ANYONE WHO WALKS into a gallery, studio or art space has no clue what is exhibited before them. It’s true—no one does. In fact, art is everything it can be; simple, abstract, complex, rubbish. You might get it at first glance, or you might have to stand long enough, changing angles of sight, to grasp what you’re looking at.
Art does not necessarily demand to be understood; it speaks the unspeakable.
Identity in Artistry
An artist’s identity is expressed through their works.
In “residues: hinging on my insanity”, an open studio by Arundhati Kartik, Wang Xi Jie and Hendra Selamat held at Hin Bus Depot from mid-June to mid-July this year, the three artists engaged with the space as a site for reflection and change, where dislocation and transplantation of works and ideas take place from Singapore to Penang. By allowing fragments of the past to resurface within the present, their artistry responds to them both, materially and metaphorically.
