recounting contemporary issues. Other works with literal statements are contributed by Indonesian artists – who are poorly represented here – which call into question how this exhibition is put together. Its acknowledgement list includes notable galleries and regional collectors, yet it is clear that the responsibility to gather artworks has been delegated to separate individuals. One can imagine such a conversation taking place – “…who’s got works by Filipino and Vietnamese artists? You do? Great! Whoever also can…”

Close-ups of works by Chang Yoong Chia - [top] Ten Things I Love About You (2009); [bottom] The World is Flat (2010)

Black paintings and a tall bicycle are contributed by Singaporean artists, a good indication of the type of art produced in the island state. Walking past and rolling my eyes at a royal quote, two Bruneian works surprise with its elegant forms. Zakaria Omar’s ‘Unbalances Series Tsunami’ paints a golden batik portrait on corrugated zinc, while the more senior Hj Mahaddi Hj Mat Zain utilises thick lines in a serene drawing about religious devotion. Cambodian Sopheap Pich presents a brownish-red grid made from natural materials, its raw texture sufficiently drawing one in to look closer. Commissioned for the Singapore Biennale 2013, Lao Marisa Darasavath’s large colourful painting loses potency in this gallery, where many depictions of toiling farmers have been exhibited.

Zakaria Omar - Unbalances Series Tsunami (2013)

It is telling that works by female artists are more visually captivating and nuanced in content, as compared to male peers. From Nadiah Bamadhaj’s striking paper creations, to the nostalgic photo-collages of Nge Lay, to a patterned wooden construct by Anniketyni Madian – personal intention and crafted output maintain a wonderful balance. Six photographs from Anida Yoeu Ali’s “The Buddhist Bug Project” are easily the highlight of this exhibition. Anida dons a saffron-coloured hijab with a long tail then interacts with people at public places. Wide-eyed onlookers are captured in outlandish pictures, yet the religious references remain potent especially in a classroom setting, or when the artist occupies one table at a university cafeteria by herself.

Anida Yoeu Ali - Campus Dining (2012)

In the gallery opposite, stunning line drawings by Thai artists Imhathai Suwatthanasilp and Jiratchaya Pripwai captivate endlessly, although I harboured hope to see the former’s renowned hair sculptures. Despite the wide diversity on show, minimal narratives are weaved, which aptly alludes to the large cultural and economic differences between ASEAN countries. As the exhibition introduction states, “(d)espite the physical proximity of these ASEAN countries, it is rare to find works from all 10 nations assembled in one place.” As such, Haslin Ismail’s painting of guts laid out on a large canvas proves to be the most subversive expression on display. We are polite to each other now, but in the past, we once battled each other to death.

Haslin Ismail - The Pattern of Chaos (2014)

“The influence and inspiration came after giving birth to my first child. We had this collapsible play tunnel that really intrigued me structurally. What it was able to do was expand into this tunnel in which my daughter could climb into and have loads of fun, and then it could easily collapse and be put away. That structure really appealed to me. As I looked at it for a long time, I started to sketch things in my notebook that ultimately became the Bug. That idea of creating a soft sculpture from an expansive fabric that could easily fold up and be carried on my back is a direct reference to the refugee experience and the fact that we left our countries and arrived at the camps with nothing but the clothes on our backs.”
- Anida Yoeu Ali, interview with Art Radar, published on 19th Mar 2013 [posted at artradarjournal.com]

Imhathai Suwatthanasilp - Leave Leaf No. 1 (2014); Reflected in the background is Hafiz Osman - The Penghulu (2015)

Travelling Into Imaginaria: A Visual Poetry @ Segaris AC

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The exhibition catalogue informs that Shahrul Hisham Ahmad Tarmizi commutes regularly between Shah Alam and Machang, where he teaches. A lifestyle of frequent travelling has potentially affect his works, as the current solo show displays a remarkably positive trajectory, when compared to the artist’s previous output. Moving objects to the foreground, to establish visual entry points. Moving from aspirational storytelling to illustrating contemporary observations. Moving from slanted perspectives to a horizontal and straightforward picture plane. Moving gestural metaphors to object-based associations. Moving beyond canvas to draw on fabricated plates. Even moving from a large size to a more intimate scale! 

One Thing After Another (2015)

Objects as metaphors are popular catch-all devices utilised in contemporary painting, especially in Southeast Asia where surrealism and pop are commonly referenced to the point of being cliché. Combine that with a poor sense of scale, and many pictures fail in its meaning-making allusions. Shahrul Hisham does well in presenting objects with the optimal scale and configuration. A whole chicken is left out in the hot sun, a broken egg beside it. (‘Ordinary Day’) A toy tractor approaches a water container leaking from holes shot into it. (‘For Sale’) Even in the busy picture ‘Family Matters’, a frog and a horse appear to be symbolic references to personal acquaintances, which one can excuse its forceful inclusion into the picture. 

The Family Gathering (2015)

Three distinct mediums are featured in this wonderfully coherent solo exhibition. Oil and watercolour paintings present individual metaphors, which freehand illustration qualities and melancholic washes, present itself as preparatory drawings as compared to the larger ball pen on canvas works. Bocor is a main theme, where leakages flow from hydrants and water containers, to fire extinguishers and sinking ships. Lightning bolts, broken furniture, and headless arrows feature in a number of canvases. We are all at sea; it is amazing how some objects can encapsulate Malaysian concerns from past years – a financial scandal and a leadership void, aviation crashes and flood disasters, TPPA and COP21 commitments, sale of power assets and water shortages… 

Hydration Re-act-ion (2015)

Shahrul Hisham’s skill in cross-hatching contributes significantly to the attractiveness in this series of line drawings. A cat’s soft fur in ‘Storm of Heroes’ and an eagle’s feathers in ‘The Great Landing’ are beautifully drawn, while rushing waters in the latter pair well with an abstracted and simplistic rendition of mountains and clouds. A white parasol occupies and anchors ‘Masked Matter’, where the variety of objects and terrain surfaces are clearly discernible. When combining pen with charcoal, the results are less appealing. The embedded figure and coiling snake in ‘Unravel’ are tiresome tropes; however, the singular vase perched upon a stool with a slipper lobster in ‘Monumental’, resembles a playful jibe at the style popularised by Ahmad Zakii Anwar.

