Crossing lines at The Substation

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Crossing lines at The Substation

Arts centre explores the Cross Island Line issue in its first exhibition under new artistic director Alan Oei

by Huang Lijie

PUBLISHED

MAY 10, 2016, 5:00 AM SGT

The Substation's first exhibition under its artistic director Alan Oei responds to a hot-button issue.

Each Blade Of Grass Each Shrub Each Tree, which runs till Sunday, takes off from public debate about the Cross Island Line and whether it should cut through Singapore's largest nature reserve at MacRitchie.

The show features nine artists and academics, including artists Susie Wong and Robert Zhao and Associate Professor Timothy Barnard of the National University of Singapore, who specialises in the environmental and cultural history of islands in South-east Asia. The works on display include photographs, drawings and installations.

The show's focus on nature and the urban environment is a departure from the arts centre's year-long programming theme which, until recently, was on memories, history and nostalgia. It was changed to an exploration of the centre's role and relationship to the arts community following public furore from some in the community about Mr Oei's plans for the centre (see other story).

The timing of this topical show "needed to be now", says the 39-year-old.

"If the timing is right, the way you come to an exhibition can feel so much more profound and loaded because of a real issue elsewhere."

He adds: "We do not take on just things that are highly programmed and planned beforehand, but also look at what is topical and necessary, especially when artists have been engaging with these sorts of themes about nature."

Artist Geraldine Kang, for example, has been photographing fences around construction sites in Singapore. Her work emphasises how these structures may be seen as banal, commonplace objects here, where building continually happens, but they are also, in their own right, things of beauty and veils that render the landscape mysterious to passers-by.

Her work, By Unit Of Measurement III (2016), is made up of about 200 photographs of construction fences snaking around the walls of The Substation's gallery, forming a border within the enclosed space.

Artist Chu Hao Pei, on the other hand, has been exploring the loss, as well as possible loss, of Singapore's nature and cultural heritage through his works, which range across various mediums.

His immersive installation, Developing MacRitchie (2015), directly references the Cross Island Line issue and challenges the notion that development must take the form of new constructions.

Mr Oei says that while the idea for this show was sparked by a specific topic, the exhibition and the works in it seek to expand on that premise and invite viewers to consider people's relationship with nature and the city.

"We're not trying to galvanise a position for activists to come together to petition the Government," he says.

"I'm bringing together different people who have different ways of thinking about nature in the same space and it's up to (the viewers) to see where they want to go from there."

He adds: "Artists can be as dissonant and strong-minded about where they want to stand but, for us, being an interphase with the public, our curatorial responsibility is to keep positions open."

ArtAsiaPacific: Art And Censorship In Singapore Catch22

Here is an article by Susie Lingham for Art Asia Pacific Magazine.  Found on http://artasiapacific.com/Magazine/76/ArtAndCensorshipInSingaporeCatch22

The article talks about Art and Censorship in Singapore with the latest case (at that time) to be the censorship of Simon Fujiwara's work at the Singapore Biennale 2011.

This article also provides nuggets of information on the group 5th Passage.

Interestingly, the article was written in 2011 just after the General Elections where the PAP lost a GRC and garnered the poorest election results since independence. The article picks up on this and suggests that the public or at least the voters are shifting.

Art and censorship in Singapore.

by Susie Lingham

2011: Pornography, Art & the Law

Singapore, known around the world for its cleanliness, social order and rapid technological advancement, has been forging ahead in the arts over the past decade. However, within this arts-forward environment, censorship remains, and there is a lingering sense of something like a quota on free expression. As in any country, relations between art, the state, censorship and the role of the art institution are often fraught with contradictions. The latest case of censorship, at the 2011 Singapore Biennale, calls to mind controversial moments over the last two decades. With the advent of policy-making to develop the arts in Singapore, it is increasingly apparent that there should be some sort of safeguarded exceptions or “immunity” in the case of artistic expressions.

The year started with a silencing at the inaugural Art Stage Singapore art fair in January, held at the glitzy Marina Bay Sands, which is also the site of one of two new casinos in the country. Indian artist T. Venkanna, represented by Gallery Maskara, did a performance work in the nude, where he sat behind a black curtain, with a Frida Kahlo reproduction in the background, and where visitors could take a picture with him as a tableau vivant version of the painting. Despite an advisory about content and age restriction being displayed at the booth, the show had to be canceled due to a media outcry. The gallery’s owner, Abhay Maskara, told the Straits Times (Singapore’s main newspaper) that the gallery was asked to stop the performance, yet did not specify by whom.

Only months later, in March of this year, the Singapore Biennale opened; it was the event’s third iteration but the first to have a Singaporean artist—in this case Matthew Ngui—appointed artistic director. Called “Open House,” the exhibition played on the ideas of hospitality, trade, cultural exchange and “openness” to artistic processes and expression. Yet this curatorial approach was challenged within the first few days of the exhibition. The Japanese-British artist Simon Fujiwara’s work, Welcome to the Hotel Munber(2010), was censored by the Singapore Art Museum (SAM), despite appropriate advisory notices put up by the museum itself as organizer, venue provider and manager of the Biennale. More explicitly homoerotic than political in content, the work was considered to be in breach of the law on pornography by the museum, and contextually relevant gay pornographic magazines were removed from the installation without prior consultation with either the artist, biennale director Ngui or curators Russell Storer and Trevor Smith. When the curatorial team and artist were informed a little later, extended discussions followed, and the negotiations took so long that the temporary closure of the work called for by the artist became, by default, permanent, as the Biennale itself drew to a close.

During the opening weekend, Fujiwara also did a lecture performance that included reading extracts of erotica, which went on without incident. The artist’s own statement describes the work thus:

Welcome to the Hotel Munber is a work that examines the violent oppression of human freedom and the censorship of homosexual literature under General Francisco Franco’s fascist dictatorship in 1970s Spain. The installation emerged from a series of short fictions and performances that was inspired by the lives of my parents who were proprietors of a hotel bar during this period.

The gallery-room-sized installation was a re-creation of the 1970s Spanish hotel bar owned by Fujiwara’s Japanese father and British mother. It featured fake legs of suspended ham, suggestively arranged objects reflecting a fixation with male genitalia, a certain reference to war and violence, “naughty” collages and egg-splattered objects, as well as gay pornographic magazines. These magazines were visible to visitors, but not within reach, since they were “positioned on an elevated shelf . . . where they could only be seen reflected in a mirror,” as Ngui later explained. Apparently, however, one copy was within reach on a rack near the entrance of the space, placed beneath an original 1975 newspaper showing Franco lying in state. But, as the artist explained, the magazine was tied to the rack with cord, deterring visitors from picking it up. Besides, according to Ngui, the installation was to be “carefully invigilated so that visitors could be briefed and no part of the installation was to be touched or handled.” Exhibition co-curator Storer stated there were additional labels not to touch the works, a message the museum and its guards were requested to remind viewers of.

