Kulstof 15,
Kroppen Som Proces OG Billede
International performance festival NORDKRAF,
Aarlborg, Denmark
November 2015

Photos by Peter Lind © 2015

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Saya Bukan Orang Utan


Tongue…as in for speech, for taste, and for forced vomit, as in “NAUSEA” as in Jean Paul Sarte’s the defeat of the French Resistance that led to the necesity of RESISTING as a state of “IS-ness” of consciousness and not “whatness”, of faith not betrayal, yelch! as being not just breathing…
Hard Choices indeed
but still the choice is ours to choose
there lay your freedom
the dream fulfilled 50years ago???
nay much more if you asked me
for freedom evolves with consciosness
history is a path of human making
beginning with dreams
yours and mine


Saya Bukan Orang Utang (I am Not a 'Man of the Bush') at Artspace@helutrans.

Photo by Genevieve Chua “Saya Bukan Orang Utang (I am Not a ‘Man of the Bush’) ” at Artspace@helutrans.

VEE Good

vee enuf

Grinning in your face….again…

They say everything tastes good when you’re hungry. Well not when its poison and when hunger is not cancellation of consciousness. As an artist my second motto is to stay hungry. But when you realized how stupid it is to get angry with others when it is your own actions that are poisoning yourselves. Blaming every bit of wrong doing on others when you could just make a slight adjustment to change things and make it better for yourself as well as for the next person standing next to you. Which is the new you.

Did you remember when you first walked alone happily realizing you really could be independent from the ones who helped you before? Yes the feeling of having arriving somewhere you never been before. New adventures, tastes, sounds, touch, senses all new like a baby but independent from the need to be cared by mother love. It is a special feeling that is so necessary in a life of repetitions and daily routines. We forget the joy of living. The magic of a new day. The call of adventure in the songs of tomorrow. The love in the eyes of our family and friends. We who are ready to steer the stars and reach the sun and the moon and yet we forget these simple joys of a human being.

Let us stop all that monkey business for a while. Stop that budget calculation of red and blue. Stop that begging your papa and mama for more love when you got it all but then you forgot the limits now you’re through. Stop your fuzzing your ugly friends for being more beautiful than you. Stop being genius and just be you. Wake up to the new you. Time for rest and real stew. Take off your hat. Make your mess. No matter if go east go west. Jest as much test or fest. Its good better best. Vest nest yes. Happiness is in your chest!

1 June 2015

P.S. written at Poetry Smiling. Make that grin into a smile…221651_10150155569982957_624457956_6761033_4333431_n

The New Deal is to Feel

“Don’t Think,…FEEEEL! ”
– Bruce Lee, in “The Way of the Dragon”

“Bruce Berry was a simple man who live on the corner like Dan
Late at night when the people were gone
he used to pick up the guitar
sang a song in a shaky voice
that was real as the day was long”
– Neil Young “Tonight’s the night!!”

Was it only yesterday i tried to say what i was feeling but it came out wrong i must say

How time flies. It was about a year now.

The way to heaven is to get out of hell

I woke up and found out the blues began because we forgot to end it when we got found the shoes did not fit no more for walking so here comes toe jam! And he ain’t no B.B. But he is the king of broken donkey ding! take it away Mr. Taxman can wait I got 3 days to get back yoga engineering friends get me out of hell another road go My goats are waiting!!!
0wakeupI repeat myself when I am desperate
I repeat myself when I feel I’m alone
I repeat myself when I  don’t know how to go home
I repeat myself when I seem like ready to send them rockets gung
I repeat myself when I want to pan handle the bone
I repeat myself when I can’t reach you phone to phone
0cHANGE1Guess I need a new job, so I found the only one I wish for is purfectlee fitting to my disposiTion
Does anybody KNOS Mr. Monty Python of the ministery of funny walks?
What’s the address to send my letter of application to?


Old Man Passing

1796992_10151928522747957_1201180194_oIt’s sad how petty and ugly we can be sometimes. I do have qualms about this country and not to say it’s people and those who rule this young nation. But if we want to be democratic and civil, it does not have to just be brave and dare to oppose a strong rule of one party without regard for decorum of a civilised man. My anger and critical onset is due to my wish for a more sophisticated openness in a straight-jacketed society. If there is anything your humble servant here have anything against this home of mine, this country of instant brightness we forgot how charming the nights were in darkness, if there is anything I still find problematic to the point of disdain with the rulers here is the lack of commitment towards art and artists even today. But how can I hate you just for that? Every time I go over a bridge of clean canals where they used to stink like sewers and dead animals sometimes floating bloated go by; every time I go to Tan Tock Seng Hospital and see mostly well treated patients; and my recent MRT project made me go to primary schools that have changed and well equipped with good facilities and teachers; how can I hate this man whom I may have qualms about putting art in its lowest priority but we were like Plato’s Republic dismissed as imposters and sacked from a society that almost lost its cool forever as we not only got ostracised but come back in the mistaken vein as economic soldiers of fortune! So yes I love my country and my old man who gave us much to be proud of. I grieve for him too but like a father who took care of all his children but rejected the artist until the last and still uncommitted to his real calling but a suspicious notion that it’s that no good lazy one amongst all ok just one in ten surely can affords some “wastage of electricity”‘ sigh … Bbbbut… I mean yes I do moan for he was a great artist too. Joseph Beuys may have planted trees as a symbolic gesture but my old man he gave this island city state a green environment exemplary to all other mega cities in the world that it’s possible dream to be fully urbanised and stay green. The great civil rights leaders may have led marches asking to end racism and inter-religious strive but each time I walk pass a church in worship just across the road of a mosque with prayers recited through its P.A. System and recently I discovered a Chinese temple for Tua Pék Kong added an extended side wing with a Hindu Ganesha Diety and had rituals of both in a hybrid ceremony that unusually only contemporary artists would do but more in a humorous vein than that of passionate belief. How can we not be proud of my leader in this country on the ancient path of seeking glory even if it was so small a nation that the way we describe in lighter vein is when you fart in the east you can smell it in the west. I am saddened not only in his passing but in the pettiness of some opposition politicians and worse the artists who should be gracious if not sensitive to the man who no doubt was too harsh but I would say he passes as a great dreamer with guts and responsibility on making them real. Even if he failed us in the arts and culture sphere alas look around this world is so fucked that wAy. It’s no wonder the most enigmatic work in the history of contemporary contemptory art todate if you ask me is still Tang DaWu’s “Don’t Give Money To Art”! Sometimes the politics here make me sick not only from the ones who have let success go to their heads that they float around in arrogance and self-righteousness. but the chick to complain about not given a license on Speakers Corner at such a time make my nausea into spits of alarming curses! How do we defend democracy without first paying respect that is due on a national level of participation in rituals that shall bring us together as the beginning of this man’s journey did and let us walk with him to bury him in pride and dignity at his journey’s end. Whatever our complains are, for the simple logic of ethics that two wrongs don’t make a right, and you can count me in to pay him my full respect and condolences. If ever this society reject me that my need to live in exile two times before and yet again perhaps so as my projects fail again yet again. My loyalties and aims are true if only he knew. Cause the story does not end here as I contemplate the talking on the vines. How we let the west tell us our history and listen to the second hand news just because they have a accent closer to that of BBC? When our scribes are neglected even ostracised again yet again. AND here i do not go by national citizenship but the people who really worked for this place. You and I know who I am talking about. But NO we want yea sayers who scraped the surfaces in superficial reports via internet surfing. What we want is real meat when we consider reading history and philosophy and not just a catchy title to bring in the crowds of pretty girls who cannot even spell our Asian names right. And yes if he did dare once said he did not believe in democracy, he spoke the truth if you ask me. He was a deviant original thinker who dared to be non-conforming. Alas it is only that he did not liked seeing such qualities in artists and other long haired guitar playing feet stomping hippie that only could helped this nation to be happy but not only with guns and money. For we came and we put our stakes here rootedness never deep only clinging like pests and other parasites. Your late forays with your freak sons and daughters could and should have been the stirred up the good shit to helped them roots dig deep not just superficially cling with national day songs and yea ya ya yeea sing! But still to keep me sane I wrote a song to deal with The Old Man passing liken to my old man …

Him not dead
Him in the air i breathe
In the water I drink
On the ground I walk
And the trees that sheltered us

The old man just like my old man
Sometimes I can’t understand
Why your love is so harsh
With the rules you lay on us
Make us walk wretched miles
Art centers with shopping aisles
Disconnected our nature trials
Put us back into circus files
Him not dead
No him not dead
In the air I hear
A distant bell so clear
The rhythm of another drum
Words of Songs
Strayed to broken waves
Echoed in darkened sorry caves
Flipped back in senseless calls
Pretentious of innocent falls

Just like my old man
Some times I just don’t understand
How your company of men
Tell you stories from streets of this land,
In fact files built with lies
Just to protect their own kind
Was it the time of long ago
You knew us from the word Go
You walked the back streets
In corridors and hallways of ivory towers
The neglect of backyard poetry
The rejects of forgotten histories
Re assembled without deliveries
In order to scrape the carpets of faded glories
We snuggled like church mice
Too polite to be unkind
Listen to professors with postcard minds
they come a dozen a dime
Describing art to the Kings
of the Deaf Mute and Blind
Who says we got no histories
You rejected those very troupes
Who wrote them straight from the heart
Yet you preferred distorted raps
From officers of faithless loyalties
Faked hisses misses and kisses
stirring coffees on marble side tables

Just like my old man
Sometimes i can’t understand
My old man
How your love is so tough
You gave us no chance
And yet claim you’re one of us
My old man just like my old man
You never liked the ones who had guts
Who dared like him
In a country of the blind and be King
Than be amongst mortals of equal service
Stay with ideals of the past
when we opted for the sovereignty of the people’s ring
just got louder than who may sing
In the twin durians of shining stars
them paired desert oasis vacuum sucks
Noisy roaring F1 cars
and other mothers fighting sars
As stray cats calls like rickshaws blahs
the high priced foreign superstars
Ignoring our backyard working class bars

Beauty is a daily battle fought in our hearts


“Stories My Father Never Told Me.” 2011

9 March 2015

two months past me by or did it?
did i?

the you and the i and the way time flies
it feels as if the i was not i but was i or had i been?
did you know him?

I’ll try and try and try
not nearly to be the same I but to take it further on
so I not I don’t bother I cause it is that further on up that road
the one i want the i to be when i get to be i

ok you think there’s too much i on my mind
but me oh mine that i is such a fleeting moment
self indulgence won’t help much cause
i won’t be i the next time you pass me by…
see how….

I Kill To Sing For You –

These Broken Donkey Songs

ONE meddled with your soul
another sailed round you like a seal
and third as always was there beside yet not in sight
so ring them if not she will leave never to come here again
string them if not she will leave never to steer round clear again
sing them if not she will leave never to come near dear again
like a throne without a bone to stone
nor a screw to drew them out these brews the dodgers of curfew
if only you knew if only you knew if only you knew how the view to deal
few dew zeal in to reeling into real thrill on the periphery of the robin’s BILL
give give give give giveeeeeee give give give give giveeeeeee give give give give giveeeeeee
he teaches health wealth i side-stepped with nonwit humor.
played with thoughts on darkness sadness death badness in out of red black drained gain bane hades pain
that’s when i gave away my madness in exchange for my zack of gads bags of SAD AXES DANCES

Altar For Changes

I had the honour of participating in “Intervene! Interrupt! Rethinking Art as Social Practice”, a symposium held in 2008 hosted by University of California Santa Cruz. The grand finale of the event was a green wedding ceremony held in the woods with a simple stage that was just simply beautiful in the context of the whole idea in itself. It was the wonderful wedding of three female what shall i call them “entities” for now. Elizabeth Stephens and Annie Sprinkle were tying the knot with their lover, Mother Earth! After the great turnout of friends and well-wishers giving their blessings by way of performances on a stage at the edge of the campus forest. It was certainly an unforgettable event that was so bizarre that I felt as if I had walked into a dream.  I was still reeling from the the buzz of attending the performance, a ceremonial celebration that not only spoke up for the individual rights to be different but also at the same time extended into an eco-consciousness by also marrying Mother Earth. As we were moving on to the reception and getting into queue for our food, I got distracted by seeing that a small crowd was surrounding Annie Sprinkle to congratulate her personally and was debating with myself whether to do it too as I’m a fan of her too. Instead I bumped into Elizabeth Stephens, and I felt it was equally “alright!” to congratulate her on behalf of the newly weds. I added the comment that I was from Singapore and I cannot imagine such a manifestation can ever happen knowing how conservative we are. Elizabeth gave me a smile of confidence and with professorial tone of voice said to me: “you have to fight for your rights!”. I was dumbfounded as in my heart I was thinking to myself “Man you don’t how tough it is over there” as I ran through an internal flashback on those years of  funding proscription against performance, and the licensing headaches we are subjected to and various battles against censorship we have been doing.