Un-monumental (2015)

Material culture and a directionless ship come to mind while looking at ‘Un-monumental’, where rapids gush forth from a supermarket trolley affixed with sails, the landscape implying strong winds. A duck whose head is trapped in a table clamp is featured in ‘Ugly Ducking Turntable’, which scene of a washed up shoreline (after the flood?) below it, lends the sardonic picture a wistful tone. Parallel lines illustrate both perspective and time in the landscape work ‘One Thing After Another’, while the lonely journey is made manifest via the duck strapped to a slipper at sea in ‘Voyager II’. Daily observations are injected with a comical twist to create lyrical metaphors, and the relative monotone offers an introspective experience when appreciating the artist’s works.

Voyager II (2015)

Curiously left out from the exhibition catalogue, the third set of works consists of heavily-rusted metallic plates engraved with objects such as sea creatures, a chair, and an erupting volcano. Made from a mixture of sulphur, bitumen, and charcoal, these textured creations look like aged graffiti. Straightforward depictions of objects are imbued with metaphorical associations by the viewer. In more inventive pieces like ‘The Family Gathering’, floor patterns invoke nostalgia, while the wooden construct in ‘Moon Transmitter’ describes a yearning to communicate with celestial bodies. Malaysian artists typically use symbols for finger-pointing or meaning-making, but in Shahrul Hisham’s works, the symbols become charming signposts for our contemporary livelihood. And that is refreshing.

Moon Transmitter (2015)

Snippets: Art Stage Singapore, Jan 2016

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Half an hour in, and having browsed through a quarter of gallery booths, I was already visually tired. Regardless, galleries that presented a single artist offered more visual reward. My favourite art from last year is seen at Taipei’s Chini Gallery, while Made Wiguna Valasara’s stuffed canvas creations left a strong impression at Equator Art Projects’. Cairo’s Gallery Ward presented fascinating photographs, including digital snapshots of devotees stuck in a trance while performing the zikr, a Sufi dance. Santi Wangchuan’s majestic works at Yeo Workshop were a definite highlight – his collage of thread, rope, fishing equipment, and antique tools, weaving a unique aesthetic which aptly describes the artist’s personal background.

Santi Wangchuan - The Gift From My Grandmother No.3 (2011)

Malaysian galleries typically feature a mixed hang, with Liew Kwai Fei’s composition on Richard Koh’s large wall being particularly memorable. Coded as naiveté in contemporary art terms, this painting approach is well suited to describe the undesirable consequences of living in a politically corrupt environment. Chong Kim Chiew’s head-scratching ‘Badminton Court’ was part of the Southeast Asian Forum, which exhibits chiefly constitute visual collages from the developing world, or are interventionist in approach. These seemingly preferred modes by established Southeast Asian artists, speak volumes about our collective concerns. We are not Asia, we are at SEA. Onto the National Gallery then…

Installation snapshot of Liew Kwai Fei's presentation at Richard Koh Fine Art

After-image: Living with the Ghosts in my House @ Wei-Ling Gallery

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Pushing open the gallery door, one is greeted by a toy panda souvenir encased in a suspended acrylic cube. It hangs in the balance, affixed to one bottle of 1Malaysia mineral water placed on the floor, an accident waiting to happen. Flanking the visitor, blue light illuminates a blurred image of one voter’s cross and the ideogram 票 (vote/ ticket), creating a spooky suspicion that Malaysian political symbols have taken on a life of its own, then occupied this Brickfields shop lot. Sidestepping divider screens made from a single black & white photograph composing many sheets, I see limp plastic car banners rolled up in one corner, before getting overwhelmed by a line of lovely pillow covers hanging overhead like flags. 

Installation snapshot of entrance into After Image: Living with the Ghosts in my House at Wei-Ling Gallery: [foreground] A Chinese Vote (2015); [right] Vote and Vow (2015)

Utilising campaign paraphernalia collected from the last General Elections, Minstrel Kuik “…experimented with the idea of domestication – to feminise, to soften the once exuberant, masculine and heroic object. Flags were kept immobile by being folded and sewn, whereas the political iconography of the object is muted by the abstraction of form.” Appreciating the pleats in ‘Flirting with the Moon’, and the folded & puffy flags of ‘A Lonely Star’ (formerly ‘A Thorny Sky’), one can neither discount nor dismiss the original materials despite its alteration. The artist transforms 2-dimensional signs into 3-dimensional symbols, effectively reconciling political symbolism with her contemporary beliefs. Time dilutes the image, but we are reminded not to forget.

A Break 1 (2015)

Such apparitions manifest in an 11-metre long braid made from blue flags with plastic clappers fixed to its ends. Suspended in a manner that outlines the roof of an altar, ‘Ghost in the House’ functions as a barricade to hopeful memories, as it employs a motif – the braid – that Minstrel used in previous works as a symbol of the past. Tiny circular photographs show yellow-clad protestors and ‘A Worm Turns’, like peep holes in a derelict mansion. Lying behind another divider screen are folded-in flags placed on a built-in shelf. Fluorescent lights emit a seedy glow, as political allegiances and tinted biases are transmogrified into morally dubious physical states. The haunted feeling is further exacerbated, as a light box shows one motorcycle rider appearing twice in the same snapshot.

Installation snapshot of Ghost in the House (2016)

As if setting up for an exorcism rite, two pedestals are erected with folded clothes and a bucket of propaganda materials placed upon it. Captures of the artist making the exhibited works, are printed on one side of ‘Domesticated Politics’ hanging overhead, the banners acting as oversized talismans. Upstairs, ‘A Wreath for the Ghosted’ is put together from crushed paraphernalia, while two images of one girl sways in the air. Titled “Jangan Tipu”, charcoal drawings present photographic negatives of women staring out at the viewer with white hollowed eyes. Rotating stand fans and creaking floor boards contribute to one’s heightened awareness, which Minstrel again demonstrates her uncanny ability in utilising exhibition spaces. What is there to be afraid of?

