As mentioned in my Art of 2018 post, I have so many opinions to share, so do read on as I go on at length, lol! My review of Minimalism at ArtScience Museum will be coming up soon in a separate post.

| Cover picture: Peter Kennedy, Neon Light Installations, 1970-2002, neon, composition board and synthetic polymer paint |

When the news of this new ‘blockbuster’ exhibition was released, I was quite curious and excited to see what National Gallery Singapore would come up with. Minimalism / Minimalist Art honestly isn’t the kind of art that I like that much, so I was expecting to learn more about Minimalism in the context of 1960s New York where it originated.

To start off with the exhibition opener, a little context is needed: At National Gallery Singapore, you go through a set of doors where there’s a small space, before going through another set of doors to enter the exhibition proper; same goes when you’re exiting each exhibition gallery.

So, I was a little rattled when I went through the first set of doors to be unexpectedly greeted by… Minimalist music? That was before I discovered that this was a sound exhibit and these musical exhibits are also played in other spaces between the exhibition galleries. In all fairness, I’m not that open-minded about music as I am towards art, so I find it difficult to get attuned to these kinds of ‘experimental’ music, if you will.

And then, the first exhibits you see is a section of black paintings by different artists, including Frank Stella, Ad Reinhardt, Mark Rothko, and Barnett Newman. I know that the argument goes that you should slow down and ponder on these paintings… but I just don’t see how opening an exhibition with a selection of purely black paintings is a good idea.

The beginning of the Minimalism exhibition follows a textbook example with artworks by notable Minimalist artists like Donald Judd, Robert Morris, Sol LeWitt, Dan Flavin, and Carl Andre. Take a look at the Tate’s explanation of Minimalism here to find out more, I also find Tate’s series of Art Terms very helpful!

I find this Sol LeWitt drawing very interesting because it’s drawn by an artist from Sol LeWitt’s studio along with the help of four former LaSalle students – a nice touch! – based on the artist’s instructions. I’m still not too sure how I feel about this concept of works created from an artist’s instructions that is commonly seen in Minimalist and conceptual art from the 1960s and 70s.

On this matter, I also want to share this recent article from The Art Newspaper about the Guggenheim decommissioning works made from instructions that were deemed not authentic enough.

The main issue I had with this exhibition comes up really quickly in the first gallery alone – the space was overly crowded with artworks. Minimalist art demands the viewer to be conscious of the space that the artwork is engaging with (ref: Tate). At this exhibition, I really did feel that I needed more space to consider the works, but there were so many artworks placed quite close to each other. From just a picture of/with Ian Burn’s work, you can see three other works reflected in it!

Ian Burn’s No object implies the existence of any other is “based on a quote from the 18th century Scottish philosopher David Hume on the nature of perception, knowledge and understanding.” I don’t fully grasp the meaning, but it’s funny how this object sure does reflect the existence of a few other objects in this setting.

I visited the exhibition on two occasions in December and later in February this year, but Dan Flavin, monument for V. Tatlin #43 was still not working…

I have a new fascination with Mona Hatoum’s works after seeing Impenetrable and + and – (at ArtScience Museum) in person. As I’ve always said, it really makes such a difference seeing art for yourself compared to seeing it on a screen!

At this point, the exhibition starts to break away into examples of how Minimalist tendencies have continued in contemporary art, such as Minimalism in London (e.g. Hatoum) and Minimalist work in Asia, although ArtScience Museum’s minimalism exhibition counterpart solely focuses on Minimalism in Asia.

I was quite interested in Lee’s work – godret stones “are traditionally used in Korea as weights to hold rope in place while tying knots or weaving mats”. I really like this idea of re-exploring traditional domestic objects in art.

Robert Irwin’s Untitled looks quite different / better in real life, because it’s made of one central disc that forms overlapping lights / shadows when lit. It has a very nice three-dimensional effect compared to how it appears as a flat surface when captured in a photograph.

This particular room with three very distinctive artworks is yet another example of the overcrowded feeling I got in this exhibition. You don’t get enough space to view these large works from different distances and angles – same goes for Peter Kennedy’s Neon Light Installations (cover picture above) which you could only capture in its entirety from the side of the room.

I so enjoyed being in Olafur Eliasson’s Room for one colour! It’s kind of weird at first, because you see the room in yellow – and then suddenly see the people around you in only grey tones! Photos don’t do it justice, it’s really something to experience for yourself. My eyes felt a little uncomfortable after being inside for a short while, but it’s definitely a very novel experience!

I have to say, Liu Jianhua’s Blank Paper really did look like paper with its slightly crinkled look to it, so it’s amazing to find out it’s actually made of porcelain!

Felix Gonzalez-Torres’s works always feel so deliberately intentional or full of meaning despite his use of seemingly unassuming objects, but I also find it very interesting how his works are able to capture so much attention from the viewer too.

I love how in-your-face Ai Weiwei’s Ton of tea is about, well, Pu’er tea or about Chinese tea in general. It’s a big block of dried tea leaves, and you can smell a faint waft of the tea leaves when you step closer to it.