Altar for Changes

Altar for Changes

I have been making a series of what I call “romantic self-portraits”. I started drawing them as a response to my erased self-portraits in my solo exhibition “Lucid Dreams in the Reverie of the Real”. The erased self portraits at the same time re-visits the erasure of Willem de Kooning’s drawing by Robert Rauschenberg, were somewhat a tongue in cheek commentary of our society’s tendency to suppress individuality in order to prioritize behavior as a social group.

When I was approached to submit a work for the “Modern Love”, I was toying with the idea of a self-portrait as a rickshaw man. It was based on a charming old photograph image that a friend sent to me. We have been dreaming of doing a video project together of a day in the life of a rickshaw or trishaw man. And he has been sending me images of rickshaw and trishaw from time to time. So the romance of drawing my own self-portrait as a strong man with strong legs pushing the rickshaw of a gay couple dressed as if they were newly weds provided my chance to convey a message that there are still various issues in our society to be addressed.

As we face next year to be the 50th year as an independent nation state there is anticipation for celebration. In contrast to the triumphant mood of celebration the “Altar for Changes”  reminds us of the yet to be addressed outstanding issues in our society today that we should consider calling out for change.

“His-story & Other Stories”…..

or how to avoid a confrontation without really trying…

I am very pleased with myself today for due to my illness, and my sweet innocence, I was able to avoid a confrontation with the prince. You see I do believe in negotiation with the powers that be and that is why I am where I am today. But it’s not a comfort zone: BELIEVE me. However my heart is in an emotional mess if you want to know more I’m afraid I do have limitations on my privacy although oh some of the people think I am BBC on everything in my life. But you are wrong. The thing is, I have said this many times  before and here again I know well that fame is an occupational hazard for artists and the better you get the more hazardous it grows.  I am very honest about that and I think the people who are close to me know what I am talking about. But when one has emotionally unsettled heart one is hard put to confront larger responsibilities whereby I for one would not back away from normally but this time round please excuse me. I do have things I wanted to say and in fact oh it is much too much for if you only knew how I am feeling and why I gave up my family name for TANG yes its an artist’s name on facebook but you know if you know. Nay I would have to….Future Poof stay cool…like a flower? Ahem! uumph…

Anyway it was his first date and it is looking quite promising for better things to come. But tell you what i think, like all first dates, if you’re a smart gal you don’t even try to touch right? Ok maybe a little bit, just for test test ho ho ho!

At the most you listen to what he is saying and you watch his next move. Cause you know these days we gals got to be taking the worst case scenario first of all: ” ALL MEN ARE BASTARDS! ” AND especially when your date had not even gave you a glance for 49 long years and now its good isn’t it. But too good if you ask me. So let’s say we done it but what’s next? After first date?
I tell you what I did. I went home. But it was not easy to decide cause I also got pains on my body and i forgot my pain killers. So I went home …and I sang my songs for my friends and we had a good time for fun. I haven’t had this fun for long time. But here, my songs are real. If musically it may all sound the same but like my friend Roi Vaara, from Finland who incidentally play a real good blues riffs of a wider variety of repertoir than me, once commented,”hey your songs all sound the same but if that is your concept its ok, but ….” and I laughed and said “Hell! It’s the Anyhow Blues ! Man whadayaa expect?”
’cause my time is precious and I have pains on my body i need to deal with so as far as I am concerned i got no time for first dates scenario.And i take art seriously OK! Let me know if we get to the negotiation table cause there I have a black book with a list of  things I would like  to present to his excellency.
I have no time for cheap first dates. Let’s talk. Seriously. I have a 15 years old son and I realized how bad a father i have been and why my battle gets tougher and how Parkinsons takes its toll on me.  And how this Godforsaken country still give peanuts to the ones  they know not but are so treasured by more enlightened socieity. But if you still give me that PAPA thing to me after neglect of 49 years?.sigh…aiyah….I rest my case. and what i got. I only put into my little black book as if it really matters. Cause you know we all need a miracle sometimes! Even pigs sometimes have tears when they see pearls! (maybe it was in my dreams) and carry on with sunflowers in the rain…

gal good night, don’t let the bed bugs bite!

photo-1 We been evicted from this house. Sad.

I cry for you O’ Singapura

“Sometimes it’s bad
When the going get’s tough
Ya may look in the mirror
Ya may wanna give up
Sometimes we don’t even want to try
Sometimes we cry”
– Van Morrison, “The Healing Game”

i have to explain, why i am sometimes in tears. Maybe i am over the top in my sentiments due to an incorrigible romantic streak inside. Or maybe I am tired of telling jokes. Especially when we don’t hear really a hearty laughter no more but usually that squiggly “hehehe!” as if quite often it sounds a lot like we are just reading them “Ha ha hee hee Ho ho” of an sms text on the ubuitious damn mobile fone that’s hypnotised a whole gerneration and a half this side or that new era of Anthropomophenes” and my wife still the last of the mohicans resisting owning one today (a hard core ‘keitai hantai’) and i can tell you it ain’t cute when you married to one and lately i declared once again to her that it’s over between us and yet we are not and that is probably the reason for my inability to hold back my tears.
i normally will not say things about personal relations in public discussions but it has come to a point where i have to in order to retain my seemingly eroding or thinning of a shaven dwindling integrity or trust in my ability to live up to the many claims of responsibility I am consciously claiming out of certainty that not many in this god forsaken society bother with the things i feel is necessary and hence have added to my already full choke a bloke schedule.
I cry for you Singapore because you have pains and yet you do not give enough attention to them, or even acknowledge them. You have pains that are symptoms of your ills but you do not see them or are numbed to them taking it astride like a stoic warrior ignoring these pains in order to fight the larger battle.Your continued trivialization of these pains you say is pragmatic, that’s the way to move on. But for me the fact that these pains you chose to ignore are in fact all the reason why your idea of moving on is nothing more than an aberration, another long held recurring nightmarish delusion.  For the pains are the symptoms and areas of utmost concerns to be confronted, addressed, changed if not seeking care in order to heal that body in pain otherwise we shall only be playing illusive games of virtual movements of ‘moving on’ in progress toward that bright promise of a better age.
I cry for you my Singapore for your little red dot of a great promise keeps missing the point. I once sang with gusto an anthem had my mates sniggering for being not loudly singing it were made to sing it again and again by the disciplinarian school principal. Boys will be boys they say and naughty as they come they enjoyed the vexations of the principal punishing us as seeing him behaving in anger or in irritation, was an extra performance to watch and at real reason we rather liked it that it took almost the whole first period of the classes and usually we were half asleep anyway. But naughty as I was I secretly held patriotic sentiments whereby I would always be singing the anthem in my loudest, feigning nonchalance in parlance with my mates but I had as much faith in this song to sing it loud with my heart a blazing.
And yet I cry for you Singapore, for your people may have grown in fortune, in numbers, in education, sophistication and experience, exposed to various diverse cultures by travel and tourism and yet in many ways hold on to out-dated ideas of currency in terms of refinement that often enough is causing unnecessary anxieties as well as questionable postures of uneven judicial administration in a population of increasingly evolved individuals of self reflective consciousness.
I cry for you Singapore…


When Peace Comes To Town

We ain’t gonna lay no military budget down

When Salman Rusdie said+

“But the overwhelming weight of the problem lies in the world of Islam, and much of it has its roots in the ideological language of blood and war emanating from the Salafist movement within Islam, globally backed by Saudi Arabia.”

We could change the words Islam and the backing country name and the Salafist movement with other relevant extremist movement just as easily and not be far from the truth in our globalized world of great bright hope for the future in the midst of grand old ideological paranoia getting more and more visibly threatening poses of inevitable terrorism to come. His aggressive tone is an extremity in defence of his position as an intellectual, artist writer who had done masterpieces said to be detrimental to a way of life and an insult to those who are in close identification with those Rushdie criticizes nay condemns.

I understand both sides but I would cross the line to be where Rushdie will be standing but I shall have a heart that will also find blood in my tears for those on the other. For whatever atrocities they have done we look back in history and find equally horrendous things have been suffered by them, just as well if not more and been mostly perpetrated by those who held the flags of freedom and democracy most high but at the same time also raping the lands of these angry societies that accumulated so heavily that resulted to the current anxieties in  retaliation in such desperate and violent measures. Looking at them all in more historical details, it won’t be a big gamble if we will bet to our last dollar that will reveal those humiliation and shame that pushed them into their present fearful sad situation.


PingPongSUzhou copy

“The Realm in the Mirror, the Vision out of Image”, Suzhou Jinji Lake Art Museum, SuZhou, China, 9 May 2013 – 18 August 2013

The Art of Apology

“There is no such a thing as art. There is only invention and creativity. There is no such thing as literature, only imagination and the will to remodel remake recreate the future by understanding our history. The ability to fully accept our wrongs and right them by facing them and willing to be ashamed and apologetic. But do not turn away from mistakes as if we do not make them.”
– “A Country With No Names”
commissioned text for “Files Not Found”,
Palais De Tokyo, Paris, France June 21 2013

If there is one aspect of cultural difference that may take a long time to change between East and West, is that of saving face and the inability to apologize for mistakes that may show a gross inadequate understanding or erroneous judgement on the part of a leader or the revered figure of authority to the social group that look up to the ones seen as wise, flawless and well deserving of the populace’s admiration. This after all is also due to the fear of a “once bitten twice shame” become an irreversible loss of respect hence the chance to be forever defeated from one’s advantageous role.
If only we would see that in fact it is those who admit human failings and quickly make amends for them that rightfully gain our respect, so much of what we waste our time and energy on could be used to better advantage and return our adolescent squabbles, unnecessary games of blame and shame into the much neglected but urgently requiring immediate address to be really in our crises ridden earth full of pressing symptoms of our ills and make time for real discussions of the real problems that are just about to tip us into obscurity if not imminent dangers of extinction by sick self destruction, the way we are actually raping mother earth and of its offerings in terms of bio-diversity and dying for working out the various considerations of eco balance in the consumer culture that will only get a chance if we learn to live consciously with tested ways of self-sustainability.
Instead what we have are the same old same old macho dynasties of cronies thinking their fake objectivity will carry us into a future, so be it bright we gotta wear shades ? did someone say? did you believe that?
The only shades i care to talk about these days is this BLACK SQUARE that we inherited from Malevich.
So yes I shall not pretend to be celebrating but I shall be apologizing profusely that I AM SORRY!

The Revolution - Tang Da Wu 2013

“The Revolution” – Tang Da Wu 2013 Institute of Contemporary Arts Singapore.


Revolution is dead, dead is revolution
It died the day we buried art
, we tried to be too smart
We took ourselves oh too seriously
Trading art like treasures, is only like money trading for money

Freedom too is gone, lost our last cause
Long gone our values, blinded by selfish greed
we tried to save it with philosophy and theory
Mind fuck it to death with all kinds of Ideology

What we got now, All that’s left is comfort and security
Preservations for the sake of posterity
In the name of justice we forgot integrity
In the name of truth we forgot beauty
In the name of progress we forgot how to be happy

Art is dead, dead is Art
Not another start, until we learn to play it smart….

Open Letter to Gary Pollard, RTHK: Art Basel Coverage

Dear Gary Pollard,

Re: The Works/The Pulse/In Conversation/ RTHK: Art Basel Coverage

Thank you for including me in your TV coverage of Art Basel Hong Kong 2014. I am grateful to be featured so prominently as part of such a prestigious event. However, I would like to clarify certain inaccuracies in the report concerning my relationship with my gallerist and agent, Ms. Helina Chan.

As a performance artist from Singapore, I was well aware that if I wanted to perform at Art Basel Hong Kong, then we would have needed to include the performance portion in our curatorial project application submission to Art Basel. While we were sending in the applications for my participation, I had already decided not to sing or play at the fair. So when I brought the guitar to the fair, it was because a friend had invited me to perform and jam later that night with others in an artist-run pub. This was the mutual understanding and agreement I had with Helina’s gallery and with Art Basel HK.

The arrest of Cheng Guan did make me think that his situation does call for an intervention. However, I did not feel the fair was the appropriate occasion for such an intervention. I was more worried for Cheng Guan’s safety and did not want to do anything that might jeopardize his release. Helina was not aware that I had spoken to the RTHK journalist about the song I had written for Chen Guang, as she was not with me during the interview.

Helina did not want us to disrespect our agreement with Art Basel HK. I agreed with her stance, and knew why she took my guitar to help store it away – although it may not have seemed so to outside parties. Your staff member, Ms. Lau, if I am not mistaken, is an old acquaintance who had worked in Singapore before. She may have seen me grimace and complain when the managing director took my guitar away from me, but she jumped to conclusions.

With regards to the block on seeing and interviewing me, it was my call, as I was dazed and confused after my blackout, so I told the gallery not to allow anyone but friends to reach me on the last day of the fair in Hong Kong.

With all due respect to your good office, I want to clarify that my gallery managing director, Ms. Helina Chan, should not be seen as one who restricted my actions, but in fact is a good and respected partner.

Thank you,
Yours sincerely

Lee Wen



A Black Square for the Little Red Dot

What is the time?