To clarify the matter and contextualize its decision, the SAM, currently under the directorship of Tan Boon Hui, issued a statement, part of which noted:

As it was during the opening week of the Biennale, the Museum made the call to keep the installation open and hence accessible to the public but removing the magazines. The curators were immediately informed on the same day so that they could alert the artist and seek his response. Upon the artist’s request, we subsequently closed the exhibit while all parties collectively discussed how it could be re-opened. On hindsight, the Museum agrees that it should have instead closed the entire work and we sincerely apologize for the distress this has caused the artist.

Interestingly, there were other works in the museum featuring nudity and sexually explicit content, all having the necessary advisory notices. However, it appeared that Fujiwara had transgressed the local law and, ironically, raised the very specter he was attempting to exorcise: the censorship of “homosexual literature.” As all pornography, heterosexual or homosexual, is illegal in Singapore, the magazines were quietly removed three days after the preview weekend. This intervention could be seen as an attempt to keep the work within the law and avert the possible imposition of a fine, and/or imprisonment of the artist. However, in a work that centered around (homo)sexual oppression and censorship, perhaps the removal of the magazines became intolerably ironic for the artist.

Fujiwara’s work, although premised on autobiography, heavily references the work of French writer-philosopher Georges Bataille, and seems to be an homage to his novel Story of the Eye (1928) in particular—a poetic piece of partly autobiographical literary surrealism that the author claimed related to memories of his blind father. Bataille’s purposeful transgression was in resistance to the moral authority of the church and religion. Fujiwara replaced this “enemy” with the oppressive political regime of Franco’s fascist Spain.

Frieze co-editor Jennifer Higgie, in her article “Censorship and the Art World,” links Fujiwara’s censored work with that of Algerian artist Mustapha Benfodil’s installation in a public square at the 10th Sharjah Biennial this year (Maportaliche / Ecritures Sauvages [“It Has No Importance / Wild Writings,”] 2011), whose religious references were deemed blasphemous, leading to public condemnation. Higgie asked:

choosing to present work in countries that not only have strict blasphemy and censorship laws but in which homosexuality is illegal, did the curators choose to defy local laws as a symbolic gesture or did they assume that the framework of an international art event would somehow protect them? . . . Unlike the US, both Sharjah and Singapore have never claimed to be anything but censorious.

Section 292 of the Singaporean law enumerates instances in which “erotic” material may be considered “obscene,” and so “be punished with imprisonment for a term which may extend to 3 months, or with fine, or with both.” The only exceptions, in which such an “object” is acceptable, are: a) when authorized by the law, and b) in the context of religion, with specific reference to temple imagery. Therefore, there should not have been any assumption that the pornographic magazines were any less illegal simply because they were in a museum and in the context of art. It is apparent that there must have been a serious gap in communication over details of the artwork, and potential legal problems, between artist, curators and museum, partners in the biennale’s organization and presentation.

The curators had informed the museum that there would be homoerotic “imagery” displayed, and since visitors were not going to be allowed to flip through them, they had, not unreasonably, assumed that the magazines would be classified as erotic images. Significantly, what seems to have been overlooked by all parties is the fact that the said magazines are 1970s vintage collectible objects. In this context, could their pornographic use value not be perceived as having transcended into erotica? As erotic artifacts of a bygone era, they have gone beyond their original pornographic function, even in countries where pornography is legal, since these particular magazines already belong to a private collector, and as such are out of circulation.

While the fact that pornography is illegal in Singapore made the installation problematic, the museum’s preemptive intervention may not have been necessary. The immunity of the museum as a specialized venue for an international art event could have been negotiated for and contextualized legitimately. For should the museum not have been allowed to defend its context as a venue for the proper presentation of artistic expression—even if not a literal “temple”? Isn’t the context of art unique and specific? Art, particularly in a secular society, should be recognized as that space of exception.

Pornography may be censored and hence inaccessible on Singapore’s streets, in bookshops, and on the country’s Internet, but tech-savvy locals are able to circumnavigate these restrictions, making the regulation of access to pornography increasingly irrelevant. Another moot point: Section 377A of the Penal Code deems sex between men a crime, but apparently the law in this instance may not necessarily or actively be enforced—the homosexual lifestyle is of course not at all uncommon in Singapore.

1994: The Expression of Oppression

In 1994—before the present drive to bolster the arts, when the public was generally uninformed about contemporary art—the gallery manager of the artists’ initiative 5th Passage, along with local artist Josef Ng, who had just done a performance at 5th Passage’s art space, were both prosecuted by the Singapore High Court. In what is one of the darkest moments of Singapore’s contemporary art scene, the artists’ initiative was charged for breaching the conditions of the Public Entertainment License it had lawfully applied for, the only type of license available for any performance genre at the time. And this despite the group having taken its own initiative to put up a clearly visible advisory and a disclaimer, as co-organizers of a ticketed event in a designated art space. The artist, Ng, was also charged for committing an “obscene act in public.”

The performance was part of the Artists’ General Assembly (AGA), a weeklong event jointly organized by 5th Passage and the Artists Village. Ng pleaded guilty, was fined, and banned for his performance, Brother Cane, which was a sensitively aestheticized protest against the violation of the right to privacy of 12 homosexual men, whose identities were published in The Straits Times and whose police apprehension was by purportedly dubious means, though details still remain uncertain. Particular homosexual acts were, and still could be, regarded as criminal offences, and transgressors then were subject to caning by the state. Ng’s critical performance—in which he was not at any time completely naked—“re-created” this mode of punishment by cane. It ended with the media-sensationalized moment of “protest,” when Ng trimmed his pubic hair (with his back turned to the audience). The New Papertabloid report zoomed in and blew up this image, which was accompanied by a report that was provocatively headlined and riddled with factual errors.

No wonder, though, that the incident was pursued all the way up to the High Court to be made an example of: Brother Cane could be seen to be an artistic critique of the police, the role of the press, and the law. So, for a decade afterward, performance art itself was effectively banned: funding ceased and there was the imposition of a prohibitively high cash deposit before any performance could occur. 5th Passage was blacklisted and, due to the negative publicity generated, evicted from their premises.