Installation snapshots of Domesticated Politics (2016)

Having seen a number of the exhibits online (from the artist’s last solo exhibition at Run Amok Gallery), after-image offers a two-fold reflection. Here, things are seen in a different light, literally. Playing upon the mental associations of colour and form in our collective psyche, one’s current perspective towards local politics is interrogated. Recognising is mistaken for seeing. While abstraction is a visual strategy to invoke unconscious sentiment, re-presenting an existing photograph evokes a time-conscious and more difficult reaction. Personal experience informs and distorts its interpretation, and Minstrel’s grids that back these re-presented images forcefully states the illusion. Has the hope present at the last Bersih gathering dissipate?

Jangan Tipu 1 (2015)

The grid is a material background for “The Gridded Ghosts”, a row of ten photographs that capture cut-out collages on a paper mat. Propaganda is streamlined into templates, politicians are reduced to faceless bodies and gesturing motions, and stationary becomes part of the composed forms. These delightful images invoke direct responses – Who is this? What does the newspaper headline say? Which party? It is farcical to ponder such questions, yet Minstrel’s compositions are always attractive enough to warrant more than a glance. Looking at the green monotone in ‘Papa’, or the colourful pleated fans in ‘Mother’, it becomes evident that such visual cues are embedded into the Malaysian collective psyche. How do we progress, if political presentations cannot?

From "The Gridded Ghosts" (2016) - [l] Mother; [r] Papa

We cannot, because the ghost is still in the house. ‘Old Wave’, a large print of cockle shells laid over pictures of delegates’ gathering from a single-race political party, is lit red and hangs menacingly in one corner on the ground floor. Ultimately, our political situation is not an experiment about optical illusion… Loaded metaphors and compositional skill can easily be read into Minstrel’s creations, but it is the play on identity politics and time that define this exhibition. Found objects and a home setting clearly manifest in her works, the artist thereby relating herself as a common citizen, protesting against a hopeless situation the only way she can. I high-five one plastic hand before leaving the gallery, as the after-images of this exhibition begin swimming in my mind.

Old Wave (2015)

Extending Ideas @ Feeka

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One often hears that “contemporary art is open to interpretation”. Meaning-making in visual art tends to be overwhelmingly personal, and reading an artwork relies on knowledge about art history, socio-political environment, cultural tropes, etc. Typically overlooked are the emotional and thinking states of the viewer, when one visits an exhibition space. In the case of “Extending Ideas”– the Goethe-Institut sponsored follow-up to “Thinking Drawing” – I alighted the café’s staircase after learning about the Zika virus earlier that morning. Despite having seen a number of exhibits by Elias Yamani Ismail and Veronika Neukirch in shows last year, the former’s critical take on standards appear less potent, while fruits depicted by the latter (silicon-plaster, or otherwise) seem more forbidden than before.

Astrid Köppe - Baran Light Box I (2015)

Vacuum-packed wooden carvings by Eddie Choo Wen Yi recall a quarantined environment, or imported Chinese New Year delicacies. Incising hand traces onto sculptures of everyday objects, the artist’s intention to present warmth now more resemble a memento mori. ‘Baran Light Box I’ by Astrid Köppe projects a wonderful play with a Japanese material and its form, but her pink styrofoam clusters only remind of death-seeking viruses. Elias – who wrote a jejune essay about bricolage in art– presents the most visually attractive work made from scouring pads and PVC connectors. Alas, its title ‘Osedax’ refers to a deep sea bone-eating worm. No thanks to the timing of the visit, my interpretations for these artworks had other morbid ideas, beyond extended ones.

Elias Yamani Ismail - Osedax (2016)

(χ_+) Unknown Plus @ Minut Init Art Social

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“Unknown to us, we do have a sense to appreciate beautiful and morbid things”, states a wall text in Ajim Juxta’s exhibition of drawings, paintings, and poems. The prolific artist, active in Publika’s Art Row and often seen at Artisan Roast TTDI, is known for his grotesque yet attractive creations. Dystopic visions – of technological assimilation and development pace – are quoted as a source of inspiration, although the mesmerising quality of his works draw from a visual familiarity with organic forms. Scrawling perspective lines and dark shades threaten to overwhelm, but distinct shapes and ample white space around the subject matter nicely balance out these pictures. 

Installation snapshot

Contrasting with the dense and vivid paintings in his past works, the presentation here follows a typical portraiture and character design formats. The mannequin/ mask and the monument symbolise the artificial, but sinuous lines utilised to illustrate reveal such metaphors as a façade. Two “Penghuni Distopia” works titled ‘Obsesi/ Bntt’ and ‘Obsesi/ Ttk’ hang side by side, signifying the simple yearning for authenticity that manifest in all city folk. Blood, coffee, and saliva project a questionable novelty in its colouring effects, although one does admire Ajim’s personal conviction as portrayed through his works, and especially his poems. “In this monotonous world, we seek the unravelling of endless questions. Let this be a relic, a tribute, a testament to our journey.” 

Penghuni Distopia (2015): [l] Obsesi/ Bntt; [r] Obsesi/ Ttk

“A dead tree   I see   in this heat   I breathe;
standing waiting for a saw   thunder and lightning might hit   yet falling is uncertain;
the town is not quiet   it is robust and shifting   old and new   new and old;
I look up again   forming a style   rhythm works together   in discord or in unison;
yet I am silent in this confusion   viewing all that travels through life;
we are all lonely trees   we shall die standing straight   or falling to worship Earth”
- TREE_, wall text in “(χ_+) Unknown Plus”

Installation snapshot of Arkologi: Pohon Tak Berdaun (2015)

The Kings of Wishful Thinking @ Wei-Ling Contemporary

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Anurendra Jegadeva utilises enlarged prints of the Malaysian banknote as a background to draw his typical cast of characters – the schoolgirl, the devotee, the poet, etc. In a stunted economy with a depreciating currency, the Ringgit becomes an easy symbol and a lazy target. The king’s head is a straightforward focal point in these creations, although the re-drawn royal portrait with the Nasi Lemak lady offers a good look at an image most take for granted. Going through this series of works, the overbearing nationalist sentiment turns into tiresome commentaries. I got a stronger impression when being told that visiting this sold-out show is by appointment only, as J. Anu takes precautionary steps to mitigate a previous unfortunate experience.