“What is the time?” Performance, 2nd DaDao Live Art Festival, Beijing,2004

The earth has been changing more than it normally would if she does it by herself without human interventions. It was not so bad in the beginning but the interventions have gone beyond certain limits of tolerance by mother earth. Mostly due to capitalists with power and greed to profit in larger and faster manner. It is up to us to take pro-active measures to prevent this from not only destroy the earth we live in but quite inevitably it leads to our self-destruction. I am not a dreamer so far fetch to see this happening. That the evidences are clear and we need to work together. However there are many possible ways. Just as many ways to detract from the question are even more destructive propositions that offer to address these issues but in fact leading us further astray. There is a need to take heed of the fallacious list of so called pragmatic solutions such as: 1) support the status quo and all will be okay, rock the boat and that is certainty of our own demise. 2) nuclear power is fastest way and new is clean and manageable 3) The military is most important to safeguard peace and security.
1) Democratic systems of representations are easily shaken out of its earlier intentions whenever it leads to centralization of power. It often seems when society get on in general terms of development, the creeping tendency of the centralization of power goes on unabated as the citizens are busy working on improving their own lot and circumstances. Our human heart has always been a battleground for good and evil. I need to keep check of myself all the time and I believe so does the status quo, no matter how innocent or idealistic they were in the beginning but the temptation of evil forces are at work all the time especially when we least expect of it.
2) There is still not a single good solution to take care of nuclear wastes even though they do have ways to hide them temporary. The problem is the more nuclear energy is produced and used the more radioactive wastes is accumulated and we have to deal with. I read time and again how negligent we have been and just one mistake may lead to great sufferings we never imagined could happen. One such example is the shocking news about how some ships were discovered by chance that had been sunken in the middle of the Atlantic ocean and were actually loaded full of nuclear wastes that presumably were taken up by some crook companies to be gotten rid off without proper idea where and how it was to be done and must have conveniently sunk the ship thinking no one will know since the radioactive wastes are all casted in concrete and will take years or centuries before they might cause harm. It had the nonchalant “so who cares?” attitude and as long as it does not happen in our life time. So the logic of safety in the newer designs of nuclear production is only as far as within our life time. But what about the time of our children’s children?
3) As I had said many times before the fact that we had two world wars and the guidance of traditions, religions, and wisdom of the minds who inspired us to its current sophistication and cultural manifestations, need us still maintain our barbaric animal instinct to kill that who is different from our own in order to protect our right to see the continuation of our traditions, our way of life? If there is a God/Allah or whatever name we shall call this higher consciousness, “ultimate reality” (as William James very well name it in comparative studies), surely human beings were put on this earth to celebrate the glory of life through the many diversities of language, culture and manifestations of a global ritual that is regularly set to the rhythm of the daily, monthly, annually animated natural cycles of the stars, moon and the sun through peaceful exchanges country to country, culture to culture, and languages to languages. not by the nozzle or barrel of a gun in the megalomaniac’s intention but by love that was the reason we were put here from the beginning in the singing, dancing, graceful manifestation of a consciousness seeking harmony and understanding as one heart beating joyously next to another without need for power to control the other by fear inducing actions and other destructive means.
I was introduced to artists from other lands first as a child. It was a large book amongst a pile of other books left to us when my father passed away. It was a colourful book of children’s drawings that was the main source of joy whenever I flipped through it. Somehow I still feel a thrill whenever I get a chance to talk about it. I imagine it must have been a kind of catalogue of an exhibition of children’s drawings from all over the world. Whenever I participate in international art events I often find that artists are naturally inclined to talk in very critical extremes and I realize that they often give a picture not so pleasant when we compare them to what we hear and read about in the mass media. It is not just a matter of self-victimizing in order to gain sympathy but an underlying worry as most of them are sensitive people who care about their society that they are more harsh than expected.
Added to that we want others to know the discrepancies we offer is not to put ourselves down but to share the knowledge first hand and remind others that we all live in a complex world that needs mutual respect and understanding. To be a good friend is to understand their pains and sufferings too and not only to celebrate joys and successes.



my pain is sane
to acknowledge it
not ignore or trivialize it
to confront it not glorify it
it is the first step to healing
i feel anger and if i cry it is more from anger
and anxiety than sadness
that we do not get together to do something about but rather remain alone
screaming our silence with tears of rage alone
that leads to suicide of the hopeless
In resignation of the choiceless

In solidarity with the pro-democracy in Hong Kong rally held at Hong Lim Park last night gave me a hopeful insight to prop up my already dismal and fading jaded faith in Singapore’s sundown art scenario attempt to hurriedly switch into sunrise. I must admit that my attendance had been encouraged more by my need for that of going out from Gillman Barracks for an affordable dinner while at the same time to bring a guest visiting from U.S. there as she wanted to know more about the scenario here and was an captivated audience of my so called ‘not a performance’ presentation last Friday. I would almost classify this as one of those local attractions like Bird Park, the Zoo, or other attractions whereby may never crossed my mind for me to visit until a foreign friend asked for directions that I realize that it would be advantage to go with her out of my good will and hospitality and at the same time gave me a chance for me to refamiliarize myself with my home country while giving points of key importance so as to also re-analyse my changed perception of our nation in transition if not revolution.
The difference this time is that a public rally like this is also organized and attended by humans and not merely a venue of interest. I arrived in Hong Lim Park just about when the speeches had already finished as one man was announcing his wrapping up last words concerning the lighting up of candles and messsages on paper as instructioins for a final wrapping up. I was all sweaty from the quick paced walk of anxiety towards the park from Chinatown MRT where i would think any other tourist attraction would have better signage of directions pointing towards the park from the MRT station.
However I must say I was happily surprised to see a larger crowd than expected and although as I suspected to observe the gathering in solidarity consisted I believe of a larger crowd of people from Hong Kong than of that of Singaporeans.

I am much clearer than ever about what is happening in my life as an artist since the return from Istanbul. The only thing that I have a great deal of difficulty with the status quo is what is preventing the game players who are not that different especially when the people who were once upon a time from the same beginnings of our struggle, see the need for solidarity and to be honest with the times as of by now we should notice how the house we are all in had a different permutation of our “musical chair” game, of which at the end of the day still played to the tune provided mostly by one of the powers that be. The only way we can get that tune to rock out more diversely and providing positive contributions, in line with the kicks in our lives is for us very much in need to be willing to forget the differences between the ones who are asking for these changes. If indeed there are serious reasons to complain that the tune being played is getting dangerously drifting towards that of the military and uncomfortable drumbeat of boringly if not wavering towards fundamentalistic intolerance, in the name of traditions or other conservative regards, that the authorities are so clearly in need of a check and balance coming from the grass roots and grounds of art and cultural workers. And yet we who find them really for want of a better comparison is still stuck in the rut of patriarchy treating us like teeny boppers fearing our immaturity may destroy the status quo when the time we had seen deserves a more complex tempo.
It reminded me of the A.G.A. times in which the suggestion of pooling of resources to print the one page statement in Straits Times was at first received with warm enthusiasm but switched to that of a cold silence when Kuo Pao Kun cautioned the community of the repercussions of the state’s possible harsh response. Alas are we not yet grown beyond that? Do we still have not the stick in our social fabric to work together to make sure our rights be served by rulers as servants of the people and not tyranny nor dynasties with their entourage of cronies?
Mind you I have grown up in this society with great respect if not deeply in strike with marching towards the day of reckoning and fool am I if while adhering to ideals of old, to still believe that it’s possible to dream that ours may become a great society albeit tiny in comparison to the mother country and empires of past history.
If it makes any consolation I sometimes tell myself to let by gones be bygones as aren’t we all merely playing a movie in the footnotes of the Truman Show. The only thing that is not happening is that the individualism I so much believe in and fought for just about cut so much into one for the selfish gain and pride to serge forward so much so that we are in the tendency of now lacking the ability to switch to one of solidarity when the time and contexts have shifted where civil society needed action again in union of individuals in social groups of common ground. And if we cannot drive on in the required shifting of our gears to work together then I am afraid that my belief in individualism together with my fear of the game of defeat become mine and yours forever more…
Last sigh for the black hole of Malevich
into thy squareness i shall dive.
Pray my friends let’s rise up and together shine
and make our revolution that of love
that our leaders should know have no higher
as we all are servants to that one and only one above
No need for anniversaries
Nor mobs Nor armies
but real guys with real hearts for real democracy shall
rule with laws and true to serve all at the eternal game of win and win all round
not one one one one one one one
thanks to Rachel and the organizers of the rally
i slept well last night feeling less shame from walking with you!!!


To my dearest friends in Hong Kong,

I am in solidarity with you now, the way you have always been in solidarity with me, supporting my human rights work throughout the years.

Thank you for believing in the value of my work, and now comes the time for me to render you my moral support from where I am.

Yours in solidarity,

Related events:

Democracy Now! Singapore in Solidarity with Hong Kong

Calling for International Support for Democracy in Hong Kong

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Sadness is sitting on the wall and looking up and down
when its obvious that a fire is burning .
hey don’t turn away guys, where is your mind?
Screen Shot 2014-09-30 at 3.09.24
1 for hongkong pray for the safety, for the humanity of authorities not to use violence, for wise leadership on both sides to quickly be identified and find an union in reconciliation through peaceful resolution.
2. Singapore shud try to help. as neutral party. why not ? Big Bros shud show they respect small countries in order to gain trust of the people of Hong Kong. I don’t like mob actions too. my friends misunderstand why i don’t participate in 6/4 events. i explained first i am not into anniversaries, even birthdays and deathdays weddings and national days. i did respond to 9/11 though cause i was caught in Lunaganga of Jeffrey Bowers beautiful estate in Sri Lanka when that happened. it was such a bizarre experience for me i did 9/11 art projects as a homage to peace on a personal level for 5 years after each not announcing its significance only in my heart. the last one was doing it on 10 September because our singapore biennale shited to 11 sept without my knowing. it was difficult to shift the date further afield as actually i do not want to clash with the biggies, so i just did one day before. by serendipitious timing we got a bigger crowd than expected with an private close door performance where i tested nude performance with a revisit of Yves Klein. anyway i don’t want to detract too far.
My sadness here is for Singapore’s innertia and apathy both with the people and the state. i am sad that how the young are so quiet and lost in space, with no opinions and me sorry to say sitting back to wait for others and 3 old ladies in my home tell me not to speak up when I have not even started . I always thought women should rule the world but when my three old ladies say that it remind me of the Japanese zen monk who said “Women are trouble!” Don’t believe him cause i know women who have correct attitude but please come on where is thy soul? Singapore?
3. Sun rise pray geronimo not necessary to die but ready is ready and alll yee humpty dumpty get off that wall!!!
bless you hongkong, let wisdom be on its way before its too late. one song i sing for you and you and you…
To Hong Kong with Love..
sadness, silence, soul-seeking
art as prayer, peace, penance, petition, propitiation

for you i pray again
and again for
A Revolution of Love
I want to celebrate everyday
Everyday a revolution
You know the earth goes around the sun
three hundred and sixty five a quarter days a year
that makes more than a revolution a day
A revolution of love
That’s how I found out that hatred hide away
Replace that idiocy of hatred with love
Take out that discontent and replace them with ser
My path for the future be love
Let’s celebrate the revolution today
For going around that bright sun
the source of life and source of light
to put away the darkness and hatred
to live and not to kill each other
this earth is big enough for all of us
stop that hatred and blood shed
stop that senseless killing
learn to live with each other
not to kill and to live in harmony
in the light of the source
there is only one revolution
the revolution of love

Culture of Fear
Nothing like a good crisis that you can get to know what others are thinking of you. Like I been warned or insinuated for being opinionated for the wrong reasons. Gone are the days when making a stupid statement can mean just that: foolishness. But it comes with a warning that pretty much tries to get us to shut up, or else.
:”don’t let your friends in Hong Kong make use of you to make statements. It is not your battle!
: Health Care come first. It’s no help if you are not alive.
It all boils down to the fear culture of one party rule, out of either so much in common to centralization of power in the mother country such as that in Hong Kong does parallel our own albeit a bit much difference in scale are we. The thing that is different from the mother country how ever is not only one of scale but also that of distance.

But I just do beg to the ones who’s been going on at me to refrain from the recent entries in the matrix as well as in life to rest assured that I may have been in various times been lost in my self doubt but my baptism in fire had in fact gave me a strong sense of what is going on with the responsibility to speak the necessary that is within the legal framework of what is in need of clarification and what not. That which is permissible should be inside this framework of legality. If not we should then be asking for it.

If these people want to live long they should let me be and sing these songs with me.

I rather die than live in a world that does not speak its mind.