It is significant that, 17 years later, the latest art censorship controversy spins once again around homosexuality, male nudity and the notion of obscenity, yet contextually is altogether different. Post-1994, after years of negotiations and conversations between the Media Development Authority and the artistic and academic communities, Singapore finally forged a more nuanced license for artistic performance that takes the special contextual conditions of artistic practice into consideration. But there is always the lingering question of when the law will or will not be enforced.

1998: Censored Caricature, “Insensitivity” & Diplomatic “Disaster”

However, the real taboo in Singapore thus far has been political dissent and not sex or nudity per se. Criticism of the government and its policies, even in jest, has been seriously and consistently suppressed, and self-censorship is prevalent. In 1998, the SAM, then with director Kwok Kian Chow at the helm, hosted ARX 5 (Artists’ Regional Exchange), a long-running program initiated by Australia, involving 15 artists from Australia, Singapore and Hong Kong. Yet, what happened raised diplomatic hell: the work of Zunzi, a well-known Hong Kong artist and caricaturist, was removed from the museum’s walls by its staff (again on instructions from a quarter that remains vague), and put into a rubbish bin. Needless to say, the artist was not consulted, and no negotiations took place at all. The incident unleashed mutual accusations of diplomatic and cultural “insensitivity” between Singaporean authorities and the Hong Kong artist, with repercussions in the Hong Kong press and elsewhere.

Zunzi’s wrath-incurring caricature was called Lee’s Garden, and from accounts of those who saw it before it was swiftly taken down before opening night, it appears to have been an enlargement, pieced together from A4-sized ink-jet printouts, of a caricature of then prime minister Goh Chok Tong wielding pest-control gear, with senior minister and former prime minister Lee Kuan Yew patting him on the back. The image apparently alluded to the fact that Singapore was a controlled environment, and that the prime minister was still being directed by the ex-prime minister. Whether defamatory, or merely inflammatory, it was political commentary, and had crossed an invisible line of transgression.

Whether Zunzi was in effect ventriloquizing common Singaporean sentiment, and whether the censorship only proved him right,all the artists were asked to sign a “Contractual Agreement,” drawn up between ARX and SAM. It was entitled “This agreement for Engagement of Artist,” dated September 10, 1998, and included:

(a) the work produced and presented . . . will not be defamatory, offensive or obscene or contravene in any way the law of the place where a Residency occurs.

Muzzled by this contract on artistic expression, Zunzi can be perceived to have been, provocatively or otherwise, attempting to push the boundaries by presenting a political cartoon. The nature of the reaction though was certainly not merely objection to “cultural insensitivity,” as was the refrain. The artist should have been allowed to take responsibility for his expression and given the opportunity to explicate and rationalize his work.

2008: Commissioned & Conspicuous

 In stark contrast to these recent and not-so-recent events, in 2008 the National Museum of Singapore commissioned the Indonesian sculptor Titarubi to create a work for the rotunda of its magnificent classical colonial building. The artist constructed a monumental replica of Michelangelo’s David (1501–04) in fiberglass, clad it in a tight skin of pink batik-like floral fabric and called it Surrounding David (2008). Conceptually, the commissioned work was richly and provocatively allusive, even as it referenced recognizably “classical” precedents. The Asian female sculptor ironically “clothed” and yet exposed the Western icon’s male homoeroticism, thereby making more apparent its maker’s homosexual orientation, and, at the same time, iconoclastically feminizing David through the visual association with Asian womanhood.

The work was breathtaking for many reasons—chiefly, for where it was. The moment you stood outside the grand entrance of the museum, you were confronted by an enormous pair of stocking-clad male legs in a familiar pose framed by the arched doorway; and as you entered, you raised your eyes to behold the naked yet “clothed” and very recognizable David, his genitalia looming florally above. It loomed thus for five months, admired by the public, which presumably included hordes of school children arriving in school buses, foreigners and locals who were thrilled to see Michelangelo’s David in a new light, as well as the many Christians in Singapore who would, naturally, hold the Biblical figure in high regard. No issue: Surrounding Davidseemed to have delighted everyone. Singapore seemed to have come a long way, and museums were allowed to do their thing. So why do the old patterns of censorship and control over artistic expression keep recurring?

2011 & Beyond: What Lies Ahead?

The sociopolitical climate in Singapore is changing, however slowly. The vanity magazine Cosmopolitan, banned in 1982, is now available everywhere. And in the last few years, not just one but two grand casino-resorts have sprung up: Resorts World Sentosa and the luxurious Marina Bay Sands. They are magnificent monuments to the recognition that some human drives are irrepressible, and may even be detrimental if suppressed, and so might as well be “managed.” Politically conservative since independence, now for the first time in decades May polling results this year reflect radical shifts in the levels of silence that will be tolerated in the face of unilateral policy-making by the dominant party. The opposition parties are making their presences felt, and the disparity in votes for opposition and incumbent representatives has narrowed in key constituencies island-wide.

And as for art? Art is what makes us human—or at least allows us to ask and understand what it means to be human. Art, as well as its sanctuaries, need to be recognized and safeguarded as that necessary space of exception: the safety valve of expression in any society. No stranger to the state as stern and unavoidable bedfellow, art is necessarily an ingenious, inconvenient paradox.

Interview with Louis Ho, SAM Curator

Here is an interview with Louis Ho on this blog.

I archive this here for future reference (see below).

Suppose it might be interesting for someone to review this exhibition too for the TOC blog.

21 August 2015 - 27 March 2016
SAM at 8Q

The President’s Young Talents distinguishes itself from other art awards as it is the only mentoring and commissioning exhibition programme in Singapore. PYT recognises young artists whose practices chart new dimensions in contemporary art. Inaugurated by the Singapore Art Museum (SAM) in 2001, an independent committee comprising local art professionals and a SAM curator nominates a group of local artists, aged 35 and below, for the award, based on the depth of their practice, their potential for growth, and the contributions they would potentially make to the field of contemporary art. Each artist, working closely with mentors from the committee, will present newly commissioned work for the President’s Young Talents exhibition, which culminates in a Grand Prize winner and a People’s Choice awardee.

The list of finalists for this year’s President’s Young Talents are Ang Song Ming, Bani Haykal, Ezzam Rahman, Loo Zihan and Ong Kian Peng. Representing some of the most exciting strands in contemporary Singapore art, they will create works spanning the disciplines of performance, new media, sculpture and sound.