[from l to r] Photograph of Malaya's first Agong Tuanku Abdul Rahman [picture from wikiwand.com]; Detail on a RM 10 bank note; Detail from Portrait of  the King with a Nasi Lemak Lady (2015)

Moving onto ‘Yesterday in a Padded Room – A Painted Installation’, which last exhibited at Art Basel Hong Kong, romanticised portraits describe the history of Southeast Asia via a passage from Sejarah Melayu. This ambitious attempt relies on the recognition of icons, not unlike the figurative depictions of heroic myths in temples. Irrelevant and obscure references dilute the presentation, and its emphasis on an East-West dichotomy is obsolete in contemporary discussions on culture. The padded walls recall a DIY music studio, and the LED candles on outlandish chairs resemble tacky and impractical thrones. One can only hope that the historical dissonance referenced within this work, stays muted as Southeast Asian countries wrestle with its combative past.  

Installation view of Yesterday in a Padded Room - A Painted Installation (2015) [picture from weiling-gallery.com]

Snippets: National Gallery Singapore, Jan 2016 (I)

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As part of its Renaissance City Plan, two municipal buildings are combined to form Singapore’s new National Gallery, which boasts an 8,000 strong collection of Southeast Asian art. Despite running up & down stairs that still smell new, and dashing across cavernous halls between galleries, I still missed a few rooms and was late for my next appointment. The concourse galleries offer an auspicious start to my visit, which showcase works made in the 1970s that steered away from traditional art mediums. “A Fact Has No Appearance” recognises the pioneering efforts of three artists in the region, respectively – Malaysian Redza Piyadasa (text-based art), Perth-based Tan Teng-Kee (performance art and found object sculptures), and Filipino Johnny Manahan (video art).

Redza Piyadasa – Malaysian Art Review (1978)

Only managing a cursory glance at exhibits by the latter two artists due to a time constraint, Teng-Kee’s creations strike a formal impression. My assumption was confirmed by a wall text that informs, “…(the artist) talks of the key elements of point, line, and plane as central to his work.” The same text’s proposal that ‘Vibrating Rods’ is an expression of kinetic art, however, is presumptuous at best. Coming around to Redza’s exhibited works, which only one I have seen in a Malaysian gallery, it is apparent that meta-criticism is the artist’s main preoccupation during the Mystical Reality years. In a description of the work that shares the title of this 3-man show, “…Piyadasa was attempting to investigate the philosophical difference between a fact and an appearance, and seeing how descriptive text could approximate and stand in for the object’s visual presence.”

Tan Teng-Kee – Vibrating Rods (1975)

Looking at a plank nailed onto a chair, one ‘Malaysian Art Review’, and a literal block of ‘Chained Art’, it is difficult to ignore the self-indulgent nature of such endeavours. More interesting are works with actual aesthetic values, such as ‘Entry Points’ – one stencil-captioned Chia Yu Chian painting – and two “To Be Completed” portraits. A slide show of images included in Redza’s 1977 MFA thesis, yield further insights into his ambition to be an artist-dialectician rather than an artist craftsman. Potentially evocative constructs number just a few among chairs and propositions. In a 2004 video interview/ rant, Redza associates his postmodern art (e.g. “Malaysians” series) as the (post-race) way forward in Malaysian art. Despite an over-emphasis on concepts, his willingness to engage with one’s national identity, strikes a familiar chord with the local contemporary scene.


Selection of slide images from Redza Piyadasa’s MFA thesis at University of Hawaii ‘Art as Art becomes Art as Art’ (July 1977)

Moving on to the “…land art interventions, earth installations and mineral pigment drawings” of Tang Da Wu’s “Earth Work 1979”, the ‘Gully Curtains’ captivate with its simple yet representative record of an eroding plot of land. Non-objective art continues to be celebrated as I chance upon an incised outline of a square, Cheo Chai-Hiang’s ‘5’ x 5’ (Inched Deep)’ proposal now physically inscribed into Singapore art canon. This second floor gallery stages “Siapa Nama Kamu?”, its title referencing words on a blackboard in Chua Mia Tee’s ‘National Language Class’. Despite browsing the show in a non-linear manner, it is impressive that a collection of artworks can tell a brief history of a country – from the realistic records of industrialisation taking place, to the abstract implications that manifest in modernist art.

Video introduction by Charmaine Toh to “Siapa Nama Kamu?” @ DBS Singapore Gallery [from CAPTURED Vimeo page]

With displays hung close to each other in a low-ceiling environment, the exhibition is cosy and intimate, an apt setting for an island state with an authoritative government. Chinese ink paintings line both sides of a (too) narrow corridor, while themed rooms pair wall hangings with freestanding sculptures. Cheong Soo Pieng’s seminal ‘Tropical Life’ hangs here, a picture loaned from Malaysia’s National Visual Arts Gallery which I have not seen. Memorable exhibits include paintings by Lai Foong Moi and Koeh Sia Yong; photographs by Wu Peng Seng and Yip Cheong Fun; sculptures by Teo Eng Seng and Han Sai Por; and woodcut prints by Tan Tee Chie and Choo Keng Kwang. Appreciating these items from the NGS Collection (and its donors) is an embarrassing affair, as I lament the lost opportunities with NVAG not showing its collection on a permanent basis.

 [from l to r] Yip Cheong Fun – Amidst the Nets (c. 1940s); Choo Keng Kwang – 13th May Incident (1954); Koeh Sia Yong – Cannot Grow Vegetables Anymore (1968)

Having content knowledge and presenting it are two different skills. “Between Declarations and Dreams” – the title taken from a line in Chairil Anwar’s poem Karawang Bekasi (“Berjagalah terus di garis batas pernyataan dan impian”)– “…follows the chronological development of Southeast Asian art from the 19th century to the post-1970s.” While re-writing histories is oft-repeated in curatorial briefs, a reliance on canonical texts remains necessary. This is the museum’s first show, after all. Looking at the many artworks stretching across decades is a mind-numbing affair, where regional contexts become secondary to visual triggers. As Mayo Martin sums up the experience nicely– “(a)t best, any attempt to frame in neat terms art production from a region this messy is provisional.” At least, one does not feel bad being judgmental in a former courthouse...