Two Sighs For Democracy

“Leaving is not something that any of us talk about lightly. It feels like desertion and betrayal. But I suspect that many, like me, are starting to have that conversation – not because they do not love Hong Kong, but because they can’t bear to see the home they love slip away.”-Joyce Man


Audience in The Substation, meeting to announce final decision of Bukit Brown

Audience in The Substation, meeting to announce final decision of Bukit Brown

Have you ever wondered like I do how Singaporeans seemingly empathize completely with Hong Kong’s current state of affairs? Are we not like siblings or two lost twin cities, of the old empire and imperial giants such as the United Kingdom of the once Great Britain. Or descendants of a motherland who saw herself as the “Middle Kingdom”, (中国) and the designated ruler being one decreed to rule all under Heaven. Or are we the proclaimed brave new world getting ready to break free? As if we are still under bondage of a historical past that was not totally under our own jurisdiction. Alas! As with most post-colonial states and countries our birth and creation depended on the mercy and prudence of our former rulers who conveniently gave us our independence usually at the expediency of saving themselves as their own resources dwindled in decline as the empire created and enjoyed grew too large for their ability to rule efficiently.

It is ironic that today both Hong Kong and Singapore are supposedly having the most directly democratic systems in their history and yet are seemingly facing the same spoils of a citizenry who tends to look at elsewhere for a better life whereas it is two of the most favorite cities for investing in new businesses and new entrepreneur ventures.

Maybe it depends on how do we define what the people really want and ASK for it instead of harping on failures in historical past. Instead of rallies for remembering the past there should be more platforms to allow the enthusiasm to  stand and fight be more pro-actively articulated before the typically silent apathy of majority (the so called dubiously ambiguously identified man-in-the street) mentality coupled with the fatalistic resignation to run away from it all as the best solution to their unhappy state of affairs. Instead of the tendency to pack up and go, we should inculcate a pick up the responsibility to stay and stake the right to help steer our God forsaken society to get back n track to civil rights and democratic justice.

That is to sit down and be rooted to our home country city-state. And be proud and dignified not to always kowtow to big brother be it the Peoples republic or the United states of “carry a big stick” of America, it is time, we small mega-cities of a globalised world in a global village, to stake a claim to the United Nations for a seat of sovereignty and stop that fearing old mother land so called big brother to stop that attitude and give us our deserved respect we being a small but well deserved respect for our own right to decide our independent destiny. Otherwise this sorry state of affairs where we are so easily tempted to pack up and go elsewhere may be a recurring solution for those finding our dreams being broken by the heavy handed rule of authoritarian tyrants who forget they should be ruling by law as civil servants and not high and mighty thrones of past empires.


Two sighs do not make a try. But I will say to ask for what we want and change step by step choosing our steps one at a time is crucial to evolving into that land of freedom and democracy we dream of but yet to fulfill. The way to go is not to remain silent but to speak and speak again when we can and however is possible. Even we get censored or blacked out by chance and a million times more it shall be real if we wish it to be. Running away is should be the last resort not first.

Longing for the Mountain retreat (with room service)

thought that things are getting better
how wrong
when the battle heats up to boil like broth
for dead chickens and screaming monkeys
the call to arms rang all day
in every ding dang dong dung
noisy purposelee wanto dig streets of singapure
buzy bobbee bochap for poetry only hot ok on moneeey
tell you no talking about demokrazee wait kena pantak kaya guyu then you jaga
go and art conference DaWu good ah know who is papa mama go back kampong
forget the long long mountain lah
how correct?

Just before heading for Hong Kong Art Basel I received the good news from Performance Studies International that I had been chosen to receive this year’s PSi Artist/Scholar/Activist Award 2014 to be presented in the next gathering of international performance studies afficionandos in Shanghai come July 4 to 8/2014 at the Shanghai Theatre Academy.
Unfortunately my tour de force with the good support of *Helina Chan, gallerist of vision and dare, and her wonderful staff of iPreciation Gallery, having presented one of the most favoured booths in this year’s busy and bustling Art Basel in Hong Kong, was scarred by a bizarre incident of being knocked out cold for a good 30 minutes during a quick leap to take a leak in the men’s room at the City University of Hong Kong after the end of forum on the theme of Art and Value, a subject that is of utmost import in my view that I had often wanted to address myself and had even proposed to speak at Art Basel Hong Kong concerning this subject matter. Well after all the big hoo haah i for want for peace of mind took a trip out to Belfast although my true destination should have been Cyprus instead.
However to cut a long story short I was not going to explain all and everything here but just to let me say one time that state of things todate, in short and quick sharp fashion.
1) I didn’t really know what was the cause of my blackout and I did not say for sure there was assault, although I did suspected it due to the many bumps on my head. Recently I asked some doctors while consulting them for other reasons. They all said it could have been or probably was due to my own low blood pressure that caused it. They all advised that men with low blood pressure have tendency to have the blood pressure lowering even further when they piss standing up. But what about the bumps in a row? It could be I was trying to get up and falling again and again.
2) I only said various things about the arrest of my friend in the song that I posted on the morning before i left my hotel room. But almost all the newspapers and news reported wrongly that I made the statements casting doubts on the legality of his arrest and suspect on the justice system of China at the forum itself. Whereas the only statements I said at the forum were made in general terms, just to ask if not acknowledge the fact that artists may sometimes make works more in tune with a change in our judgement of social values whereas outdated legal systems or laws of the past may till today be upheld in societies unwilling to update them in parallel with changes in our time and current human consciousness.
3) I did not bring my guitar to play at the art fair but was going to play in the evening at a friend’s pub. I made some indications of being stopped by my gallerist only in mischief as I thought she had been a little too concerned as if I was really going to play there when she saw me with instrument. (Sigh…I was just tired with others suspicions that are showing a mistrust in my ability to judge what is correct action)
4)The fact that I had no memory of anyone touching me or even assaulting me hence I should not even suspect it was a violent assault by any one at all, and now I accept the explanation from the doctors I spoke with.That it was a case of blacking out due to my low blood pressure and to be more careful and try to pee while sitting and try to avoid the standing urinals when traveling alone.
5) So I owe it to Cyprus that I tried too late to get a flight there and could only make it to Belfast which was not going to happen without the invitation to Cyprus. But well it was a rain check I had to cash since long time ago and it was goo surprise to even touch base with good old Andre Stitt unexpectedly he was at dinner the first evening I arrived. And to get to know Shiro’s mother was a bonus.

6) It meant I would not be able to go to Shanghai that I had wanted to but was fatigued to do so. Ray Langenbach made a speech in my place at the conference showing some video on my 24 hours buried to my waist in my back garden when I was living with my buddies in Seletar Army Camp on No.8 Oxford Street.

Nychthemer 2 Performance 24 hours X 2 duration November 8-9-1997 8 Oxford Street, Singapore

Nychthemer 2
Performance 24 hours X 2 duration
November 8-9-1997
8 Oxford Street, Singapore

Anyway I must say the twist of fate helped gave me much time and food for thought and reflection concerning my role as an artist in the somewhat orderly yet messy state of affairs in a rigid social engineered systematic development driven so called success story of dear dear Singapore.

For one thing the friends I come to value all showered their care for me not only by words but showed up in person with concern by dropping by to have eye to eye meetings and a good meal together that did fulfill a certainty of changing my attitude for neglecting the priority in food and sleep in my daily undertakings. At the same time I slowed down to the point of failure of what I promised and found that it would not kill me as much as my own physical need for food and rest would. But I begged to be given a chance to fulfill my promises with longer time frames and god alone knows a bigger budget would surely help.

Yes. But that I will describe in the next blog as i am need of a lay down at least some hours…

Shiro and his mother.

Shiro and his mother.

Catching Up Losing Faith

HUNG <hokkien

subtle enforce 强行>
hun han hang hung
That’s how they do o the threatening poses…
And whom do we blame?
Not me certainly
it is always the other’s fault
It is always the other who did wrong
But who should be forgiver
Not me either

“More China Than You”, Performatica’08, Four Artists From Singapore, 26cc, Rome, Italy, 2008

I had a brilliant simple plan of beginning not to stress my body and accepting my age in order to remain young. Taking the example of my friend’s nice 80 years old mother visiting in Belfast as inspiration while I was there. She lives in Yokohama in an elderly home for healthy grannies and pops. A well-endowed retired secretary to the director of a public institution in Tokyo, she visits her two sons of two different characters and to this day shower them with love and care visiting them in two different foreign countries every year. The secret of her health is simply to have good exercise, good food, a good regular routine of work and rest. Sleep early, she retires to her room at 9 or ten at latest each evening and rising at 6am daily. Even when in foreign countries, here in Belfast she diligently gives herself household chores of cleaning each morning and continues them when nothing else are planned.
She enjoys simple conversations and cleaning cooking all our meals even when i do not ask for them. Knowing my needs for regular sleep and meals i was grateful to her consistent care for no apparent reason other than i was there.
So after one week returning home each day i tell myself i must shift my rountines into this simple pattern of 6am rise and 10pm sleep alas to naught as each day new encounters of disruptive interventions planned, unplanned and due to the ties that bind seem to pull me deeper into negating a simple back to good health plan.
Letting things flow and letting it go, i am trying not to try too hard from now on. Was not the Tao supposed to flow by itself?

i want to live…

At 55 and beyond, i guess one is already playing the endgame of our life and have less reasons for failures, and by now should have enough clout for reason and rationale not to make impossible engagements beyond ones abilities nor useless demands but deal with care so as not to disappoint our own expectations at least if not those around us. But most of us go through life without self reflections nor assessments of our actions, our bodies and our social as well as physical and psychological environment. as regards the times and changes through experiences we encounter along the way.
We are creatures of habit and routine, even the adventures we seek fall into patterns of the known and orders of natural law if not designed by human powers that be new or renewal to be updated in keeping with changes of consciouness of the times.
Hence the spade of these recent rage between conflicting interests shaping cultural behaviors and our physical environments may seem like new manifestations but hark back to old habits of tensions between adherers for conservative restraints on the one hand and impetus for freedom and emancipation from formulaic traditions of time past advocating changes for newer adventures.
We need both if i may say and over my hippie dreams of love and peace and harmony you can sniggle and doubt my calm idealism to propose that revolution may only be one of belligerent manifestations of quarrels and squabbles, violent fights and bloody battles but can be one based on mutual respect and spare each other the right to live if not exists side by side tolerance of dignified right to be different.

And i do mean different in a wide range of possibilities.
I blame the conveniences of mass cultural production and consumption going on everywhere. Including mass media, TV, Internet, and fashion house propaganda…
we are mesmerized into sameness as norm so much that any deviance from the nor m is more often than not seen as an unnecessary array or seeds of inconveniences we do not want to see it proliferating too much. Or if seen as innovation we also prefer for it to remain less common in order for it to be of demand and retain a rareness that secures heightened value perhaps and gathers stature. However they are not expected as much and in social engineering terms better off hidden so only those of heightened inquisitiveness shall find them anyway.

Perhaps our recent barrage should not be such a surprise but like a timely surfacing of sorting our previously hidden layers of latent burbling hot air boiling just beneath the social fabric surface of the melting pot comprising global complexities explicitly manifested as conflicting values in cultural terms and indeed show a consistent need not just for our inevitable accumulated gross national debate to vet, verify and find acceptance an release.
If only we had more platforms for dialogues hence giving chances for forums as leading us and providing heated topics to be discussed in cool manageable debates and not angry fights.

Hopefully with peaceful mutual respect of differing perspectives, of diverse communities may still come live together and in protection, tolerated under one flag. One that in terms of coming of age reaching 50 necessarily have rule by law and if not also like a healthy mother shower love and protection to all, her children like flowers of varying diverse shapes and demands. Not all of us want some visibility of citadel heights but at least dignified positions unashamed for difference and not to be ostracised like an unwanted ill child in shame or disgrace. Instead all deservedly in their human place to play and live with pride not prejudiced nor discriminated against. We do have equal rights to share the walk and parade with joy, peace and harmony under bright sunshine as equal sojourners of the dream to be that small great social ambition as the brave new world and call to the rest of the world at large that ours is not just a day celebrating national independence but liken it as World Revolution Day. One not just in pink or red or brown or black or green or white but we could all be decked out in psychedelia of thousands of thousands of flowers blooming under the same sky as Allah and her 99 hundred names intended as we serve to believe and hold high with real intention and directed faith. The strength comes only with care to heal our sick ways.
“”Singapore in 2050” Tang Da Wu, Performance at National Art Gallery, Singapore 1988 / © Koh Nguang How caption]

Just Another Ghost Story

"Kill the Chickens, Frighten the Monkeys" (杀鸡 吓猴) ---Chinese idiom

“Kill the Chickens, Frighten the Monkeys”
(杀鸡 吓猴)
—Chinese idiom

My works are often in series and it seems most of them are not ended or in fact are “open ended”. As such circumstances arises subsequently that may be deemed necessary to revisit them and continue with them once again. I must say my recent episode in Hong Kong is so bizarre yet haunting me that I had to recall two, if not three past projects “Ghosts Stories” and “More China Than You”. And also “Stagger Lee”.

It was of the least expected that the success of participation at Hong Kong Art Bassel ended with such drama that involved the injury of my physical body. The effects were made visible and yet the cause of it was not entirely revealed. Not a trace even in terms of memory in my brain, that we have to conjecture it like a detective theorizing what happened and looking for clues.