The 2015 exhibition coincides with Singapore’s SG50 Jubilee Year, and marks the sixth edition of the President’s Young Talents. Aptly, it recognises and celebrates the nation’s ever evolving spirit of artistic creation and innovation. Previous President’s Young Talents artists include Boo Junfeng, Heman Chong, Liao Jiekai, Charles Lim, Lim Tzay Chuen, Donna Ong, Tan Pin Pin and Vertical Submarine, among others, who have gone on to develop outstanding artwork, both within and  beyond Singapore.

http://theartling.tumblr.com/post/127209176644/interview-with-louis-ho-sam-curator

The Artling interviews Singapore Art Museum curator, Louis Ho, to find out more about this year’s President’s Young Talents (PYT), a contemporary art exhibition series profiling the work of talented young artists. 

What can we expect to see from this year’s edition of the PYT?

This year’s show, in keeping with the spirit of the President’s Young Talents series, encompasses both a wide-ranging breadth of media and thematic concerns, presented in shapes and forms that reflect the diverse and ever shifting boundaries of contemporary art. Loo Zihan, for instance, has moved the Singapore Art Museum’s entire resource room from its office in another building – some 5,000 volumes – into a gallery within the museum, and there it will be presented as a reference library, an interactive installation, for the public. Ezzam Rahman will be staging several performances utilizing little else but talcum powder, and presenting diminutive, delicate sculptures of flowers crafted from his own skin, and Ong Kian Peng is creating an immersive installation that deals with environmental issues. Those are just some of the artworks that will be exhibited at PYT this year.

Loo Zihan, Of Public Interest: The Singapore Art Museum Resource Room (2015), installation of books from the Singapore Art Museum

Since its inaugural exhibition as the pioneer art award in recognition of contemporary artists, how has the PYT charted the growth of contemporary practices in Singapore?

PYT has generally proved itself to be at the vanguard of contemporary art in
Singapore, highlighting emerging artists who go on to develop into important voices, and recognising those who, while just as compelling, have played less visible roles. Heman Chong, a PYT alumnus from 2003, is a prime example of the former; today he is one of the most prolific Singaporean artists active on the international stage.

Bani Haykal, necropolis for those without sleep (2015), installation with custom designed mechanical turks, computer-programmed chess game

The PYT has extremely talented alumni such as Tan Pin Pin and Donna Ong. Whose practice amongst all of them would you consider truly definitive of contemporary art today?

“Truly definitive” can be a subjective label. The terrain of contemporary art is
(rightfully) polyphonic, plural, contested … Past PYT projects that I’ve personally enjoyed, or found interesting, are Liao Jiekai’s installation from the 2013 edition, which saw him explore the history of the former St. Joseph’s building – home, of course, to the Singapore Art Museum today – as well as Robert Zhao’s project that same year, a sparsely elegant yet cannily reflexive take not just on his ostensible subject matter (the wild boar infestation that Singapore suffered a few years back), but broad issues of perception and technology.

Ang Song Ming, Days (2015), multi-part installation: video: photographs, drawing, text

There are two artists with performance art components in their work this year - what is your opinion on the actionism of performance-based art?

The body – in all its grace, frailties, imperfections, dysfunctions, sensuousness and sensuality – is one of the abiding concerns of contemporary art, and performance is simply the most direct expression of that.

Ong Kian Peng, Too Far,Too Near (2015), DC Motor, metal balls, steel structure; 2-channel video with 3-channel sound. Duration: 15 mins

Will the interaction between the many media types represented in the
exhibition influence your design of it? Furthermore, how does the exhibition design process even begin for PYT?

The aesthetics of the exhibition really came about – as did so much of the exhibition itself – from a dialogue between the artists, their mentors, and SAM’s exhibition and design teams. The look of each project is specific to its conceptual contours; the theme and the design had to dovetail. For instance, Ang Song Ming’s “Days” installation features a flood of fluorescent lights, instead of the usual dramatic spotlights; the artist wanted the even, somewhat clinical feel of an everyday milieu, as the work foregrounds the prosaic details of his own life.

Ezzam Rahman, Here’s who I am, I am what you see (2015), artist’s skin, nails and adhesive, second-hand furniture and glass bell jars

As curatorial mentorship is a defining aspect of the PYT throughout the entire process of art creation, what is your view on artistic and curatorial authorship?

I see “mentorship” as a dialogue, an exchange, and less of a hierarchical
relationship. For instance, I mentored Loo Zihan for his project, but – as he’ll tell you– the process was an organic, fluid one, where the curatorial shape of his installation really came about from bouncing ideas off one another. Not just between us, but the entire PYT team as well: artist, curators, the project manager, the exhibitions and design folks … Everyone played a part. Exhibitions on this scale are almost always a team effort, and should be acknowledged as such.

Today’s artists work in and respond to a global environment that is
culturally diverse, technologically advancing, and multifaceted, how do you think this affects the kind of work they produce?

It’s a connected world we live in today. Social media platforms ensure that news and ideas and values and even the minutiae of daily life are rendered immediate, visible, accessible - from one end of the earth to the other in the thud of a click. Art simply reflects that amorphous, cross-cultural social environment that we inhabit. It’s full of tension and ambivalence: between the local and the global, between a sense of the historical and an awareness of the flattened, horizontal character of the contemporary.

Curator, Louis Ho and the artist Ang Song Ming by the artist’s installation Days

Louis HO – Bio

Louis Ho is the Lead Curator for the President’s Young Talents exhibition. He is also a Curator at the Singapore Art Museum and oversees the Malaysian contemporary art portfolio. Prior to joining the Singapore Art Museum’s curatorial team, Louis Ho was an independent art historian, critic and curator. He taught classes on Southeast Asian art at a number of local universities, including the National Institute of Education (NIE), where he still lectures part-time. In addition to teaching, he has contributed reviews to publications such as Art Asia Pacific and Pipeline, and has written about the work of Jason Wee, Alan Oei and Loo Zihan, among others; curated shows have included the likes of Cheo Chai-Hiang, Ian Woo and Sarah Choo. He was trained in art history, and his research interests include Southeast Asian visual culture, the intersections between art and the social, and cinema.

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21 August 2015

Interviewed by Nicolette Sim

Images by Nicolette Sim 

Any views or opinions in the interview are solely those of the authors and do not necessarily represent the views of the company or contributors.

Interview with Keng Sen Ong, I log it here for future discussion.

Ong Keng Sen 'embarrassed' talking about Singapore in front of international artists

938LIVE reports: "I think Singapore is a country that is always 'two steps forward, three steps back'. We're actually dancing on the spot," says theatre veteran Ong Keng Sen, going On the Record with Bharati Jagdish.

