What is the value Singapore society places on art and artists?

How To Explain Values To A Dead Goose, Koh Nguang How, 1994, mixed media

Koh Nguang How created this artwork in 1994 (showcased again in the 2008 Singapore Art Museum retrospective The Artists Village: 20 Years On) as a summation of his experience in The Artists Village and the way he felt art and artists were perceived by Singapore society. Almost two decades on, I think this piece of local art, in particular, is more salient than ever.

The metaphor could be severalfold; if you bear with me, I could try my (off)hand at just two, peppered at different points.

1)    That artists are seen as a socio-cultural machine from which the golden eggs of art can be endlessly obtained; but in the pragmatic, key performance indicator driven nature of Singapore society, this golden egg in question might be seen more as a socio-cultural product, marketable, exportable, and profile-raising, rather than as socio-culture in and of itself.

This artwork is a good example of the critical lens Singaporean art of the late 80s through to the 90s seemed to reflect; a lens that was questioning and unafraid to be radical and did not shy away from provocation when this provocation had the opportunity of turning dialogic.

The Artists Village was key in fostering this hotbed of critical, socially important art. Singapore’s first (and perhaps a benchmark in purity and independence in this respect) artist colony was a 1.6 hectare kampung space in Sembawang, featuring tropical fruit trees and farm animals. Founded by contemporary artist Tang Da Wu shortly upon his decade-long art further-education in the United Kingdom, he invited like-minded artists and friends to stay in and use the rustic space with complete artistic freedom, and it was in this time period and setting that socially salient Singaporean art emerged with a conscience.

Not only did Tang provide the physical space for this flourishing of boundary-pushing art, he also served as a mentor to younger artists; opening the minds of those who had not had the opportunity to travel out of Singapore, informing them on artistic developments around the world. They pursued the avant-garde, and as a whole,

The Artists Village was interested in pushing experimental, not commercial, art.

Tang Da Wu performing at the open studio show, 1989

1990: The Artists Village was thriving. Avant-garde performances and art exhibitions abounded in the sylvan enclave, with 7 artshows between 1989-1990, such as the exciting, envelope-pushing The Time Show, a multimedia 24hour artshow that melded artists working in all disciplines under one umbrella.

One would think that Singapore’s future, in terms of the arts and culture, was pretty secure, if not bright. Clearly it was in the midst of a strong sense of development and already had results to show for it, and the physical space was an important incubator.

And then, a seismic fault occurred, the earth split open, and swallowed The Artist Village whole.

The natural causes above would be more ideal, since Mother Nature is blameless in the destruction she wields; the truth is, the land The Artist Village sat on was repossessed by the Singapore Government for urban development, and that was basically the end of that.

(The Artists Village, as a collective, still exists in name till this day, but appears to be much less prolific ever since the loss of its home, with its last publicized collective new project seeming to be in 2003 (not counting the 20 years on exhibit, as that is a retrospective.)

Cue second metaphor interpretation:

2)    That the powers-that-be may not have been far-sighted enough in their treatment of intangible progress/arts & culture vis-à-vis tangible progress/economic pragmatism—visible, physical urban development seems to have been prioritized, hence the repossession despite impassioned protests.

Now, sure, on the one hand, we have HDB flats in Sembawang, but on the other, we have international press praising our efficiency but taking potshots at our cultural sterility. Did we really give up a burgeoning experimental art scene and maroon worthy artists for vertical concrete blocks. Would it have made a difference, if that forested artist colony were left unscathed.

Members of The Artists Village, 1992

This tension between the tangible and intangible is not limited to this action long past, but can also be applied to tangential contemporary issues in the local arts: for example, the exhibition-driven nature of arts grants in Singapore seems to indicate a strong bent on output showcase, rather than process—once again, the haste in obtaining the tangible golden eggs, and less respect for the process that creates it—when process and experimentation is what makes a better artist.

The myth of the golden goose is one we—as citizens, as audiences of local art, should consider when thinking about local art and artists, and one that governing bodies and statutory boards—as the arm that supports the arts scene, reviews legislation and moulds the perimeters of the playing field, should revisit when implementing policies that affect art and artists, before the golden eggs are prized beyond the goose which births them, before the goose is inadvertently slaughtered before its time.

Finally, let us hope to break away from this metaphor in time to come. There will be no golden eggs, no eager farmers, no sharp knives, no dead geese.

There will be (excellent) art. There will be (appreciated) artists. There will be (strong, definitive) culture, and it will be valued, and we can imbibe it together, and it shall be the true opiate of the masses.