I wish to say that some of the Facebook entries concerning my bizarre incident in Hong Kong by friends such as Nanxi Liu and Wen Yau were inaccurate, and even implicate that my gallery as being censorious. This is grossly wrong and I h. (truncated when uploading, unable to trace original) I may have indicated that I wanted to play my guitar and sing in the art fair of Art Basel Hong Kong but did not do so as I did not find it appropriate. I brought my guitar that day because I had plans to go to a pub in the evening to play in an artists’ hangout. On the contrary my gallerist was the one who wanted to help me to fulfill my potential to the fullest.
My friends Wen Yau and Nanxi may have heard me thinking aloud that I wanted to play and sing with my guitar at the Hong Kong Art Basel, but my gallerist did not liked the idea because it would be problematic as this is our first outing there and we did not notify to the management of HK Art Basel or seek their permission before. She had asked me before if I would like to I understood her and agreed 100% with her and did not wish to sing and play my songs at the fair while I was there/. There was a choice given to me to sing and play my songs there but I had already declined it myself before even going there. I was apprehensive about the audience there being to straight laced to dig my music cause the stuff I do is pretty raw and I was suspecting it will not go down well with the majority that go to the HK Art Basel.
Being an artist from Singapore I know full well of official permission requirements and respect, people who stood against such tight and strict regulations.

Although this is my first ever participation of actually exhibiting my works in an art fair I do have experiences of attending them in Singapore. As I am on the VIP list as an invited observer or in the art forums. Personally I found the atmosphere in Art fairs in Singapore much left to be desired in terms of audiences, suspecting in the majority were buying and selling merely as instruments of investment and where the question of “How much?” was the focus of discussions, rather than “Why? Or what was the motivation? Of any of awe or beauty came into discussion or ecstatically being moved by the works of art in display. I usually attend them just to keep in touch with my artist’s friends taking part in them. Having had 20 odd years taken part in various international events and I am often delighted to get a chance to see the foreign artists coming to Singapore in droves although just for a few days each time.
As for being beaten up or not, I have to admit, I don’t have any clue except that I went to the toilet of the City University of Hong Kong at around 6.30pm and had a lapse of nearly 30 minutes of unconsciousness. The first things I remembered was I had four or five not one but four bums on my head and my face was stained with blood. Looking around I could not find other clues except some smirches of bloodstains on the toilet floor, where I returned to consciousness between the open standing urinal to where the mirror, faucet and sink was. The point is even if I had been attacked, it would have been done under such irrational thinking that makes me angry inside but in my quiet moments one feels sorrow more than anything. That such is the ways of the powers that be, that the innocent multitude is still under the rule and jurisdiction of a social system that is intolerant of criticisms. Added to that when what I have expressed are conjectures with no solid evidence. One way is to look at it as just another Ghost story…

Note: On hindsight and after consulting my doctors, I now realise that my blackout was due to my own medical condition of having low blood pressure. The thing that still bugs me is how all the news print media had wrong details that I had said things at the forum which were quoted from my soundcloud upload instead. This gave such an impact that people at the forum start to believe they heard me saying it at the forum. It makes me wonder how truth may be distorted not only by inacurrate reports but also fictionalized further by inattentive witnesses who are easily convinced by erroneous journalism than their own cognitive experiences.
Longing for the Mountain retreat (with room service)


Forget tragedy…Laugh and be Angry!

Internal security police of China has a reputation for being dumb to poetry and blind to art …the only thing they are good at is catching rabbits with their bare hands. I went to a good school and my schoolmates are in all kinds of professions. One close friend unfortunately joined the secret police but cannot reveal his name. He was telling me that artists are not that different from Police as there are meetings where international secret police meet in camps or conferences to discuss and exchange just like artists do in festivals, biennale and camps. The only difference is theirs are heldin secret while artists ones tend to seek publicity and media coverage.

Once this friend of mine gave a story that came to prove my opinion is true. There was a multilateral secret policeman meeting and they had an intensive 30 days workshop in the Chinese countryside getaway camp outside seventh ring north of Beijing. On weekends they were allowed free time to relax and the first 3 weekends they all foolishly were squandered the time playing mahjong. On the last weekend the guys sharing the same cabin as my friend decided to have a lighthearted time having a BBQ and just chill in the quiet natural environment. Then the Japanese guy suggested “Hey I think there are rabbits in the jungle surrounding us. I challenge you to catch a single rabbit with bare hands and the one who does it in the shortest time shall have the honor of winning and gets the chance to fuck the other policemen in the backside. The other policemen one from U.S one from mainland China and my friend from Singapore at first laughed and did not take it seriously as they were all macho guys who often say bad things about homosexual as being weak and sissies. But since their macho libido was kind of itching for some sex they slowly shifted into taking the suggestion seriously.

As usual the American guy volunteered to go into the action first and dived into the jungle before anyone could say yes. 5 hours later he came out with a rabbit still half alive while he held its long ears with 2 shaking hands, sweating like a pig and groaning “hey here you are not bad huh?” confident that none can do any better. My Singapore friend went in next and being “kiasu” (Singlsh literal translation: “afraid to lose”) he actually cheated and did it with a trap but don’t tell anyone. He came out 3 hours later and tore his shirt himself and had a swim in the lake and pretending to be huffing nearly out breath holding the rabbit he caught in smooth hands and swinging the rabbit by its tail said with cheeky lying eyes that this is probably the last rabbit before sun set. The Japanese guy gave a bow and some ritualistic actions like that in the beginning of a sumo-wrestling match. In two hours he came out like a ninja somersaults to throw the still breathing rabbit with a shout like the karate guys do when they chopped breaks with their bare hands. Last guy was the policeman from China.

All 3 were suggesting the guy should continue tomorrow morning but he shook his head and grinned with diabolical grunts as he confidently swaggered in the nearly dark evening glow. In less than 5 minutes they heard screams and shouts and the sounds of punches so hard as if there was some one being tortured, Next thing the three could not believe their eyes out of the jungle a bear as tall as a man ran out with blood streaming over his face and all over his whole body almost as if it were wearing a wet red dress and screaming “OKI OK stop hitting me I ADMIT I AM A RABBIT”, as the secret policeman came out grinning rubbing his groin and getting ready to have his fun….

But seriously folks should we get a pettition to the United Nations if not let us all boycot China !!!

This no time to celebrate the genius of China as tragedy! No time to be sad but time to get ANGRY!!!

Art is Art, Life is Life

Before i forget the punchline i got to tell you
next time i see you…

This morning i woke in laughter, it felt like deja vu but actually it was my hunger for life. I rearranged my schedule and put it this way
1. Sweep the floor
2. Eat breakfast
3. plan for the day
4. go see mom
5. start working not at the computer but out there please!!


Will the New NMP make a difference? Yes NO Maybe OK lah


The NMP scheme is one of many painful reminders of what’s right and wrong with this country.*

The foundations of democratic processes earlier on after being born had learn to consolidate the small population of diversities into a united stronghold that was able to seized power from the imperial colonizers relegation. Despite various impervious sins of give and take, the one party rule learnt with each succeeding round of victory, how to keep tipping the battleground in ways that perpetuate the initial capture by fairly democratic processes that keeps the opposition at bay from their possibility to grow into a better credible force of contention and critically expose any threat of corruption that tempts any growing centralization of power.

Within any society regardless how good beginning intentions could have been, History repetitively taught us how the concentration of power, intensified unchecked especially within smaller countries, despite all claims of self-sacrificial intentions added with pragmatic wisdom are in danger of tipping itself into dictatorship. It is expedient we give it enough pressure to remember and remind ourselves and especially the elected parliamentary members of their role as servants of civil society and not authoritarian rulers. Our unique demographics had contributed factors that helped support the invention of the NMP expediency. It is a clever invention based on relevant responses to the unique dynamics of small nations of advantageous qualities. However these inventions may contribute to the semblance of the democracy that is sick and in need of real solutions in order to upkeep our constitutional intentions and forget that the scheme is and should remain a temporary replacement for the missing voices that should be speaking and be heard in a real working parliament.

Suspicion grows if the NMP measure is perpetuated permanent solution since looking seriously for real cure may then mean the need for measures that actually lead us towards a healthier stronger opposition than the NMP who are fall guys that have ability to play and make peace with this sick society into acceptance of illness as curing ourselves recedes into insignificance and complacent inaction and ugly selfish pride of mistaking a prison as a paradise, a dysfunctional democracy as a utopian republic of happy yet helpless citizens, forgoing participation in choice less electorates become liberal zombies of futility.

But to discern its flaw as we must do still necessitate a responsible decision of choice to make in order to keep the democracy meaningful unless we give up into abstention and allow the sickness to continue into decay and deteriorating into its impending rotten stench that some claim already begun. The rotten decay shall only bait if not feed the advancing tyranny into the fearfully transformation into the complete totalitarian destined for our deserved decline and self-destruction if we falter to redressing the search for a healthy recovery in earnest.

We should be thankful to Audrey Wong and to Janice Koh for taking time and commitment to directly filling the roles. Your efforts have given the artists in this society that continuation of keeping the faith in the evolution of a social system that often neglects humble needs of our human potentials in place for the ambitions for greatness  and empire proclaimed by its technocratic leadership. Forgetting how the good society we live inl remain a vacuum that desperately pretends of empire excellence with investment into shining infrastructures that cripples our parched desert island souls. Thank you for your attempt to voice out the lack in the vision of pragmatic leadership, in desperation of maintaining cultural actions in a spartan stunted nation yet to believe in herself as a people and least of all lacking the trust and belief that art has a role to see us through the contemporary crises. For ours is an age of shifting changes that is learning to allow the blossoming of individualism. Your voices are important calls that must continue in order to allow spaces to manifest with autonomy in order to keep away from the dangerous grip of bureaucratic censors and other policemen.

The NMP must remain in suspicion, yet let us take a while to reconsider and not hasten into rejection so quickly.

Yes I fully agree to the fact that the only route into Parliament should be through the people, and not a committee. Parliament itself is the committee of most high importance in a working democracy. The need for the NMP acknowledges the failure of the democratic election in securing a parliament with ability to voice the multi-diversities and hence is required to ensure and upkeep the ideals of our constitution. At the same time to speak in defiance the arrogance of dogmatic capital in the service of selfish politicians, forgetting how the republic began with themselves as servants instead risks the emergence of yet another aspiring to become yet another emperor wearing the latest new clothes of power and corruption.



“More China Than You”, Performatica’08, Four Artists From Singapore, 26cc, Rome, Italy, July 2008

A Song for a northern home from a southern man

SONG 2lwennowhere
Good feelings comes from friends even when the weather be damned
Even when work is not done and our flowers become guns
those old negs never change blocking my blue sky open mind
dragging my vibes down with what cannot be done should not be sung
another tax load oh! sack my skinned obligations to sweet blind time to wine

Wine like a windy woman dancing indisco-veri-diced so I am sure and POST sure if not
the idiocy in amatuer interest in the moon light with the strings so swing
ah yes damn health care is so well subsudies -traditional math rock rhythyme and soul
or zeros to infinity there is still so much more that we shall be discovering

in vest




Old Shoes

Old Shoes

Dead Art Daydream Action #55

School Of Hard Knocks
Knock Knock Softly Softly

Each generation finds the previous inadequate in deed having seemingly to inherit a world that seem to be better than theirs and yet a harder future. While the next generation seem often lacking in experience and yet reluctant to go out and get them.They are the generation of the current times, the contemporary the now and ever if only they continue to make themselves relevant, by the choices they make. Other wise they go to that of passé if not the possible heirs apparent. But one thing if we only know how much technology and intensity of change have confused our perception of scale, priorities and worse than what anyone is able to discern from the beginning, that which is true and that not. It all comes to the one begging question that we oh so typically fail in order to assert ourselves as “homo sapiens”, man the wise one, to dream the impossible dream.

I see it clearly how the technology and the rapid change confuses us into losing the quest the test the zest into the doldrums of inui futility existential fuddy duddy biddy complainants of discontent ever hung up on the virtual world of the internet. We are more and more hung up with it as we hug it to sleep in our lonely world of make virtual belief. Everyday we spend more time with this soft virtual world more and more that we do not have enough time to relate with the real bodies in the hard knocking world. That is not true outside it is raining inside it is a sunny day

And therefore the suspicion is not only do we suffer from the aberration of the economies of scale but also I believe in terms of time, numbers as well as quality if not ethics.