SINGAPORE: Theatre veteran and director of the Singapore International Festival of Arts, Ong Keng Sen has been, and still is deeply involved in the local arts scene, but he is highly critical, even questioning, if we truly have a viable arts scene here.

Ong has been an artist probably since he was a child – volunteering for drama clubs all throughout school. 

He did all this in spite of the fact that his father threatened to disown him if he made the arts his full time career. When his parents saw that he was doing well, that his work received national and subsequently international recognition, they changed their mind.

He spoke to Bharati Jagdish "On The Record", and talks about a time when he had to censor another artist in spite of being against censorship himself, why he continues to work in Singapore in spite of his frustrations, and why he has made this his life’s work.

Ong Keng Sen: I think that we have to still ask ourselves every day, "Are we still human?" I think that very often we have become machines, and there are so many layers preventing us from being ourselves. And more and more, this kind of social conditioning is really inhibiting an individual human perspective. I'm inspired by still trying to be a human being, a human person, and to be able to reach out to another human being. I think that the arts reminds of that. I can still reach out to somebody hug a person, or hold a person because of an immediate feeling, and not to hold back.

Bharati: Is Singapore too utilitarian a society to appreciate that standpoint, to create truly passionate artists?

Ong: I think the way our Government has created Singapore is they have really entrenched certain perspectives. I'll give you an example. I had a young person once say to me that she wouldn't take literature, because literature is subjective and so you cannot get 100 per cent, while if you study science or math, you will be able to score 100 per cent. And the subjectivity of literature meant that you may actually lose out in the point system in the end. And so I was very, very shocked by this. It shows how even the young person is already very practical, and this is a 15 -16-year-old. I believe that this happened in society because the Government has already created such a structure that it’s become endemic. So now, even if you backpedal, it doesn't mean anything.

Bharati: But in fact, in the Education Ministry now, we've got new people at the helm and the Acting Education Minister, Ong Ye Kung, just recently talked about how the education system should allow people the space and give them opportunities to pursue their passions, and I know you just said that back-peddling may not work at this point, but would you leave yourself open to the idea that maybe in a generation or two, we could actually start to see real change?

Ong: Yeah, but I think Singapore is a country that is always "two steps forward, three steps back". We're actually dancing on the spot. I feel like these policies - there is one person, one minister, one civil servant who says something - but in the long run, the other structures in society will actually ensure that these statements, "follow your passion", really don't work.

Bharati: What precisely do you envisage thwarting this effort to move ahead, in terms of following one's passions?

Ong: Because I feel like ... let's say even in education, if you decide to follow your passion, at a certain point, because Singapore is so expensive to live in, many people are afraid to be freelancers. I think that they would just then fall into the route of trying to earn a living. Let's say they went to SOTA, but in the end, because of the realities of Singapore - being so expensive - you wouldn't dare to really go into the arts as a full time career. This is reality, that even though you want to follow your passion, the rest of the society is constructed in a certain way.

Bharati: You’re well-established now and get a lot of international work too, but in spite of the fact that even in the past, there was no money in the arts, you did it. You committed yourself to a full-time arts career. How is it that you managed to overcome these constructs and follow your desire to make the arts a full-time career?

Ong: I do feel like at a certain point in time, I didn't really worry so much about money, but I think that if I were graduating now, with the cost of living being so high, I think I'd be quite worried.

Bharati: You wouldn't be an artist if you were just starting out today?

Ong: I think maybe not, because I would think twice before I left my job. I would really think about it. Also it’s very clear now that the scene has not really changed in the arts. At that time, remember that in '88, when I left law school - I graduated - things were pretty buoyant. It wasn't a very saturated scene. While right now actually, you can see that there is saturation in the arts scene, because we're all pushed to overproduction. Every company is doing four plays a year, or four productions a year, but there's no audience out there. This is a crazy thing where the country is saturated with production. We're producing, but there's no demand.

Bharati: Why are you producing so much?

Ong: Because our arts council is saying that you have to produce these KPIs. Therefore, very often, people are over producing beyond their desire. If you ask artists how much they really desire to make they will say that well, if I didn't have to support the company with KPIs and all these indicators, I'd do only one work.

Bharati: Why are there so many KPIs?

Ong: Because the arts is used to show productivity, and I think that this is one of the few countries where the arts is actually supported by EDB. Because the government has to show that they are productive, including when it comes to the arts. Only if you are productive then you get state funding from taxpayers' money. For me, the arts is never going to be economy. I think the arts can become an industry at a certain point when there is a market, but now, we're putting the cart before the horse. So we're saying there must be an industry, even though there's no audience, so this for me, is over-production.

Bharati: Let's talk about the audience. I understand that the Singapore International Festival of the Arts went pretty well. Figures the NAC released last year showed that the year before, arts attendance went down to 2009 levels. So talk to me more about this issue of not having enough of an audience. What do you think is going on here?

Ong: I think that it’s down to the reality that audiences in Singapore don't want to pay for the arts. If it's free, they will go. You are flying these people in from Brazil and hence you have to support the troop to come to Singapore, but there's the usual griping that tickets are too expensive. But it's true that performing arts it is a very intensive art form, because it's a “live” performance. You can't just show a video of a dance, you actually have a whole company of dancers. Let's say, twelve or fifteen dancers on stage, and everybody has to be supported. And I think that when we say “no audience”, I think there is an audience out there, but they expect it to be free. And this is unfortunate, because you cannot support a company of 20, 30 people, which is the average size when you think of a large scale work. Counting designers, a production team, it's about twenty, thirty salaries that you have to pay for two months of a human individuals' life. Two months of salary. So if you add all that up, it's very easily S$400,000. So who is going to pay for this S$400,000? A grant will cover 25 perc ent. So in the end, I think that most of the arts groups end up doing bread and butter stuff to be able to afford their existence as artists.

Bharati: Why do you think Singaporeans don’t want to pay to enjoy the arts?

Ong: Now the Government is saying, the arts is important, etc, etc. But it’s already been set that in life you should do these things, and art is important when you can afford it. I believe that this society is still very top-down. And if the government truly puts their money where their mouth is, I think that something will happen. Like, for example, this whole movement now, this "Got To Move" campaign, right? Where suddenly, 'top-down', the National Arts Council has decided that everybody's got to move, and we've all 'got to dance’. And so, suddenly, contemporary dance has become the language of the day. And I feel that will really change the scene, but for a few years. It then depends on the fancy of the government, and they will change again, and soon it will be something else.