Lai Foong Moi – Home Coming (1964)

Snippets: National Gallery Singapore, Jan 2016 (II)

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…Painting European conventions into local subject matter, evolves into incorporating local styles. Walter Spies’ ‘Balinese Legend’ looks like a crossover of Henri Rousseau with a Chinese ink landscape. ‘Pasar’ by Hendra Gunawan projects a wonderful abstract style for its time, in painting a typical market scene. A Japanese soldier in Fernando Cueto Amorsolo’s ‘Marketplace during the Occupation’, recalls a tumultuous time despite its straightforward depiction. Vietnamese lacquer on board – with its golden splendour – demand its own compositional elements. S. Sudjojono’s large painting is a sight to behold, and befitting of its masterpiece status. Representative works by Malaysian and Singaporean artists from the 1960s are typically abstractions. Do Indonesian and Filipino art feature more politically-charged content, as compared to the rest of Southeast Asia?

Hendra Gunawan – Pasar (c. 1940s)

Batik patterns by Jaafar Latiff and Yusman Aman captivate, although it is the first time I come across the latter Malaysian. Loaned from Universiti Sains Malaysia’s collection, Patrick Ng Kah Onn’s ‘Membasoh Kain di Tepi Sungai’ displays a wonderfully-stylised painting, its slender figures looking more like performing a ritual than going about their daily chores. Climbing up a flight of stairs, David Medalla’s bubbly ‘Cloud Canyons No. 24’ greets visitors into a gallery that documents the conceptual and experimental approaches by regional artists. Works by Jim Supangkat and Raymundo Albano are exhibited; ‘Ken Dedes’ by the former invokes a moral judgement by simply juxtaposing a classical sculpture with a casual drawing, while the latter’s photographic collage captivates with its evocative approach to drawing physical space.

Patrick Ng Kah Onn – Membasoh Kain di Tepi Sungai (c. 1960s)

A relatively high number of works by Sulaiman Esa are shown, including three new creations that reflect upon the infamous joint exhibition with Redza Piyadasa, Towards a Mystical Reality. Re-created and re-staged artworks are not uncommon within the many NGS galleries, either commemorating specific events or an art object. In this case, the problem lies in its procuring feedback from the same artist, instead of merely deferring its reconstruction. Sulaiman’s contemporary response towards a historical moment engenders irrelevance, for one exhibition clearly outlined within the parameters of canonical art. Black hearts and an al-Fātiḥah message embedded within the artist’s profile are unnecessary, as 1977 etchings hung nearby already display a clear move away from the edifying moments of a Mystical Reality. “What models are we talking about?”, asks an adjacent painting by Redza.

Raymundo Albano – A Grid Describing A Room By Defining Its Parts (1978)

Perhaps identifying with a time more familiar to mine, the exhibits on the highest floor of the UOB gallery beguile as a collective whole. Community and personal predicaments are clearly described in visually attractive ways – rock juts out from Santiago Bose’s canvas and threatens to flatten the indigenous people below it, Chatchai Puipia’s self-portrait on leathery animal skin is unsettling yet beautiful, paper mats and sawali sheets decorate a painting of women by Imelda Cajipe Endaya, and Heri Dono projects a contemporary version of wayang kulit. Artworks created in the 1990s focus more on the cultural resonance of objects. Examples include Norberto Roldan’s assemblages with traditional cloth, Montien Boonma’s stack of ceramic bowls (and Tang Da Wu’s delightful homage), and a glass cabinet by Navin Rawanchaikul containing bottles filled with old photographic portraits.

[l] Installation snapshot of Montien Boonma – The Pleasure of Being, Crying, Dying and Eating (1993, reconstructed 2015); [r] Tang Da Wu – Montien and SAM (2010)

Malaysian artworks shine here too – Zulkifli Dahalan’s ‘Ruang Dapur’ deconstructs social space by literally undressing its occupants, sensual images reveal itself within Lee Kian Seng’s blue & red dye work, Nirmala Dutt Shanmughalingam casts a scathing light on Reagan & Thatcher via newsprint, abstract decorative motifs are flattened and spray-painted onto Ismail Zain’s canvas, Zulkifli Yusoff’s critique on Malay deference manifests in a monochromatic installation, and the popular image of one independence declaration is juxtaposed by Ahmad Fuad Osman with human bodies in distressed poses. Tracing linear trajectories about Southeast Asian art history is impossible given its diverse cultural and socio-political histories; and frankly unnecessary in this globalised world. 


Nirmala Dutt Shanmughalingam – Friends in Need (1986)

At a time when paintings become synonymous with culture and a national identity, I am resigned to the fact that Singapore can amass this cultural capital, while Malaysia cannot. The two permanent exhibitions run for five years, which will serve as an invaluable resource for Singaporeans, and art enthusiasts within the region. Enthusiastic guides and ample wall texts (although some are badly written) lead the uninitiated, as I look upon children running about Ise’s rooftop mural/ installation. The museum even has a mobile application to aid browsing. While dissenters may claim this project to be a white elephant, and the local government still struggling with censorship and funding, this is Singapore’s declaration that it can be a cultural centre, as I continue to dream on, in Kuala Lumpur…

Roslisham Ismail @ Ise – Sira Pisang (2015)

Young Malaysian Artists: New Object(ion) III @ Galeri Petronas

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In this edition of Galeri Petronas’ bi-annual platform for emerging artists, the found object as art medium is associated with the experimental nature of youthful art-making, an unsophisticated assumption in this day and age. Featuring a line-up of local art school graduates, a number of exhibits fail to attract due to the individualised notions that artists assign to their medium. Meaning-making is sacrificed for immediate visual impact – one young lady is portrayed with thread and acrylic on a large canvas, a Malaysian map is constructed using sandalwood blocks, colourful cable ties make up a pair of large ears, black cloth is laid over a chair, presidents are depicted using corrugated cardboard or chicken wire, a reptilian form is arranged from parquet swatches…  

[foreground] Installation snapshot of Fatin Shamira Nor Azmi - Overreact (2015) 

More engaging are visual triggers that lead to current issues, such as Yau Sir Meng’s oft-exhibited education system commentary ‘Melting’, and mesh wire sculptures by Fatin Shamira Nor Azmi. The latter’s diaphanous creations evoke dreamy thoughts of food cravings, and via its title – ‘Overreact’ – remind of emotional dissatisfaction associated with impulse eating. Addiction manifests in a milder form in Huan Jia Jin’s ‘Really?’ that juxtaposes a performance of covering one’s mouth with stickers, with a video of the artist staring down at her smartphone. Illuminated screen flashes describe one’s deference to technology, although the red stickers hint at an artist’s concern, i.e. selling artwork.

