The cliché that typifies a common impression of a post-modern artist is that of a lazy, indulgent avant-guardsman whiling away his hours attempting to turn trash into a product that might be appreciated (and purchased) by the wealthy elite. Similar to the garbage alchemist, you've also been exposed to stereotypes of artists engaging in pretentious behavior, the most extreme finding profound messages in partially used consumer goods and attempting to pass their own bodily waste as a treasure. Think of some hokey chump in a beret speaking in a fake accent and attempting to impress all of the anti-establishment millionaires by sculpting his rotting toilet paper into a religious symbol.
At first glance, a twenty year retrospective of a group known as The Artist Village (TAV) on display at the Singapore Art Museum would seem to confirm such absurd caricatures. As you walk through the art exhibit there are giant paper-craft alligators, industrial boxes filled with junk, containers with labels suggesting they are filled with artist urine, amateurish scrap books, and various household items that are each arranged to be carefully presented as high art.
But when one delves deeper into the exhibits and the story behind TAV, he will find that the artistic eccentricities on display serve merely as a jarring mask to hide the disturbing face of the realities that are the root of TAV's artwork. The Artists Village was originally an actual village near the Sembawang area of Singapore and was founded by artist Tang Da Wu in 1988. Art spectators that wanted to see the early exhibits had to walk thirty minutes through the jungle to arrive at the kampong where the artists spent their days creating social commentary and growing vegetables. Unfortunately, the idyllic setup of reclusive artists being patronized by their passionate, determined fans did not last long. From time to time the military would intervene and request to use the land, and by 1990 the village space was totally closed. As the group continued, they did receive some public support and were allowed to participate in events at some of Singapore's museums and universities, but, based upon the retrospective currently on display in the museum, it seems the most memorable works were displayed in closed factories and industrial spaces.
Some of the more esoteric examples of TAV work on display at SAM's current exhibit are Installing Memory by Zai Kuning, a collection of yellow industrial crates filled with seemingly random items; M. Faizal Fadil's Study of Three Thermos Flasks, a simple collection of three metal flasks; and, most shockingly, Vincent Leow's Artist's Urine, a labeled cardboard box that actually once held a bottle of the artist's urine.
Sprinkled in with these radical exhibits are works that seem a bit more accessible and less pretentious. My favorite work was Tang Da Wu's Under the Table All Going One Direction, a sculpture of three paper crocodiles springing out of a Japanese gate. The original display had the creatures lunging toward an alligator skin handbag in a not-so-subtle critique of Japanese consumerism and environmentalism. Another work evoking similar emotions is an ax that Tang Da Wu created that contains a single green stem growing out of it. (If you visit the museum you'll miss this work if you don't look carefully- it is hidden in a corner.) And since the modern artists in Singapore trace their local lineage to a group of painters that went to Bali in the 1950's, there are various TAV paintings and photos from the group's trips to Indonesia.
Fairly early on the artists in the TAV began engaging in performance art; it is these activities that would eventually generate the most conflict, specifically conflict with the government. The People's Action Party, now finding some reconciliation with these artists, has allowed video footage of TAV's performance art to be included in the current exhibit. There is one installation that demonstrates a few artists delivering a harsh diatribe against the Stamford Raffles statue in Singapore. Their main point is that the British colonial empire erased much of Singapore's early history. There is another piece of video footage on display that shows a woman being rolled around in an oriental rug in an attempt to illustrate how restrictive stereotypes affect Asian women.
The most disturbing, distasteful, and morally questionable performance created by a member of TAV was Joseph Ng's 1993 protest against Singapore's sodomy laws. During one part of this performance he added some of his pubic hair to a piece of tofu and ate it. It was at this point the Singapore Government had enough of TAV, and the entire group was villanized in the tabloid press. By 1994, an intense set of restrictions was placed on all performance art and at times up to three permits were required to display art in public. TAV suffered under these restrictions and eventually began a phase where they gave away their artwork for free. In a subtle snub at the way the Singapore government once gave out money before elections, the free artwork included an official looking certificate with several conditions attached. Several examples of these are included in the exhibit's B.E.A.U.T.Y section.
Today many of the restrictions have been lifted and TAV works are mostly low-key, collective efforts. While visiting a recent press event held at The Singapore Art Museum, I was able to meet Tien Woon, the current president of TAV. One serious concern that he addressed in our conversation is the absence of a domestic art market in Singapore. In my opinion, if members of TAV are seen as archetypes of the contemporary Singaporean artist, it should be clear why art collecting is not a main stream activity. Few people want used industrial goods, even if they are highly stylized or artistically arranged, sitting around their cramped Singaporean dwelling. Most mainstream folks, even if they are wealthy enough to collect art, don't share the radical, society-changing sentiments of TAV. A wealthy Singaporean who made his wealth exporting goods from China probably doesn't want a critique of consumerism inhabiting his living room. (During our conversation, I did little more than hint at these sentiments. There were some expatriate art collectors at the event, and I didn't want to hinder Tien from promoting his group and his wares.)
While I don't feel much TAV work has commercial viability or physical durability, it does provide Singaporean artists with a legacy of creating radical, original art. It opens the eyes of people to see artistic possibilities where none previously existed and creates a dialog for people to question some of the more restrictive tenants of society. Given that most TAV work was probably created with these results in mind, it is important to at least respect, if not appreciate, the insight and dedication that these artists have toward their craft.
The Artist Village is on display at the Singapore Art Museum until 5 October 2008.