Bharati: But isn’t it also about the international audience?

Ong: Yeah, but I think that's changed, because in a way, I feel that the government is less concerned about proving that Singapore is a global city. Right now, arts is “instrumentalised” in Singapore. It's “instrumentalised” in the sense that, okay, what is the value of arts. “Renaissance City” was at a time when Singapore was thinking about pushing the arts out to project Singapore as a global city. And very recently, that speak - that language or that speak - changed because there was a paper to say that in Singapore, we have a lot of foreigners right now - population growth has exploded - so the arts have to be used for bonding purposes. So, therefore, you can see that the arts suddenly became instrumentalised to develop community, and for me it's never going to change if the government continues to instrumentalise the arts, and not allow the arts to exist for itself.

If you look at a country like Indonesia, the average Indonesian would be said to be poor. Yet the way they feel about art - art being a part of festivity, art being a part of ritual, art being a part of expressing yourself, how you dress, how you beautify your home - like in Bali. Art is so evident in everyday life, and I feel that this is not the case in Singapore.

In Singapore, the arts is seen to be something which is external to everyday life. What I said earlier - using the arts to bond people - is the big thing. I find that quite insidious in Singapore, that basically there is no art if art is not useful. If the art is not useful, they will not support it. They will then just say that well, you know, do it on your own, you know. Find the support from the public, your public, who comes for your shows.

Bharati: But that sounds fair – the Government supports, with taxpayers’ money, works that fulfill national goals, and artists perhaps need to find other ways of getting support for works that are arts for arts’ sake. If you look at artists in other countries, they have to work hard for corporate funding and things like that as well.

Ong: And right now, we are also working hard for corporate funding, but it’s just that it's very clear in Singapore that if it's not top-down, nothing's going to move, because it's become endemic in this society, So I do feel like that everybody is working their butts off to actually maintain their company for let's say, four shows. They're doing ticket sales, they're going out for sponsorship, and I'm very sure that most companies try to spend what they can afford to spend. But I feel that we are running on a track, and basically, the speed of the treadmill is increasing, but we're just wearing ourselves down.

Bharati: So if it were up to you, how would you do it – enable Singaporeans and corporate sponsors too, to see the value of arts for arts’ sake and to support it?

Ong: There is no way in which the system can change if the economy is stacked against it. I tend to be quite pessimistic. I think that we are all pretending that an arts scene can exist in Singapore when it doesn't – when there's no viability.

Bharati: So what would you suggest then? Tear it all down? Make Singaporean artists go overseas and practice?

Ong: No, no, no - first of all, I believe that you can make art with very little money if there is a desire. But there is very little desire in Singapore. So, whenever I hear an artist saying, “well if I get this grant, I'll do it”. For me that’s not a true passion, it's not a true desire. I'm completely with this belief that Singaporeans have no desire and we are really machines working. And we are wound up in a certain way. I think for example, the arts in Singapore has a hard time because people want to just see the arts as somewhere to relax. But it cannot be. The arts is meant to be provocative, the arts is talking about issues in society.

Bharati: So if you had to do it on your own, to create a desire in people to create their own art, to create a desire in people to want to be provoked by art, how would you do it at this stage?

Ong: I think that you really have to begin with installing a curriculum of imagination. Not just a curriculum of right or wrong. I feel that that's very important, because I remember myself as a child in 1971 volunteering to do drama club. When I put up my hand and joined the drama club, I wasn't thinking of “oh, I need to get a grade for this”. While in later years, ECA began, and you needed to have certain points, and then this would help you to go into this school, or that school or university. I think that it's really about desire, which you don't sense as a child. So I do believe that it really begins in the school, and I think that it begins in a more basic way than just having assembly plays. It's not about assembly plays. It's about having a curriculum which really allows us to express ourselves. So that's one way. So I would definitely start in a school. I came from a family that did not see the arts as very important. There was no artist in the family before but it was really completely inculcated from school.

Bharati: And that would more likely organically create an environment where art isn't instrumentalised, and becomes more appreciated for its own sake?

Ong: I do feel that the Government, as it is right now, is very concerned about using everything they can to continue to stay as the main party of Singapore. And therefore ... I'm suspicious. I'm suspicious when they say "Oh, let's have this, let's have more creativity", what are they saying actually? I just feel that it's a kind of a way of defending the fortress, that there's not much truth in the idea of having the arts in society, because it's just a way to keep the elite “happy”. It's a playpen where you play in a corner of the room.

Bharati: You've said a lot of things about civil servants over the years. In fact, in an interview published on the International Festival of Arts blog, you actually mentioned that in your job as festival director, you realised that a lot of government and civil servants don't believe in the arts, even though they're working in this field, and they don't seem to love the arts. But you still have to work with these civil servants. So how do you reconcile the two? The way you feel about them and what they think, yet having to work with them to bring the arts to the people?

Ong: I think that there's a lot of fear in this country. I remember directing a play by Tan Tarn How, it was called “Fear of Writing”, where a fear starts to control, or to govern how you act. And I think that there is a fear of failure, definitely, and there's a fear that it'll be too risque, there'll be a fear that your knuckles are rapped, and so in a way, I think that the civil servants play very, very carefully.

And the only way of working with civil servants is actually then to expand the boundaries, expand the borders. So I think that this move of having the festival being run by an artist, I think this is one way in which you can actually move the borders a bit more. When I was invited to come back from New York to run the festival, I think that central in my head was that somebody said to me “Well, artists are always complaining that it's not working, so do something about it. Come back and run the festival.” So I think that's something quite important - that you do have to get your hands dirty and actually try to reconstruct and try to reclaim some of that space.

Bharati: What fears do you think are governing civil servants that have filtered into this scene as well?

Ong: I think that you can see how civil servants are just very, very afraid that whatever they do will tilt the balance. So they try to maintain the boat, right? I think it was very telling that when the Festival was run by civil servants before, the Festival didn't have to go through censorship. But as soon as the Festival became independent, the first year they forgot about us. But then the second year, which was this Festival, in December last year, we were told that we'd have to go through the censorship mechanism. We have to apply for permits, etc, etc.

Bharati: Why do you still continue to work in Singapore when you are so against the conditions here?