Video snapshots of Tiffany Huan Jia Jin - Really? (2015)

Another one concerned with being an artist, Nazrul Hamzah empties his wallet then photographs its contents, the overall installation recalling Sulaiman Esa’s ‘Man and His World’ exhibited 44 years earlier. Equally self-indulgent is Khairul Ehsani Sapari’s desktop computer with post-it notes stating deadlines, the indifferent presentation guilty of falling into the “is this art?” category. Conversely, 3 clocks – two altered and one smashed – by Kamal Sazali hang nearby, which depict time and place in a wickedly absurd manner. Alicecia Tan’s gender-ambiguous portrait and Shahrul Jamili’s sejadah made from nails provoke with intention, and stand out as good examples of utilising an effective artful approach towards questioning indisputable truths.

Kamal Sazali - Dekat Tapi Jauh, Jauh Tapi Dekat (2016)

Two wooden constructs project contrasting ideas – Raymond Anak Utan’s long house on stilts refer to environmental sustainability concerns, while Anniketyni Madian large clear-cut logos are nihilistic in its use of a natural resource to comment upon capitalist consumption. Surprisingly, it is the simple and straightforward images that leave a lasting impression, such as Raja Mohamed Nizam’s watercolour line drawings and four paintings of slippers by Siti Noor Aishah Maulana. Harun Fadzilah Tajudin’s ‘Selamba’ captures a fascinating photograph of one man standing on the pavement outside Sungai Wang Plaza. A sewer cover on the bottom right anchors the picture, which perfectly describes many predicaments of urban living – peddling, stopping, thinking to go where next, etc.

Wooden sculptures by Anniketyni Madian (2016)

Outside, catalogues from past years are sold at a steep discount, indicating the financial struggle currently faced by its sponsoring entity. With nearby Ilham Gallery raising the bar for public programming, Galeri Petronas needs to rejuvenate its fading reputation among local art circles. Putting together a group exhibition for young artists, with vague entry criteria and no curatorial direction, is a cop-out (also, the police should vacate the gallery). Perhaps, mentors can be introduced for each YMA participant, or regular curatorial walk-through sessions be held. Its prime location attracts a public audience more than any gallery in Malaysia, and the institution needs to maximise this opportunity to keep itself relevant. Better late than never.

Harun Fadzilah Mohd Tajudin – Selamba (2016)

Mapping, Khabar dan Angin @ NVAG

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Balai’s ground floor galleries get refreshed with two new exhibitions – a selection of its modern art collection hangs at Galeri 1A, while Projek Dialog presents a show subtitled Excurses on Faith in Kelantan at Galeri Reka. In the former space, “Mapping” aims “…to examine the development of Malaysian art…” and is split into two parts that will continue into 2017. Typical of Balai-organised shows, its curator/ial team is not stated anywhere, as questions about re-visiting the Malaysian art canon remain unresolved. Segregated by art groups (e.g. Penang Art Group, Nanyang artists, Equator Art Society, etc.) where two works by one artist represent each group, the chronological hang echoes the approach of National Gallery Singapore’s “Siapa Nama Kamu?”, albeit in a smaller scale. 

Khoo Sui Hoe – Mandi di Sungai (1965)

Such mnemonic triggers, however, immediately highlight the exhibition’s inadequacies. Although the gallery opened its doors in February, some exhibits will not be ready until April, including works representing the significant Wednesday Art Group and Angkatan Pelukis SeMalaysia. The lack of visitors also invoke a sense of melancholy, as I recall the enthusiastic crowds during my brief visit to NGS. Nevertheless, it remains a delight to appreciate works from Balai’s permanent collection, where early output by the likes of Lee Cheng Yong and Lee Joo For are displayed. Pastoral life is the overwhelming theme, which makes Georgette Chen’s exquisite still-lifes an astounding exception by comparison. Archival documents are laid out and provide interesting contexts, about how local art is written about decades ago.

Comic illustrations by Abdullah Ariff

At “Khabar dan Angin”, eight artists record their observations, after visiting religious sites and witnessing cultural performances in Kelantan. The artist’s approach and statement-making take precedence over its visual presentation in the majority of exhibited works, thus resulting in a vague depiction of the Northern state or its local peculiarities. After shining UV light onto the partitions of a dark room, then pressing one’s ears against the wall to hear background noise, even KG Krishnan’s straightforward photographs become illusory objects. A miniature re-construction of a construction site, and the accompanying comic by Alex Lee, draw one back to the people of this place. Sticking post-it notes on illustrations of the back of head portraits, Engku Iman too employs ironic humour in her casually incisive manner.

Installation snapshot of Khatijah Rahmat (2016) – Ingat-Ingat Lupa; Biar Mati Melayu

Khatijah Rahmat’s multi-layered paintings behind a black veil draw (up)on the traditional healing ritual of Main Puteri. Performative poses are covered with imagined gestures and thoughts, where self-assigned guilt (the original sin in monotheistic faiths) remains unresolved in the double act of being Malay and Muslim. Poodien’s installation recalls a similar theme, where landscape fades into nothingness and singular subjects of meditation. The artist’s mother rendered in monochrome looms large over this transition, which implies this fading out as an enlightened choice. In times when religious headwinds fog our understanding of cultural diversity, this exhibition pairs well with “Mapping” in the opposite gallery. Academic history is juxtaposed with contemporary interpretation, its collective breadth offering reflections, about art exhibiting approaches to the committed visitor.