Once upon a time we used to say that is how we learn in the deal by get knocked down, knocked up and side ways the wrong way inside out until we get it right and we call that the University of Hard Knocks. But what I see and hear ain’t no hard knocks going on with the soft generation, nay instead we have how one of my friends with Sharun gave us the Stagger LEE /intelligent joke.
Stagger Lee Many-Pull-Leg Zhao Ah Leng, Part 2
So now Ah leng zhao ah leng beng bo hor si hah humbled and learned why he should take his IMG_20130815_060137place and feel happy go lucky that he is working for someone so intelligent and generous like Stagger Lee. I continue my own game of shooting pools and sent Ah leng on his way to collcct the monthly loan and go get sold to the devil for what’s it’s worth. He jumped on his motor and scooted off to Toa Kow who already hear the news since the last time Ah beng leng been big sound little sound cry father cry mother been complaining about working do all the dirty work for Stagger Lee. So the minute he saw ah beng leng coming down the kampong road at the side all the fish farm ponds, very hot no trees no houses no walls also. Toa Kow waved and stopped on the middle of the road and asked excitedly ho bo ?! i heard you go to ask Stagger lee why he boss all of all the members ah what you very big guts dare to ask ah how hah? what did he say ? how come he can Many-pull leg zhao ah leng huh? ah leng did not bother to hear the rest and waved his hand over his face again and again like fanning himself without a fan. “Don’t talk too much just pay me what you owe other wise will break every bone in you !!”
Toa Kow tried to stall him again “alamak i waiting so long to hear your story until cannot eat cannot sleep cannot even play my short hand gun…let’s hear it first lah?”
“Aiyah nothing lah he got intelligent we do not have so good intelligence like staggerlee lor!”
Toa Kow asked “what ? what man ? what’s that? intelligence_?”
“ohhh? you don’t know? OK i show you…what you dunno ? just hit my palm as hard as you can! and..
Ah leng looked around and found there was no wall to be found anywhere near since they are on this village muddy path surrounded by fish ponds farm…he put his palm over his own face “Hit my palm as hard as you can….”

Dead Art Daydream Action #22

Or how to continue to live when all around are dead?

I’m the creep who dwell in deja vu of the damned
the prophet of doom who sweeps clean with the broom
unseen detritus refined superior kinds turned a blind eye

believing they’ll just go away when left alone long enough

Last year I was going through a period of self-doubt whereby I did a series of works under the title of “Diary of A Dead Artist”.  By the end of it I felt psychologically stronger in accepting the changes around me. The people are growing in dissatisfaction due to higher expectations and the pressure of achieving success made it harder to get help for work in the useless project of art. It is not just about the time constrain due to too much work but since I had gotten ill with Parkinson’s Disease I needed help per se in terms of physical muscles to do some physical work using the physical body. The irony of it all is my imagination and dreams not only got so real as I found out that I tend to blame my self often and we all have guilt but should not reject these feelings without reviewing them. It is for those who do not wish to meet them in good time that we find them to be dying if not already dead.
At a time when I was perhaps 6 or seven years old I finally figured out that my dad who died when I was barely four would never return. On understanding about the difference between life and death, I had a terrible nightmare where I dreamt that everybody else around me was dead. I was walking or stumbling over miles and miles of piles upon piles of dead bodies. I was not sure how long but I remember to this day I had woken up wailing in tears, that woke the whole family. They all knew I had a nightmare but did not know what it was because I could not say a word out of completely drenched in cold sweat of sorrow. It felt like holocaust and I was too young to even knew about the world wars, but later when I learnt about the world wars I always envisioned them liken to the nightmare I had then. I went back to sleep on that tear drenched pillow but always remembered that as the day I gain knowledge of the differentiation between life and death as good as day and night.

The heavy inclination of market capitalism has bullied us all into submission so much that our ideals and completely eroded to the point of empty values except for consumerism and materialism. I do not pretend to be beyond the need to participate in the accumulation of money and wages for my work done as I too have bills to pay but I must be on guard that I am not completely eroded of my motivation for higher claims of what poetry and idealism is that keeps me alive beyond that of the differences between beasts and humans. Soul and dough do not make good bedfellows non the less they are not incompatible to have in correct perspective and balanced in terms of priorities.

To top all of these is we all live in the yellow supreme wing ding system that sometimes we don’t even know what we are saying and doing no more but  expect everybody to listen to us. Why? Just because of the shoes we standing in? The best thing about it is that after all that happened in our history, we still have no trust in art and artist…so anyway it maybe better to be gungstar…

Stagger Lee Many-Pull-Leg Zhao Ah Leng, Part 1

you know me, i’m stagger lee so dun mess around with me in fact i dun carry no gun but i can kill just for fun, ain’t much but at least i can still see the sun, cause i learnt long ago you can’t trust no one…it was wednesday and 2 of my buddies we hung out together drink beer and shoot pool just to stay cool and one of my fun dub gunster kaki got angry just cux i was having too much fung. his name ah leng but we call him zhao leng cuase he think he got dragon so what a gunsta is a gunsta so doubt is his own problem and zhao leng accuse me of cheating shooting pools and looking cool and not only boy he start calling me names but he complaint to ah boy, “hey age dun mean nothing here ok why we alweys have to listen to stagger lee bo kaki si bo? he alwwey no need do enuf work and we all do for him never mind some more alway play cheer cheat in pools try to look cool some more ha? enuff is enuff ok!” Ah boy no quarrel with me hen or cock he know where i am and where is the limit with me aah… “you ask me i ask who ah? you go and direct ask in his face lo!!! dun waste your saliva on me la”… soo mr zhao beng leng eyes never open come and throw anger red and sour on me ah in front my baby and boob cry father cry mother some more never mind ask me stupid question some more…2″%%$#”(!”#$&&'(==`”#%!!! tell me why why you everytime many-pull-brake alway people like me and ah boy, why you alway come boss us and we be your small thug ha? i feek for him one time two timw can but this time too much…usually i keep quiet but i baytahan say “you dunno i have intelligence … you dono nothing thats why” whalau wei this make him vere very very hot!!! red chilli padi also not oh so hot law!! “what you mean ?/???” “you dunno? of course not because you got no intelligence no brain ma!!” Wah lau eh really his blood boil now” Ah leng zhao ah leng beng bo hor si lah all hot anger and boiling shouted to me “what you got i don’ got meh? show me where is your intelligence?” scream challenge i put my palm spread on the sidewalk wall and ask ah zhao beng leng “here” pointing to the center of my right palm spread against the wall, “give you punch if you can? as hard as you like!!” so thinking its his chance to get back at me for manypulleg him so he took one two step back breathed deeply and tried to punch so hard at my palm on the wall. i pulled back my palm just in time so he hit the wall !!!! hahaha!! i laughed and staggered all tbe way to shenton way as always say laughed and laughed until cry shaking my head i saying hahaha that is intelligente !!! hahaha!!!

end of part one1796992_10151928522747957_1201180194_o
Something else later/….
part two will resume shortly….

Dead Art Daydream Action No.1

I am license
…Or why I think licensing performance art is not necessary.1384143_10151750351011989_386293260_n

I made 2014 New Year Resolution that I will not present performance art in Singapore under the compulsory need to apply for a license.

2014 is 20 years after the event of Artists General Assembly (A.G.A.). An event held at “5th Passage”, the artists’ run space in Parkway Parade Office block’s fifth storey between the lift lobby leading through a concourse both that opens out towards an adjacent spiral car-park building. The event was organized by artists from the collectives, 5th Passage and The Artists Village. Taking the inspiration of the 24 hours TIME show that was held on new year’s event of 31 January 1989 to 1 January 1990, at the original site of Lorong Gambas, the A.G.A. expanded the idea to that of an eight days event inviting contemporary artists who were embarking on cutting edge or contemporary practices in art making within the Singapore context to convene in exhibition, exchange and dialogue. The event was held together with self-motivated artists and responsible anarchy where we pitched together each other’s ability and when the sun rose on 1 January 1994 to the sounds of the trio, “Non-Sex”, led by under-rated musician Azmi Hassan that played their own take on “Shine on you crazy diamond”, it felt like the finale to a week long initiation rites to the Brave World we were all helping to create.

AGA brochureBut we had a shock of our lives when we got news of how the event was brought to attention on the front page of the tabloid which completely threw all our good intentions into that of suspicion and almost stereotyping our lot as rebellious enemy of the people. The  pandemonium added on as our inexperience at dealing with the media that seems to checked all our efforts to correct the negative image with slanted quotes and added to the confusion of artists as divided self-promoting individual egos. The recent exhibition of “Ghost: The Body At The Turn Of The Century” at the Sculpture Square curated by the courage and vision of it’s new director Alan Oei held at the end of last year, gave a plethora of the darker side of Singapore’s claim to fame as art centre of note this side of the Global Village. Amongst the stories most likely to be swept under any red carpets of shining Singapore Paradiso or the official utopian image of most propaganda media do is the work of the artist Loo Zihan. Loo changed his trajectory as a narrative documentary film maker into performance art, whose research for his Masters program at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago in 2011  gave us the re-enactment of the infamous “Brother Cane”. As a follow up he presented ‘Artists’ General Assembly – The Langenbach Archive’ a comprehensive survey of the archive material from the said event of 1993-1994 that allows us to look back with care again and it gave us much food for thought. A small group of us gathered at its closing on 31 December 2013. I came away with mixed feelings, asking myself a bunch of questions that still left to be desired.

There are many things beyond one’s control, and although you and i may know the facts are plain as the light of day yet sometimes  we would still find it hard to say.  For my love to speak truths for the people, for this society is as pure as I may claim to be as Wahab’s honey and yet when offered them forth it still surely to find some tongues tasting them like the bitterest poison as if they were verses from hell. Thus i  find myself going over my quandary and setting them apart to two or three sets.

1) Questions I can make a decision now and carry them forth as that is my insignia for the battle of the present state of affairs, the ground for my negotiation, and to invite my friends to ride with me. Full battle speed, like Andre Stitt say: “Either you are on the bus or you are off”, i welcome all passengers, young and old, short term or long term, even my enemies! But “don’t stand in the doorway, don’t block up the hall…”

To make the resolution I considered for ten years. In the first place I did agree to it for a good ten years, at least since we did go into it with our eyes wide open when the proscription on the funding of performance art was lifted in 2003.

It had been ten years after it was first implemented by the National Arts Council. With Tommy Koh as the Chairman, that had cast a dark shadow on performance art. It resulted in it becoming almost forever spoken here like a dirty word or in the same breath as any other inexplicable actions most of them of derogatory leanings arousing adjectives veering towards wrong doing, trouble maker, stupidity and non-sensical rather than the possibility of poetry and philosophy.

In fact, the question of having gone ahead with accepting the requirements of grantees to play according to the rules of the game was asked to me by one of the speakers in our very own public forum during Future Of Imagination 2, held at the Sculpture Square.
My contention was that: after weighing the pros and cons, I still think that there were pros that far outweighs the cons.
Furthermore, we had been knocking on the doors of the arts council for the past ten years, since the traumatic aftermath of A.G.A. in 1994. Now that they open the door I must enter although it may not be comfortable.

But I had from the beginning sounded out the problematic list of do’s and don’ts on the licenses and have said so before. As with my first performance in the first “Future Of Imagination” series of international performance art event that I had initiated and organized, I had the license conditions read out loud while I made my actions.
If anyone had taken notes they would have immediately find many of them have been broken by me already, although they may not be breaking other more serious laws per se.
Here my contention was and still is, that if that were the case, then the only need for us organizers and artists to do is that to observe the law; and not necessarily a whole bunch of other regulations that are too indicative of impossible controls that can only hamper our freedom to create, without over looking our shoulders every step in fear of being an offender ever before doing a thing. As a performance artist, I find myself stumped in my flow of imagination every time I stop to consider its legality. And worse still to host international platform of ‘world class artists’ embarrassingly I apologetically ask them to forgive my shameful country whenever I invited them. For my only wish is to show their works of purest creation. To ask me to continue after ten years of tolerating such humiliation can only mean I am willingly agreeing to partake in the Republic’s hemlock laced cup of poison offered to Socrates but here seen as due procedural necessity of civil decorum.

2) Questions that for the moment we leave them on the shelf but we must not forget they are there. The road to freedom and justice is a long road. We may not yet arrive at victory in our life time, but so long as we keep asking them and not let the cobwebs of greed and selfishness cover them up into oblivion, our cause is not yet lost although we may have conceded the battle. To me grand failures do not count. They only count if they are important to be in the memory shelves to be fought again when the time is right otherwise throw them out. For they only collect dusts and that is just decorative masks, not the real face that will last.

Looking at the evidence, as far as licensing goes, the A.G.A. event was licensed too and it did not prevent this to happen because none of us knew then that any law would be broken. To me even when looking back at Josef Ng’s performance, there was no crime discernible. There was nothing either intended nor actually could be seen or unmistakably discerned by anyone who saw the live performance, or even the video documentation.

As I understand from readings the justice system is implemented to protect the citizen’s rights and I am just by asking questions hereby asking for these rights to be secured for me as an artist who practices art and just as any other individuals who swears allegiance to the flag and the nation.
From discussions with many including artists and organizers involved in the event what transpired seemed to be showing us a different understanding that perhaps there were other considerations that led to it’s eventual notoriety, or even ‘clamming down’.
1) there was the internal security question of performance art being a possible threat to public order.
2) there was a need to slam down hard as the performance not only questions the news reportage of the punishment on gay behavior but also seem to advocate protest.
3) it was to keep at bey the propagation and proliferation of homosexual behaviour in Singapore.