Ong: Because I think that what you have to do is try to transform the paradigm, unless you say “okay, I don't want to be Singaporean. I don't need to be here, I don't want to be here, I leave.” But I think that you have to challenge these borders. You have to take on these mantles to then try to transform the way of thinking. I think that it's important to be both inside and outside of the system. I do feel like that this government has created a people who would censor other people, you know. Rather than to believe that in democracy, everybody must be free. So you know, sometimes you can see that in Facebook - how we, as Singaporeans actually try to censor others in Facebook if someone disagrees with us. And I think that it's very important to let a disagreement occur, and not to be afraid of that.

Bharati: But this happens everywhere, not just in Singapore, there will be some people who will condemn another persons’ viewpoint.

Ong: I feel that people are like kids, squabbling over something, and rather than just reasoning things out, in a very argumentative way, in a very sound way. It's not about “you're right or I'm wrong”, but let's argue about it. And I think that's something which Singaporeans are not really able to do, because they are so used to being told that "this is black, or this is white; this is allowed, this is not allowed." In a way, it's complementary in the sense that the Government does not trust the public, because also the public has been molly-coddled. Nowadays, I think even if the Government steps back, the censorship system will kick into place. Because you would have the religious right, saying certain things, let's say, about single mothers.

Immediately, there will be a wave against single mothers. And I think that this is very clear for me now, that even when the government steps back, the censorship mechanism would work in Singapore. Because we are all so used to using censorship as a way to nip dissent, even as a Singaporeans. If somebody disagrees with us, we would try to make sure that disagreement does not go into the public space. So I think that Singaporeans have really been created by the PAP, and unfortunately, because there was a mono-party, for a very long time, this is a way in which we've grown up.

Bharati: You said we shouldn’t be afraid of disagreement.

Ong: Yes, yes. And the chaos, and also the uncertainty, and just to believe that good sense will prevail.

Bharati: Why are you so optimistic that good sense will prevail? Good sense may not prevail.

Ong: I think that we cannot, we cannot ensure that our child is forever safe. We need to let the child grow up. We need to let the child go through whatever needs to happen, to fall, to collapse. And I think that this over-protectiveness is a big problem. If we continue to censor all these things from happening, we're going to become a lobotomised society. We should not begin from distrust, but should believe that these are options to a better Singapore and to allow these options to play out. Everybody wants to get their way, but I think that most people would fight for society, fight for certain rights, but at a certain point, good common sense steps in, because there's no point getting a society, which is completely ravaged. But I don't think that we should be afraid of disagreement.

Bharati: Who do you think should be in charge of growing the arts in Singapore? If not civil servants, who should be spearheading this, or how should that dynamic be balanced in order to create the best possible environment?

Ong: I think that the arts should be spearheaded by the artists. Just like, for example, you would never in your right sense of mind say that well, the medical profession should be run by someone who's not a doctor. So what makes the arts profession any different?

Bharati: But of course you'll still need the Government to step in. Government grants are a major part of all this as well, right?

Ong: Yes of course, but thing is that there is a difference between funding and between -

Bharati: Interfering in content.

Ong: Yes, I think that's very clear. Because for example, in legal systems, there are administrators, there are civil servants. They're there to provide the support. I think the natural definition of the civil service is that they are meant to be a neutral service that provides the support for politicians, but they are actually without any political affinity. So in the same way, I think the civil service who are supporting the arts scene should really be people who are supporting the arts scene, and not making arts decisions.

Bharati: Let's talk about self-censorship. Do you remember a time when you had to do it, when it felt particularly bad?

Ong: In 2014, when the festival first began, we invited Zanele Muholi who is an LGBT advocate from South Africa, and we were told by the National Arts Council, “Well, you should make sure that the exhibition doesn't go overboard."

I felt quite negative about my job, because I had to ensure, with Zanele, that whatever is possibly inflammatory should not be stated with words, that we should just let the photographs speak, and that was the kind of artistic decision that I had to make, that we won't censor. We'll let the photographs speak, but let's look at the wall text, and be careful with what you are saying in the wall text. I felt quite shitty about that, that as an artist, I had to do that to another artist. And very often, I think that I'm embarrassed in front of international artists, when we talk about Singapore, because it sounds very draconian, and it sounds horrible. Sometimes, I would meet other artists and they will say that, "Well, we can't perform this in Singapore, because there's nudity in it."

In my role as a mediator, I would have to say that, “No, I think that you have to come to Singapore. And I don't think that nudity by itself, is resulting in censorship anymore.” I think it's really about taking the risk, and really about pushing the boundary, because I believe that we care about the audience. Obviously, the artists are there because they're involved in engaging the audience in some way. We care about having a dialogue with individuals, but we are not politicians.

Bharati: The thing about censorship is that often, the authorities use this as the justification: "Singapore society is not ready for this yet. It’s against our values." What goes through your mind when you hear this?

Ong: I think that it's just a way of control, right? It's a form of control that's become very strong in neo-liberal societies in the last two decades, I would say, since 9/11. Surveillance has stepped up, and it's justified on the basis of safety, of fighting terrorism, and I think in the same way that censorship is justified. Justified on the basis that it's for the good of society.

The arts is a natural ombudsman for society, where these vapours, dissenting voices, are allowed to just be aired. If Singapore is so bottled up, I feel there's no space to air any dissent, and with that, I don't think the arts have the space to be something else apart from entertainment. I believe that I've given my life to worthy cause, and I don't think that I would like to give my life to just be an entertainer. I didn't enter the arts to be an entertainer, because I can just be an entertainer without being an artist.

Bharati: You alluded to this earlier as well. Why shouldn’t it be entertaining and relaxing at times too? You have been accused in the past of intellectualising everything. What about accessibility?

Ong: I think that there is a space for all kinds of arts, but I believe that we should encourage the arts to be a critical space. By dressing the arts up as icing, as sweet icing on top of society - that's not how I think the arts should be supported. I think that some of the statements I've heard, where the grants scheme is now used to censor the arts groups, where sometimes it's as simple as, "Oh, you should not bite the hand that feeds you." I think that that's nonsense because to me, you should not speak like this as a civil service, because this is how the arts is.

Bharati: Don't you think the authorities have a point when they imply you shouldn’t bite the hand that feeds you? Why should a Government agency give money and support to something that is against what the Government believes are national values?

Ong: Because it's not their money. It's our money.

Bharati: Taxpayers’ money.

Ong: Yes. I think that we have to be aware that this is not NAC's money. If NAC was giving their money, then I believe that we should not take the money.

Bharati: And if they say, if the agencies insist, "The majority of Singaporeans are not ready for this." Why should they use taxpayers' money to fund something that they feel the majority of Singaporeans are not ready for? That’s their argument.