Installation snapshot of Poodien – Dari Ketiadaan Sampai ke Sini (2016) [from l to r: Ada; Wan; Tiada]

Siapa dia Tong Sam Pah? 我的名字哈苏丹。 You Look F**king Funny-lah! @ Richard Koh Fine Art

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Looking at the tri-lingual exhibition title stuck on the shop window, one cannot accuse Liew Kwai Fei as a contemporary Malaysian artist who fails to engage his audience. There is something for everyone – written word for those illiterate to visual art, grotesque body parts for those susceptible to beauty, socio-political commentary for Facebook activists, odd-shaped canvases and frames for the art traditionalist, Velcro-d flaps for those with itchy fingers, wonderful colour contrasts for painters, clever use of positive/ negative space for illustrators, oedipal references for those philosophically inclined, art world jibes for the local art enthusiast, and even a bouncing artwork to distract passer-bys! On a console table, children can entertain themselves with Lego blocks. 

Installation snapshot of Jangan Ketawa (2015)

On the surface of things, the artist provides many signs aiming to subvert. Two colourful paintings hanging outside are titled ‘Shopping Class’ and ‘Working Class’. Like a genie let out from its bottle, one snake emerges from a songkok in ‘Seni X Batang’. Opposite it, ‘amen’ and a toothy grin are inscribed onto a (upside down?) body, then affixed with a dog collar. The canine is drawn across two canvases that read ‘an jing ba bi’ from right to left, the wordplay appropriating a twofold Chinese interpretation. Another topic that went viral on social media is referenced in a painting nearby, which depicts a rainbow linking street cracks patched with duct tape. Even with trees present, there is no masking the obscured facts and absent silhouettes illustrated in ‘1Malasia’, and ‘Ruang Antara Langit dan Bumi’.

Installation snapshot of -ism (2015)

“Liew Kwai Fei’s merciless aesthetico-political project is an outright middle-finger to the political correctness of neoliberal multiculturalism in Malaysia. Implicit in the multiculturalist promotion of “tolerance” is a racist discourse of suppression. Often, the state assumes a moral high ground to delicately threaten the transgressive elements via a metanarrative of de-legitimation. One’s radical statement is rendered illegitimate not by its content but by its form. Political correctness is essentially the neoliberal form of the politics of fear, a fear mongering coated with a facile sense of civic tolerance.”
- The Imagination That Never Was, Tan Zi Hao, essay in exhibition catalogue for “Siapa dia Tong Sam Pah? 我的名字哈苏丹。 You Look F**king Funny-lah!”, 2016

Installation snapshot of A for... (2014) [picture from Chai Chang Hwang's Facebook page]

When the emotional reactions to contemporary events subside, more light-hearted aspects in the exhibition emerge. In ‘A for…”, a burning cookie-cutter gingerbread man runs towards a lake, filled with floating words that have abstract meanings and start with the letter ‘A’. White paint denoting the art gallery, is painted over a dirty tiled wall with the words ‘ART’ and ‘AIR’ sprayed upon it. ‘Golah!’ displays a similar aesthetic; Wordplay is further emphasised in works like ‘Very Good!’ and ‘Takkan Seni Halus Hilang di Dunia’. The latter dwells upon a generalisation that Chinese people cannot pronounce the letter ‘R’, and the underlying yellow base, painted-over blue words, gap in frame border, and additional canvas flaps, conform to a template utilised in other exhibits.

Takkan Seni Halus Hilang di Dunia (2015)

It is convenient to describe Kwai Fei’s painting style as naiveté based on these characteristics, but the deliberate flourishes cannot conceal the artist’s astounding sensitivity to colour and form. Positive and negative spaces are equally balanced, and when required, outlines are clearly drawn to delineate. Another reality opens up within the customised picture frames. Gestural brush strokes and meaning-loaded colours reveal Kwai Fei’s true disposition that culminates in his ‘Xiao-Portrait’. With its raw exposed physiognomy forced into a Chinese ideogram (that means laughter), and the similar-sounding English word ‘SALE’ attached at the bottom, the artist surrenders his autonomy to the art-buying public. Who will have the last laugh? Not the artist, surely.

Installation snapshot of Xiao-Portrait (2015)

One surprisingly satisfying revelation comes from multiple presentations of the phallus, which signifies the overwhelmingly male perspective present in Malaysian socio-political discourse. From the pink diagonal stretching across the abstract nightscape in ‘Hamsap Odessy’, to the heavy elephant trunk in the dryly hilarious ‘Jangan Ketawa’, the phallic form dominates and obscures in an unsightly manner. Emasculation takes place in the gory picture ‘Lady’s F’, although the ironic bendi substitute reminds of the fantastical legend where the Monkey God was imprisoned within the Buddha’s palm. More unapologetic are masturbating figures (doubling as the Twin Towers) in ‘-ism’, where race rhetoric and its backing political ideology are set upon flimsy pedestals. 

Lady's F (2015)

Kwai Fei asks in his exhibition statement, “(h)ave you noticed a shadow called ideology dragging the society…(?)” These exhibits can easily be perceived as racist, but look deeper and a follow-on question arises – what is the problem for one to draw Malay words or motifs, if one is a Malaysian? Such contradictions in personal identity manifests in the words ‘PURE RACE’, hidden behind grey spectacles in ‘Somewhere Over the Rainbow’. Its muted palette, along with the inherent dichotomy in his painting approach, reflect the artist’s tenacious pursuit to draw a non-existent balance for social equality in Malaysia. The vernacular is trivialised to the point of being farcical, yet the deliberateness on show is agonising to see. As neutral/ polarised as our Facebook news feed is.

Installation snapshots of Somewhere Over the Rainbow (2015) [picture from Yeo Kien Kiong's Facebook page]

Buang Bayi @ KerbauWorks

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Shika/ Shieko Reto’s art output follows a simple approach. Draw the under-represented – a transwoman’s experience of living in Malaysia, in this case – to counter prejudice. In this cosy space, Shika’s output covers the walls from floor to ceiling, and various paraphernalia accumulated over the past years are put on sale. Her illustrations draw one into a world of constant anxiety, yet the motifs carry a positive, even joyful, connotation. There is the mak ‘yam feeding her anak ikan, pills & syringes, the stool, the police & the more sinister moral police, the backs of waiting prostitutes, flying objects such as jet packs & butterflies, the unicorn, the spliced open figures of a coming-out transgender person, and the ubiquitous (and personal favourite) ‘TEBABO!’