Haegue Yang’s Sol LeWitt Upside Down series, two out of three sets captured here, hangs at the background of this picture. It’s essentially venetian blinds placed against an ultramarine blue wall, with reference to Yves Klein’s blue trademark. I’m not into it though… It looks too close to a room setting more than an installation. But I looked up other versions of Haegue Yang’s Sol LeWitt Upside Down and her large-scale installations look very cool in comparison, so perhaps it’s just these renditions that don’t work for me.

I’ve seen Ai Weiwei’s Sunflower Seeds so many times in pictures, and it felt kind of familiar when viewing it in person. It’s my favourite artwork in this exhibition (which might sound so typical, but whatever!). Each of the seeds are made in Jingdezhen, Jiangxi province, China, which is renowned for its production of porcelain and ceramics.

To see more porcelain works in Singapore, Asian Civilisations Museum has a Ceramics Gallery featuring largely Chinese ceramics, that I also really like!

Tatsuo Miyajima’s work always make use of ticking numbers, as an allusion to the cycle of life and rebirth. The numbers on Mega Death (captured as bright dots in this photo) continuously count down from nine to one. When it gets to zero, the blue lights go off and the installation becomes completely dark, before it turns back on and begins its cycle again.

I actually found it all – the blue colour and the countdown – quite eerie, which I suppose makes its point as it’s a statement about the mass destruction and violence of the 20th century.

Playing around with Anish Kapoor’s Non-Object (Door)! Its concave surface causes that warped effect as seen here.

I felt that the good side to this Minimalism exhibition was being able to view many works by great contemporary artists, but problems came up in its overcrowded space and in the theme itself. Most of the exhibition was dedicated to showing how Minimalism is still seen in art today, or in the closer contemporary era, but I don’t think this idea came across convincingly.

I find the works by living artists in the latter part of the exhibition too distinctive to be compiled under this broad idea of Minimalism. While the wall texts link each artwork to a certain concept found in original Minimalist works, I felt that the overall curation lost an established idea of what Minimalism is, or in showing why these works could be considered Minimalist in some way(s). I enjoyed viewing these works individually, but their relation to a curated theme of Minimalism just didn’t come across well to me.

I was finding it so difficult to express my thoughts on this exhibition clearly in this post, and then I got the idea to include a rating system! I think it’ll be so fun to include it in all my other exhibition reviews too!

For this exhibition, I’m going to give it 3 out of 5 stars – good artworks overall, but a lack of a curatorial direction makes the exhibition experience not very enjoyable. Share your opinions on this exhibition – leave your rating below!

3 / 5 stars for Minimalism: Space. Light. Object. at National Gallery Singapore

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Huang Rui, Yuanmingyuan: Rebirth, 1979, oil on canvas

黃銳， ‘圓明園新生’， 1979， 油彩布本

The exhibition is a preview of Hong Kong’s to-be-built-soon-enough M+ museum’s permanent Sigg collection of contemporary Chinese art. Here, it’s a review of forty years of Chinese contemporary art from 1974 to present, though we will have to see how broad the full collection will be. China’s modern history is really a fascinating one (China Studies minor talking), although it would really be too ambitious of me to talk about it here. The exhibition’s website has a great timeline here, if you’re interested to know more.

Liu Heung Shing, China After Mao, 1981 Beijing, Taking Down Mao’s Portrait, 1981 (top left), China After Mao, 1981 Beijing, Painting from Life in the Studio, 1981, 1981 (bottom left), China After Mao, 1979 Beijing, Ma Desheng Calls for Artistic Freedom, 1979 (right), silver gelatin prints

劉香成， ‘《毛以後的中國》 1981年北京， 取下毛澤東肖像’，1981 （左上角）， ‘《毛以後的中國》 1981年北京，畫室裡的人體寫生’，1981 （左下角），‘《毛以後的中國》 1979年北京，馬德升演讓要求藝術自由’，1979 （右邊），銀鹽照片

Liu Heung Shing, 1989 Beijing, Hunger Strike, 1989, silver gelatin print (top left), 1989 Beijing, Sending Wounded Students on Tian’anmen Square to Hospital, 1989, archival inkjet print (bottom left), 1989 Beijing Couple Hiding Under the Bridge, silver gelatin print (right)

劉香成，‘1989年北京 絕食抗議’，1989，銀鹽照片（左上角） ‘1989年北京 送天安門廣場受傷的學生去醫院’，1989，噴墨彩印，（左下角）‘1989年北京，藏在立交橋下的情侶’，1989，銀鹽照片 （右邊）

The exhibition is split into three sections by chronological order: 1974-1989, 1990-1999, and 2000-present. The first section featured works from underground artist groups that created artworks addressing sensitive political issues, and which were restricted from public exhibition. 1989 was a turning point in Chinese art what with the Tiananmen incident of 1989 and the staging of the China/Avant Garde exhibition, which I would say initiated a wave of ‘avant-garde’ artworks in the 90s that were highly critical of the political scene and social issues of the day. The 2000s was another decade of transition with artists’ experimentation with new media, such as video art and installations. Chinese contemporary artworks in the present often focus on contemporary societal issues in China.