Being a patriot schooled and imbued with the Rafflesian spirit, even though I call myself a born again hippie, I like to think that all these are mistaken conjectures that arose merely because those of us who are concerned citizens have looked closely at the evidence if not even seen the actual performance itself and cannot see any evidence in the presentation to have anywhere come close to something we categorically call pornography or an obscene action not even one that is erotic in a artistic way. The only close to fault if any, was that of the words being said by the artist himself to the effect that he was going to cut his pubic hair and after which it was done without any direct revelation of such an action. The artist then went to stand facing a far end wall from the space where the majority of the audience was. He showed a little of his buttock as he lowered them apparently to cut the pubic hair. He then turned around to walk back up towards the audience and put some of the hair down on the floor over some tofu. Then nervously looked around randomly and asked for a cigarette, as he probably was looking for a way to end the ritual. After a few puffs, in the silent tension he put the burning cigarette out on the square of his left shoulder saying the words: “Perhaps a silent protest is not enough.”

Clearly such actions all have nothing obscene about it and  would even add that even IF the artist had cut his pubic hair in full frontal view I would still not find any of these sequences of actions anywhere close to obscene or pornographic actions. However what some have explained to me is that the law says the act of cutting pubic hair is obscene in itself hence it is not necessarily have to be seen.
However should we not reconsider some changes after all if really the law on obscenity was supposedly meant to protect public decency and by all means some of us find it obscene by just thinking of it. But I believe ours is to be a sophisticated society that should be serving us all and not only those of lesser tolerance to actions deemed less commonly seen as normal. Especially when performance art is now accepted officially and the fact that it could be re-enacted by Loo Zihan in a theater ticketed event all the more added more reasons for us to review and to recast it again.
Otherwise I shall remain an artist of shame for I carry in my heart an allegiance I had pledged to a society that I believed in the possibility of a system of justice that protects us all. That includes creative thinking individuals who speak up for the suffering of others in poetic actions, in provocative actions that may include the unusual use of the body, situations in public interactions or agitate in purposeful confrontations but still allowing, nay, in fact demanding each and all in the audience to decide with responsibility what is the correct course of action, but in fairness let the artist be free.  What Josef Ng did in 1994 was indeed just that. He courageously spoke up for the suffering of others by innovative re-inventing the new language of performance art with sensitive responses to local contexts. We punished him, and also the artist Iris Tan, who merely took the blame as she was handling the admin work. The way I see it today, I am equally responsible and I am equally guilty for their crimes if at all any crime was committed. I am proud of Josef Ng for what he gave us and Iris Tan who suffered humbly, quietly, a duty-bound giving us her name and time as a service to art and artists, forgoing her own chance to also be directly practicing as one. (I know Iris well, she was glad to contribute her hair to my A.G.A. cupboard installation but I remember hearing her talk to us working on our installation where I could detect a subtle envy beneath her humorous words of encouragement and praises to our work. She sacrificed her own artistic inclinations cause somebody needs to do the paper work and she got charged and found guilty for it and no one even bothered to call her after)

And no I don’t blame the government. I don’t blame the P.A.P. and don’t mention my mother but I blame my country. Yes I am still ashamed of my country. And this country includes you and me. A country who put good art and artists on trial and make them criminals. And now after 20 years say let’s move on!, the world has changed.

Not yet changed as it should if you ask me!!
But it should.

AGA Opening

Joy of Living

2014 New Year Resolution:
I will not present performance art in Singapore under the compulsory need to apply for a license.

Look for me in the sunrise
while I sing to the sun set in the east
I wish you good morning while I lay down to sleep
this dream of life has no chance for peace
baggage to rid and yet cravings to keep
with these weary bones I hobble
its my form to function as a creep
To catch your dreams to fill my hollow.

– “Joy of Living”

September of year 2013, I was invited to Saitama  for a residency in an initiative that is run as a non-profit organization called “Contemporary Art of Japan”. As I was riding on the bus from the airport into Saitama I reminisced to when I first stepped on Japanese shore was in 1994 in Fukuoka where I was invited to participate in the 4th Asian Art Show. So it has been nearly 20 years now.  I ran over the past years and back again several times in my mind and tried to figure out what I had been doing in this life.  Images and nuances of a dream that felt like a lifetime or a book? But maybe just another song, an anyhow blues song. or a fairy tale perhaps…not one but a myraid of fairy tales of different origins,  that overlap and become difficult to decipher which is which and told by whom, but all have some facet of truth in it, not only facets but actually these days i find it fascinating to look again at the complex life that our mixed up world seem to be entangled into an hopelessly immaculate Gordian knot.
IMG_0175         And yet each and every one of our lives may only be lived at once as an individual one.  After all we may also find that the only way to approach and enjoy this chaotic confusion we call life, is by savouring each and every passing moment that adds up into the minutes, hours and days that we inevitably need to fulfill with enough work and rest, that make up the 24 hours of one day at a time. These days that passes as the sun rises and sets will come to add up into 365 and a one quarter come what may, totalling up to make a year. And as the years passes with the revolution of the earth circulating round the sun one full circle each year one’s life when lived in conscious effort at making a direction of changes for the human revolution may be seen as snippets of fairy tales that when told perhaps by the learned ones we call academics and historians end up as history and milestones of changes sometimes joyous as they liberate our human condition whereas sometimes may be painful and tragic as they perpetuate the suffering of the weak and enslaved to the dictates of powerful and selfish despots and tyrants.newMoon
There’s a new moon in the dark sky
Like a yellow boat I long to ride
Across the milky ocean like the sailing gypsies
Roaming homes in kingdoms of one man islands
Outside the self-doubt of a velvet prison
free from Gordian tangled knots of accursed shares
Drifting like the weightless clouds
Above and away from the tear-stained bleeding heart snares
I maybe a romantic but I find my role as an artist coincides with that as an agent for revolutionary changes, without any need to partake in other activism but to act and be motivated as an artist carefully considered line of actions at crucial pacing with other moments of social change, responding to the daily occurrences of current state of affairs, is enough work. In fact a hell of a task in the complexities of today’s world as such that to take on other intentions of activism will shore me on the other side of life ie on that of hades.  Everyday is a struggle as I find the strains of individualism an extremity that make us lonelier souls, less we understand where we stand and not be confused by the need to make conscious efforts to keep abreast with the external changes of the social structures, the technological inventions, the resulting variable distances of personal contacts upon engagements continued with impersonal methods of communications. We may easily jeopardise all the advances of secured freedom over decades and creeping years of gradual emancipation as our preceding generations with gaining consciousness realized the need to break from old entanglements of power relations based on religion, political and other ideological constrains necessitated by the human need of unity to function as a social group; a society that was held together by old power structures be it law, government and capital or economy that distributes the energy that supports life of earth find the increasing demands of free individuals a threat to maintain itself as a strong fabric in one piece if the freedom of individuals actions and inabillity to advance cultural work for gradual liberalization but instead lead to further fragmentation.
More often than not it is to learn to speak to each other with greater trust and belief the other is genuine to the cause of indeed redemption for all. If we seek out any tyrant or dictator and interviewed or questioned them for sure they will tell you that they are trying to help society and what ever you may deemed to be atrocious evil crime against the people were actions implemented for the good of society and humanity at large. As for artists as individuals with our varied histories, cultural, linguistics and personal backgrounds permuted further with difference of intelligence and characteristics not to forget sexual orientations and other human inclinations that may also be too extremely alienating and deviating from the norm. And that includes fanaticism for holding on to outdated rules and regulations or even religious beliefs if you ask me as after all not everyone in this age of post-post-modernity are able to deal with the freedom that is there for us to manifest even while living in restricted social structures. If we knew what we want we will find out how to get it. Whatever prison one is incarcerated in with proper understanding the walls of the social prison may be not that impossible to break out from. However most of us do not know what to do once we are outside and  possibly enough to drown the unprepared, and those who only recently encountered differences of self-transcendence that our age of philosophical inquiry has attained via the new sciences such as psychology and sociology that built on the ancient religions and other knowledge of cross references and multi-disciplinary studies.
Those who claim to adhere to systems of control for the sake of peaceful coexistence often forget  to include the consultation with those who are already walking the streets daily free from these shackles but expect them who are already free to continue to wear those shackles when they enter the common social spaces and arena or places of common human rituals that are over-lapping and lagging behind in out-moded anachronistic structures that no one cares to review and update. After all they may still be usefully manipulated to serve the powers that be in the guise of justice yet serving other purposes of maintaining conservative demeanours of conformity.
One may of course in the beginning take it calmly as humane kindness tend to accept the mistaken notions of strangers in order to befriend them and with familiarity we begin to let them know that our participation in such behaviour actually insults our dignity and we would like to be excuse from them and if only the other could learn to tolerate our differences, if not even participate and enjoy our lives together in freedom.
So in our history we had been cowered into asking permission by license and submissively provide details of the intended manifestation of a genre of art that encourages spontaneous improvisations, inspired moments of fresh creative presentations based on impulses, that sometimes arises by way in reaction based on the unexpected gestures and responses in live audiences’ interactions. As an experienced organiser I must admit that the liability to break the law in holding a license with that long list of restrictions far outweigh that of maintaining propriety.


Schrag Carl. O. – The Self after Postmodernity, Yale University Press, 1997.

Young Alison,  – Judging  the image: Art, Art, Value, Law (Transformations) Routledge, 1995.


Look for me in the sunset
rising out from an old bag looking for a mended vest
Try to have another good time, another chance for another test
I’ll match your youthful verve your joy of living
All your rigging and stone throwing babel
To keep up the petition against all them sanctions
Time to get off and re-assemble
Before they stop us at the twelfth station

I’m not the one who you hated me for
In forgetting what was only kills knowledge learnt
to return to review to react to remember
Dear friends and loved ones still dwelling in déjà vu
The dancing years passed so fast if only we knew
How suddenly we’ve became old
those were the days my friend
When real was real and time stood still
When real was real and time stood still …..and never end


Night & Day and back again

Night and day you are the one
only you beneath the moon or under the sun
wheather near to me or far it’s no matter darling
where you are
I think of you
day and night, night and day
why is it so that this longing for you
follows where ever I go
in the roaring traffics boom, in the silence of my lonely room
I think of you
night and day, day and night
under the hyde of me , theres an oh such a hungry yearning
inside of me
and this torment wont be through
till you let me spend my life making love to you
day and night, night and day

– Cole Porter, 1932

I just returned from a bittersweet experience tonight, THE LAST GIG @ Night and Day Bar…that oh so much reminded me of another.

The year 1990 was a bitter sweet one as March The Artists Village were just evicted from the original kampong in Lorong Gambas and Tang Da Wu had relocated in Queens Avenue, rented three large bungalow black an white houses rental costs was S$2,000 each per month. Tang hoping to reactivate together to build a space for artists in communal spaces of a village in natural environment was forced to move to Queens Avenue and paying the rental costs of total S$6,000 per month for 3 large black and white bugalows which Tang took down the fences that divided them. Today in 2013 $6,000 can hardly be enough monthly rental for one of those houses if you are lucky. And dear Kelley is closing Night & Day in Selegie…

We took days even weeks to move as Tang was a man of strong resolution and resilience and as I helped with lorry loads filled with even broken chairs and tables. They were things we could repair like taking broken dreams in belief we shall put them back up again. Twice mind you. At first under-estimating the things we had in a kampong could easily fill up 3 walk up apartments in Sembawang, Da Wu in less than a week reluctantly moved again to the 3 houses in Queens Avenue. The Catch 22 was that these were not venues for public exhibition or events as the premises in Queens Avenue were classified for residential use only. I took up a room in one of the houses and we operated from there to participate in the Singapore Arts Festival making installations in shopping malls and pedestrian walks along Orchard Road, Raffles Square, Raffles City and Fort Canning Park.

We were shown various locations as possible sponsored spaces but all came to nought as we were not registered entity. I left Singapore in December to participate a sculpture symposium at Portland Sculpture Trust in Dorset through the invitation of Hannah Sofaer, one of the trustees. Hannah Sofaer was participating in the Singapore Art Festival 1990 by way of Tang Da Wu’s recommendations. Together with Hiroshi Mikami, they were one of the first foreign artists in residence at Quens Avenue or if not even Singapore. As I was also staying in the third house that Da Wu rented my daily casual talks with them unknowingly were my tutorials and my learning expanded without even the idea of receiving an education.