Installation snapshot

At a time when identity is a favourite subject matter among artists, Shieko’s works posit a fundamental challenge to a less common identity crisis – the one about gender. Age-old beliefs about the fe/male binary were documented and passed down as facts; this majority narrative has remain and been enforced ever since. Although the illustrations are straightforward, the charming stories in her zines are eye-opening to the commoner not familiar with the local transgender community. Looking at a mirror covered with the words ‘TAKE THIS SOCIETY’ in black duct tape, it is evident that this gesture cannot be an artist’s act of reclamation, because I already know who lost in this power struggle. The self-reflection engenders self-prejudice. TEBABO!

Installation snapshot

Love Me in My Batik @ ILHAM

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Batik is a technique. European artists were inspired by batik from Dutch colonies. Entrepreneurial Chinese immigrant fails at manufacturing batik in Malaya, but invents batik painting. Librarian becomes influential patron. Batik painting is recognised as a fine art. Batik is proclaimed as cultural heritage, and becomes the national dress. Batik painting as art medium loses relevance. And so the story goes. Joseph Tan’s iconic work, the namesake of this exhibition, portrays a mannequin-like figure undressing herself from batik cloth. The brown body is exposed, along with her inner thigh in a lighter shade. She holds up a newspaper snippet which leads to the words ‘BAT IK’ painted into the top right corner, although her back is arched upwards in a forceful pose. I stand by and appreciate its flat colours.

Joseph Tan - Love Me in My Batik (1968)

The wicked irony in Joseph’s work is lost on the present-day viewer, although catalogue essays by Simon Soon and Farish Noor describe well the cultural patrimony, which besets batik’s status as a cultural product in this region. Historical commentaries detract from the main theme – batik painting – which pioneer Chuah Thean Teng and his heirs feature prominently in one end of the gallery. While loans from three public art institutions are a commendable practice, the quality on show is uneven, due to an inclusive intent to exhibit innovative techniques by other artists. Teng’s works hung here do not highlight his great composition skills; the crackling effect in batik paintings function only as aesthetic flourish, as I am constantly reminded of Redza Piyadasa’s comment that “(batik painting) follows the conventions of easel painting”.

1960s - 1980s batik blocks commemorating [clockwise from top left]: The Rubber Industry; The Moon Landing; Parliament House; Malaysian Airlines System; Thomas Cup

At the other end of the gallery, batik cop designs delight with its kitsch motifs which include the moon landing, a badminton competition, and the Malaysia Airlines logo. Abstracts by Khalil Ibrahim and Ismail Mustam display a conscious attempt at manipulating the medium’s characteristics – batik as worn fabric – although none can compare with the sensitivity projected in Patrick Ng Kah Onn’s three nude portraits. As Simon writes in the brilliant essay Fabric and the Fabrication of a Queer Narrative, “(h)ere the signifier of batik as cloth, as covering, is subverted by bringing the nude body and the batik cloth together, and in exposing the tension between the nude and the clothed, Patrick Ng had also collapsed these two registers of the body. Such a collapse suggests an expression of anxiety.”

Patrick Ng Kah Onn (1962) [from l to r]: Perpisahan (A Separation); Youth Embarbed; Pohon (A Tree)

Lee Kian Seng’s “Yin-Yang Series – Soul and Form” shows nude bodies and Japanese images, which coalesce into a wonderfully erotic series of four pictures. A different form of agitation manifests in three works from Yee I-Lann’s “Orang Besar” series, which print juxtapositions of plants with humans in absurd postures. One is tempted to try on these kain panjang and complete the subversive gesture, although probably an inappropriate attire for formal functions… Her waxed-off words cover a black cloth hanging downstairs, the brainstorm record fitting in among other creative approaches employed by Indonesian artists. Bambang ‘Toko’ Witjaksono exploits the flatness of batik painting to create a whimsical four-panel comic strip, while Eko Nugroho’s series of grotesque headwear depict Javanese politicians as an ugly lot.

Yee I-Lann - The Orang Besar Series - Kain Panjang with Parasitic Kepala (2010)

Looking at Fatimah Chik’s superb “Nusantara” batik cop creation, it appears that this exhibition has gotten lost within its own curatorial narratives. On one hand, its title – represented by Joseph Tan’s seminal work – refers to the cultural patrimony attached to batik cloth. On the other, it aims to trace the evolution of batik as a (once-popular) Malaysian fine art form, beginning with Teng’s batik paintings. A chronological progression ties these two disparate strands together, implying that batik works were popular for four decades because modern art collectors felt an affinity to batik as national dress, which seems implausible. The exhibition satisfies sufficiently as an educational walkthrough, although videos about the batik painting process are lacking. Leaving the show, I am further convinced why batik works seldom appeal to me...

Fatimah Chik - Rentak Nusantara (1981)

“Firstly, batik painting has been, right from the start, an artistic expression that tries to blend divergent aesthetic traditions and expressions. Cultural patrimony is an idea that is already foreign to the particular character of batik painting. Secondly, the first practitioner of batik painting is Chuah Thean Teng, an émigré Chinese artist. The medium of batik painting has never been able to claim it has origins with any particular culture or ethnicity. Thirdly, even if we were to assume for a moment that there are certain discernible cultural precedents to Malayan batik painting, i.e. batik, where would they lie? The roots of batik in Malaya have traditionally been traced to Kelantan and Terengganu, but batik was introduced to Malaya only as late as the 1920’s from Indonesia. Is Indonesia or Malaya to be considered the cultural birthplace of batik?”
- A Decade of Ascendency, Wang Zineng, exhibition catalogue for “Love Me in My Batik”, excerpt from the unpublished thesis ‘Knowledge, Patronage and Malayan Iconography: Three Aspects in the Emergence of Malayan Batik Painting’, 2007

Chuah Thean Teng - Perairan Pulau Pinang (1952)
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