• About
  • -Bio
  • -Contact

• On-Going
  • -Stories by the Dying Ember
  • -Double Dream Hotel
  • -Transmission
  • -Blue Trees, Black Fruits
  • -Enlarged Nerves
  • -The Retrograde
  • -A Curved Wall
  • -Shapes and Shadows

• Projects
  • 2020
    • -Strange Things
  • 2019
    • -We Hesitate to Wash Ourselves in Muddy Water
    • -Melting! Melting!
  • 2018
    • -Tom, Dick, and Harry
    • -Cinema Surrogate #3
    • -The Body and the Seed
  • 2017
    • -Aperture
    • -Suppose, There is A
    • -The Genius of the Crowd
  • 2016
    • -Cinema Surrogate #2
    • -Peninsular Session #1
    • -Klaus
    • -Covert Overt
    • -State of Motion
  • 2015
    • -Dog and Butterfly
    • -OH! Joo Chiat
    • -Closest, Softest Thing
    • -Clean (aka Mike's Car Wash)
  • 2014
    • -Blind
    • -The Beach that Never Was
  • 2013
    • -Motherland
    • -This Place is Elbow Deep
    • -Arrival Reception
  • 2012
    • -Welcome Door Mat
    • -Artist Door at 45 Degree
    • -Pulau Ubin Residency
  • 2011
    • -Bench and Pebble
    • -Chair on the Staircase
    • -Swimmer
  • 2010
    • -Room 2
  • 2009
    • -Truism Near a Water Fountain
    • -Three Sculptures
  • 2008
    • -Horizon, or Do Fish Drink Water?
  • 2005
    • -Fresh Veg

My aunt Fen passed away in June of 2019. Before and during her funeral, the family was led by nuns to read Buddhist scripture Amitabha Sutra. I was told the reading was supposed to help guide the deceased to the right path into the other realms. I cannot comprehend the dense text and passages, only able to have a glimpse of what individual Chinese characters might connote. In the end, the chanting alluded me to see and imagine fantastic imageries full of trees, overgrowth, geysers, waterholes, fountains, and fog. Lone figures meander and traverse through this spasmodic and volatile landscape. Braided hot air rises while thick raindrops fall. Unaligned crepuscular sun rays wash over me with fervor, in full contrast of my cold, stiff self. In between the thermal exchanges, I realized my skin and my eyes are the same organ; heat and light are one and the same sensation. I feel myself enveloped by these ethereal and strange sensations that I cannot quite articulate even until today. The following sketches are my attempts to locate the delirious slumber positioned somewhere between volcanic and frigid, between liquid and steam, between mirage and concrete.