Hannah taught me the possibility of nature as a refreshing earth studio and the shade of a tree as working spaces. And not to worry if we do not have craftsmanship or technical skills as actions of daily life may have gone unnoticed easily unless one took up the ritual of spending time working with them and putting our hearts and soul to it. She dug the earth and made turtles gather under the spreading canopy of the biggest rain tree she could find in the open lawns of Fort Canning Park. The strings of brightly coloured ribbons strategically hung from the branches looked like rains of rainbows that the turtles seemed to be congregating and slowly walked towards the trunk in order to…? Drink the rainbow rain perhaps or climb the rain tree to the source of the rain? My bet was that the rain had produced the mounds swelling up from rainbow rain drops transforming the mounds into live turtles when given the magic hour and the touch of an open heart of imagination,

Hiroshi Mikami carried a small backpack wherever he went, so heavy I thought they were filled with treasures of gold iningots. But no they were his magical tools of sets of well sharpened chisels any self respecting stone sculptor would be proud to own. But Mikami san is the only one I know who carried them in a small but compact back pack almost everyday when he did his project, which was breaking stones. To make a sculpture? Naturally one would presumed a three dimensional one but nay his were done in the dark sometimes in a tent if not in the darkest room possible. It was the sparks of light that he collected on a time-frame remote camera that took a shot every each stroke gave a bright spark in the dark when he chiseled away the chips off a huge granite boulder. As the sparks flew out at the same time tiny stones were chipped off a well placed camera hung from above clicked away to exposed a time based negative or slide film that later would be printed out as a ball of sparks that so delightfully feasted our eyes. The experience made me literally come to believe that every little stone we see everywhere are the same twinkling diamonds in the skies at night.

While working here Hannah Sofaer, in her capacity as one of the trustees of Portland Sculpture & Quarry Trust in Dorset invited Han Sai Por, S. Chandrasekaran, Amanda Heng and myself for a month of residency. I left Singapore to participate the sculpture symposium but stayed two years as I enrolled into Sir John Cass School of Art, in the east end, and lived in a squad in Plaistow. My housemates were eastender punks, there was no heating the house but for the kitchen stove. I spent my first winter with nights learning the cockneyed dialect over cups of English milk tea or Carlsberg special brews with open kitchen stove our fireplace.. that’s another story. After living in London for 2 years Hiroshi Mikami invited me to participate in an International Sculpture Symposium, held on a farm 2km outside the city of Gulbarga, Karnataka, India in November to December 1992. I returned to Singapore just after New Years day in 1993 reading in the papers about Vincent Leow’s infamous urine drinking performance, ‘Coffee Talk’. I wrote a letter to defend his actions.

One year later The Artists Village collaborated with 5th Passage to organized Artists General Assmbly (A.G.A.) Now that was the bitterest of bittersweet of them all if you ask me cause tonight I still found that taste lingering on the tips of my tongue. As 5th Passage lost their space due to sensational reporting in the tabloids. But I shall stop now cause I got a morning appointment at Tan Tock Seng Hospital…and cause…i got

22 degrees of loneliness…

A Country With No Names

A Country With No Names

At birth, individuals are given a name by their parents and they go through life known by this name. They grow through various permutations of possibilities – playing in the neighborhood, getting educated in school, and they become useful to society when they are old enough to work. Working in some specific role or job rewards them, and it becomes their livelihood.

Yet this generalization too simply equates human labor to goods and services. The goal of work becomes like any consumer product, to provide so-called labor or service for an exchange economy, based on demand and supply and profit motivation – the backbone of market capitalism, the form of capitalism that seems to rule today’s world.

It is hard to believe that artists often have little regard for this tendency to equate labor with product, and demand that they deserve to be treated differently. This is, for the most part, an attitude that is bestowed not by society, but by one’s self – a self that wants to be free from social norms and wants to allow creativity to manifest itself freely.

But sometimes the sensitivity toward one’s originality can be seen as selfish and egoistic. Others try to appropriately respond to the tides and tribulations of revolving changes, riding the waves of historical time, so as not to drown; We may all be luckless survivors on a ship of fools, but we could also be like the Argonauts, ever struggling to repair, remodel, and remake the very ship, the Argus, that carries us on this odyssey that requires constant shifts in order to cross the ever challenging oceans.

We were given names when we are born, but the possibility of wearing different hats may comes across as trivial or merely romantic, the futile assertion of free will in a world dictated by power and money. We forget that the artists were meant to serve our human values in the service of a higher source: the spiritual, the one and only, whatever one’s traditional “essence” may be – that convenient name for our diverse ways of manifesting ultimate reality.

Our “art” productions become accepted and consumed, even if they were originally made by selfish egos seeking to remodel and remake themselves. But even then, such artworks might not only express the individual’s search for meaning, but also the social group to which he or she belongs.

Be it as an open group of loosely affiliated friends and associates, or a more defined, legally-bound entity (such as a registered limited company), our functions as individuals mingle in overlapping, and differently permutating, institutions and affiliations.

Consciously or not, we inevitably find ourselves working and living in part of a larger social group. More often than not, the groups we find ourselves in have been in existence for a longer time than us – some going back generations, some originating in far-flung lands.

However, although we continue to operate with the background of older social groups, we live and participate today in newer social groupings and affiliations relevant to contemporary society. These recently-innovated social structures respond to current needs, and we are all caught within this multi-layered demographic web.

We see our mobility in this web as the potential to emancipate ourselves from basic needs (like food and shelter), and to be free from the social pressure to be branded or typecast (to fulfil some statistic), rather than actually pursuing individual and social happiness.

We begin life as players in the theater of life, each one of us given a name. Along the way, at each turn and crossroad, we are asked to choose the path that further differentiates us as individuals within the larger social fabric. Some of our choices will lead us to the ritual of daily role-playing, in games of learning, participating and acting. With growth and maturity, some of us attain more chances at manipulating the game. The ability to shift also entails more responsibility in re-enacting the roles that we have imbibed for ritualistic social play. Caught up in total involvement, some of us lose sight of our original goal.

We seek authenticity and ask for change whenever we become dulled by the loss of meaning. And therein conflicts begin to crop up, if not for a willingness to uphold the individual’s right to different values and to deviate from the social norm. Homogeneity, it seems, must be upheld religiously in the face of thinning societal values. The division and separation that comes between us makes previously held common ground uncertain and shaky. Our apathy, in fact, increases the chances of chaos, crises and doomsday prophecies becoming reality.

We need to survive our contemporary world, which is in perpetual movement and is constantly changing. However, there are different priorities on the part of the game designers. Most of us would only want to play a game as it had been outlined for us – with certain boundaries, goals, time or duration, form, materials used, gender and the power relations between players endowed with different physical, intellectual or emotional characteristics.

In theory, global capitalism has high respect for the individual and allows the individual freedom in rights to physical and intellectual property. However, everywhere one sees the ideals of freedom and individual rights violated by state intervention, mostly out of simple, flawed self-interest. What originally began at a level of ambitious, all-encompassing populism inevitably fails to fulfill the interests of society and ends up exploiting the weaker and poorer sectors to perpetuate the standing of those in power.

Hence no matter how any state claims to have comprehensive schemes and institutions to take care of society’s needs from education, to dating services, to armed military forces, to cultural trade fairs; from visual enjoyment to consumption via taste and digestion, from ingestion and expulsion through to the tail end of one’s physical body, the individual would in good conscience say “NO, NO, NO!!!” to the homogenization and centralization of human experience.

Independent cultural institutions are in fact important for re-humanizing our centrally-directed lives, to live and work with a network of artists in consciousness and compassion. For we are living in an overly-planned system, and one must question and openly cry out for the individual. Why do so many of the rules and regulations said to be necessary to protect us from dangerous conflicts and chaos end up being an iron cage?

We should always seek ways of organizing based on principles of anarchic thought, based on the revelation of truth drilled for authenticity, leaving the satisfaction of open-endedness for our children’s future growth and our further emancipation. We take a stance that rejects apotheosis and says: “To hell with all doomsday prophecies! We live to live another day, in the readiness that we do not fear to die trying!”

Along the way, we too make gains and losses in terms of power and material gains. Enjoyment for some may be the bane of others. Whether consciously or not, our society has evolved into greater complexity based on the motive of accumulation; however various archaic systems of wealth and power are unfairly tipped to favor past hierarchical structures, and these need constant re-evaluation to remain just and fair. Our need to incarnate social meaning is also the need to make the public view and participate in these public rituals,  pleasures of spectatorship that manifest our consciousness of human civilization.

There is no such a thing as art. There is only invention and creativity. There is no such thing as literature, only imagination and the will to remodel remake recreate the future by understanding our history. The ability to fully accept our wrongs and right them by facing them and willing to be ashamed and apologetic. But do not turn away from mistakes as if we do not make them.

We do not live in a country with no names but we may soon be if we do not learn to deal with our future history of mistaken anonymity, an anonymity based on our inability to be strong individuals within an oppressive state that pretends to give us our rights while keeping us in the golden cage of paradise.

Give me back my body!

Give me back my name!!

Give me back the possibility

… to be really me!!!

Lee Wen, March 10, 2013

commissioned text for “Files Not Found”, Palais De Tokyo, Paris, France June 21 2013



Once there was shortage of water in the Land of never poor. Come rain or shine they never had shortage of water. But due to some mysterious forces no rain and rapid draining of the lakes for the last three months or more, it made the citizens of the Land of never poor became worried. So they went to talk to the soothsayer on the mountain side where the wind blows. The soothsayer told them not to worry but instead should organize to prepare for big rain and floods instead. So the people did. When lakes were nearly dried the skies became dark covered by heavy clouds and rained for nearly a month non-stop. Not much damaged happened as the people were prepared after hearing the soothsayer’s prediction.
The rain stopped and the people of the Land of never poor decided to make big celebrations and the soothsayer was sent an invitation to be the special guest. And the people of Land of never poor asked the soothsayer how he knew the rain would come so. He said he did not know at all. It happened that he just came back home from visiting the other side of the valley, the Land of the always poor. The people being poor try always to be prepared for worst to come, whatever the situation so when no rain for such long time and never before so the people became worried and they got together and in serious discussions came to the conclusions that they should be prepared both for no rain; which there is not much you can do about; and so instead they busy themselves by preparing for too much rain. He was only passing the idea to them.

Performance at National Art Gallery, Singapore

“Singapore in 2050”, Tang Da Wu, Performance at National Art Gallery, Singapore, 1988, Photo: Koh Nguang How


Also Titled:
Slogans Of The Lost Bark

In anticipation of the trial of Seelan PALAY

Rain Stained Pain
Sun Flowers Again
Lights Sight Fright
Slept Dreamless Night
Pee After Poo
Instilling Social Alienation
Poo Added Poo
Instigating Stiffer Aggressions
Pee. And Pee
Poo Again Piease
I See All
It’s Sadly Apalling
I Seek Awe
Instead Shown Autodidacts

Slogans of the lost Bark
for the Heartlanders in PP
Roland, Ronnie
More and more
How much more?
The ones who refused to live in
This godforsaken humiliation
Godless shame

I must admit that the game of life for one to gain stability are far from what I can managed at approaching 61 years …..

“Me You and a loop named Deja Vu”

“But culture is very important in our lives. It’s very important in my life, and hopefully it’s very important in yours. Given that fact, and given the fact that we don’t lead lives that are compartmentalized, our culture must have influence on everything else we do. Some of the deprivations we look at in development could be cultural deprivations. Major battles have been fought in the world on cultural grounds — the Crusades, for example. If one takes the view that just because one cannot measure cultural output in the same way that one would measure the production of tomatoes or the value of the GNP per head, that therefore cultures are uninteresting, I think that is a big mistake. The fact that novels or poetry are not precisely measurable like kilograms of milk or flour does not mean that they are not amenable to analytical investigation. Quite often, when people say that something is not precise enough, they are just underestimating the reach of mathematics. Mathematics is one of the greatest glories of humanity, and its reach is not confined to the things that we did in college — the differential equations and applied differentiable functions and so forth. I think that’s a slander not just on culture but also on mathematics.”

– An interview with Amartya Sen, economist and author of Development as Freedom

December , 1999 The Atlantic Monthly.

….or how to live when dead, die while still alive?

Why did I say that? Am I even sure that it’s been written by a me who is wheelchair bound and at the age of 60 going on 61, battling losing causes if not already lost, in the spirit of don Quixote, undaunted fighting on. You’re probably not really reading what I mean by what I am writing here even though I profess to reassert and redefine myself in the classsic romantic mold. Hopefully a self-fufilling prophecy that strengthens into a recurrence to last if not withstanding the onslaught whiplashes of these rapid paced society with weaklings amoured by privileged heritage to positions of power to rule unashamedly, forgetting qualities imbued or learnt. Unused to opposing views, felt threatened when questioned one tends towards arrogance if not dictatorial to the point of totalitarian when wisdom does not intervene to bridge the GAP that needs mending in order to maintain relationships very precious very basic of kinship. That needed reminders to legacies common to us the people. What did we pledged allegiance to? How did we celebrated each August 9 with increasing sophisticatedly designed sparks and million dollar flying steel bird steeds flag bearers zooming back and forth across a colourful sky as the Golden Sunset brings us into magical transformations of refunnelling the diversities into one..

Note that it is one of those things we are all implicated without even trying! As we are all included in that shiny beast, as first identified as the Leviathan by Thomas Hobbes (1588-1679).