Ong: That’s the voice of Government, or the civil service saying that Singaporeans are not ready. Have we had the referendum about Singaporeans not being ready? And actually, the closest we came to a referendum was 377A, where there was voting, and it showed that there were equal, broadly equal numbers. So it's not right to say that Singaporeans are not ready, because if Singaporeans were not ready, you would have, let's say, maybe a vote of 75 per cent to 25 per cent.

Bharati: This was an online poll?

Ong: Yeah, this was an online poll of 377A.

Bharati: You've mentioned 377A several times, LGBT issues. How does it feel to be “you” in Singapore? Your sexual orientation.

Ong: I believe that our sexual orientation is private, and I believe that there is no need for censorship because any kind of illegal act will be caught by other sections of the Penal Code. In the same way, I believe very much that if you repealed 377A, there will be no obscene act in public, because there are other sorts of law which will catch this kind of obscene act.

Bharati: In public.

Ong: In public. I believe that your life, your desires, your sexual orientation is really a private concern. Both sides should air their beliefs, we shouldn't censor their religious right, from doing what they want to do, and we shouldn't censor LGBT individuals from doing what they want to do. “In the public interest”, which is a constant phrase, which appears throughout the constitution.

Everything is possible, unless it's against public interest. But who's the public? I think that Singapore, the government has to wake up to the fact that Singapore has many publics. It's not one public. How do you honour the different publics?

Bharati: One could say that the “majority public” wins.

Ong: Yes, majority wins, but I think that the minority is also very important. I don't think that we want to become that sort of society where everything is decided by the majority. Basically it will become - which actually does occur - let's say in Facebook. Sometimes people say something like, "if you don't like it, then you should leave." I think that's a really outrageous statement, but at the same time I feel like, well, this person who says this on Facebook is also expressing his or her opinion. I think that this whole thing has to be more seriously critiqued. As soon as there's one public for something, there's also a public against something.

Bharati: So the minority opinions need to be respected too.

Ong: Yes, correct, and that's the role, I think, of the Government, but the Government right now is only concerned about votes.

Bharati: Isn’t that natural though? Any political party would be, any political establishment would be. Some might say it’s civil society’s job and the artists’ job to fight for other rights. It’s par for the course.

Ong: Yes, I mean, I feel like artists are not necessarily people involved in civil action, you know, in civic society. I think artists are expressing certain views, and I think that sometimes people would say that, "Who are you to say these things? Who are you to have this platform? Just because you are an artist, you have this platform." And I think that that's kind of ridiculous, because you can be anybody, and you can find your platform. You can find your platform in forum letters, or you can find your platform in Facebook.

In my position as a festival director, I think that I've stood up against censorship, I've said what I've had to say publicly, because there is an accountability to the public, so if we're getting our permits two days before a show, I think the public has to be aware that, actually, it's a situation where their rights as a consumer are actually completely governed by the MDA, who's giving out a permit, and 2 days before a performance, they'll say that, "This work cannot be performed." I think that we have to be very much more aware, as a Festival, of what our responsibility is to the public.

Bharati: You express some doubt as to whether, when the Government agencies says, "The public isn't ready for this", whether that is indeed a reflection of true public sentiment. How do you yourself then calibrate what would be of service to the public, and in the public interest?

Ong: I think that the way to calibrate, which I've used as a Festival Director, is not to assume that the public is not ready. My main role is actually to put work out there which would challenge the public, rather than by first saying that the public's not ready, and hence I've moved this to the side, I don't produce this, or I don't present that. I think that very often, as a decision-maker, you have to work through trial and error. I think that you should never assume that you know what the audience wants, because you don't know what the audience wants, because, in a way, the audience is constantly changing. There are new audiences, there are maybe old audiences that would come back in support of something.

Bharati: Let's talk about something that you mentioned earlier - Tan Tarn How's “Fear of Writing”. He had said that this play is about the complacency of the average Singaporean, of theatre audiences and practitioners, because there is no danger, no real change, enacted by our works. However, which of your works, do you think, has actually enacted some change?

Ong: I think in putting up “Fear of Writing”, for example, that enacted some change. I think that the audience was, for the first time, able to look at some of the laws that affected our existence as an audience, that we can be arrested by a censorship official without a warrant of arrest. I think that most Singaporeans were quite shocked by what was unveiled in the piece, because you just take it as an assumption that you are safe as an audience, but actually, you're never safe.

The only way we can make something safe is if we all become responsible for our own actions, and not follow somebody else's line of responsibility. But I don't want to believe that the arts is about an individual piece of work. I think that it's about continued survivability and sustainability.

If the arts continued to exist, then I think that there's a voice, which is speaking critically, objectively or subjectivity. There are many different sorts of arts, but I think that this fear of the arts being something that would open the floodgates, it's not really true.

Bharati: Shouldn't it also be about opening the floodgates, in some sense.

Ong: Yes, I think so, but I think –

Bharati: By enacting some sort of change?

Ong: No, I think that the arts has a role to play in relation to opening up other possibilities to different members of the audience. I think that it's also about, in a way, the humanist value of art. That when you are hearing about, let's say, a marginal character's trauma or turmoil, you begin to understand how these individuals live their lives. There's a validity to this feeling and, just because you disagree with her, does it mean that she should be censored? For me, theatre is a space where we hear other opinions, and that's why theatre is so important, because in these spaces, where you hear other opinions, then you begin to actually accept that there are other opinions, and not just one opinion.

Bharati: To what extent do you feel the authorities can afford to release more information on the deliberations that go on behind certain controversial decisions they make in terms of censorship?

Ong: I would like to have more transparency, definitely. For me, it's not so much about giving the dissenting voice what they want, but I think that we have to see how these decisions are being made. There is always a fear about this, because as soon as you are transparent, you can be critiqued. I think that what happens is that, very often, decisions are made in an opaque way, so that you cannot be critiqued.

Bharati: Within the constraints of today’s Singapore and how you say society has been “constructed”, how do you hope to use the arts to enact change in this regard?

Ong: I think that in the next year of the festival, we have to put the test on art itself. What if the art is not useful? That means that if art is for art's sake, if art is for beauty, or if art is for minority interest, can we still support art? In the larger sense of the word, what if we let the artist’s trajectory, or individual's trajectory become important. That's the stake that we are at, that means that what if the art is not reflecting our history, what if the art is not social-political, what if the art is about an indulgent individual's perspective? Is that still important? I think that's really the burden that the Arts Festival has to take on in its next few years, which is that do we support an individual's trajectory, even though this individual's trajectory is not useful for society. 

- 938LIVE/ly