Wang Guangyi, Mao Zedong: Red Grid No. 2, 1988, oil on canvas

王廣義，‘毛澤東：紅色方格2號’，1988，油彩布本

Geng Jianyi, The Second Situation, 1987, oil on canvas, set of four

耿建翌， ‘第二狀態’，1987，油彩布本，一組四張

I really like this one. It seems like innocent portraits of a laughing man at first glance, but after looking at it a while longer, it begins to feel really strained and put on.

Zeng Fanzhi, Rainbow, 1997, oil on canvas

曾梵志，‘彩虹’，1997，油彩布本

Geng’s The Second Situation is a great precursor to Zeng’s Rainbow. It’s in the similar vein of masking one’s real emotions and putting on a pseudo-happy expression. Rainbow has five working men in similar styles of dress and all with the same bad hair, sharing the same masks with red lines of tension on their foreheads and hands that betray their real feelings.

Zhang Xiaogang, Bloodline Series – Big Family No. 17 – 1998, 1988, oil on canvas

張曉剛，‘血緣 － 大家庭17號 － 1998年’，1988，油彩布本

Zhang’s Bloodline Series is very well-known, and features the most depressing family portraits ever, the way I see it.

Fang Lijun, Untitled, 1995, oil on canvas

方力鈞，‘無題’，1995，油彩布本

Song Dong, Breathing, Houhai, Back Sea, 1996, Breathing, Tiananmen Square, 1996, chromogenic color print

宋冬，‘哈氣，後海’，‘哈氣，天安門’，1996，彩色照片

On a side random note, a high school group came in for a tour while I was visiting, and I was just being so jealous by myself of the fact that high school students here have such fun school trips. Make the best out of them, students!

Song’s photographs speaks to a small, but ultimately futile, attempt in changing the little bit around you. Breathing, Tiananmen Square had him lying out on the ground in the freezing cold for forty minutes! It was in the hopes that his breathing could melt the ice below him, and change a part of the environment around him.

Zheng Guogu, Me and My Teacher, 1993, chromogenic color print

鄭國谷，‘我和我的老師’，1993，彩色照片

The genuinely happy smiles in this photograph really struck me, especially after the forced smiles and sad portraits seen earlier. This has a feeling of coming back to where you grew up and seeing the people closest to you again, after having left for the big city. All the feels.

Hai Bo, They Recorded for the Future (16 Women), 1999, black-and-white photographic print and color photographic print

海波，‘留給未來（16個女生）’，1999，黑白照片及彩色照片

Seeing photographs of how people have grown over the years are always so fascinating, aren’t they? These 16 women are so awesome for agreeing to participate in this!

Ai Weiwei, Still Life, 1995-2000, stone

艾未未，‘靜物‘，1995-2000，石頭

Still life, in the style of Western art, has always been of fruits, flowers, random objects laid out on a table like skulls – but Ai changes it up with rocks instead.

I spy some Neolithic rocks… they look like the ones I saw at the Hong Kong History Museum a while back!

Zhang Huan, Family Tree, 2000, a series of nine chromogenic color prints

張洹，‘家譜’，2000，彩色照片，一組九張

I thought Song Dong’s photographs were large, but this takes the cake. Zhang addresses issues of personal identity, with the names of stories and people he knows gradually written on his face, to the point that the ink takes over his face completely.

Wang Xingwei, New Beijing, 2001, oil on canvas

王興偉，‘新北京’，2001，油彩布本

This painting references back to Liu Heung Shing’s Sending Wounded Students on Tian’anmen Square to Hospital of 1989 (shown earlier in this post), with the two injured students replaced by penguins. 2001 was the year China won the bid to host the 2008 Olympics, and was striving to create an ‘international’ image. The use of penguins represents the attempt to form a new identity, with penguins not having any attached meaning to anywhere except probably Antarctica.

The painting is not technically done very well, though this is definitely not only prevalent in Chinese contemporary art, but I do like the way Wang presents the idea behind the painting.

Shi Xinning, Duchamp Retrospective Exhibition in China, 2000-01, oil on canvas

 石心寧，‘杜尚回顧展在中國’，2000-01，油彩布本

I love this, it’s such a good joke! I half-thought this was for real, because it looked so photograph-like as if taken straight on the scene. It’s actually a painting, another great medium for manipulation, depicting a fictionalized account of Mao viewing Duchamp’s Fountain, based off of a real photograph of Mao at an industrial product fair. Of course, viewing Duchamp’s Fountain would have been so much more interesting.

Yangjiang Group, Calligraphy Peach Blossom Garden, 2004, calligraphy papers, plastic trees, wax, wooden bridge, CCTV, and massage machine

陽江組，’書法花園’，2004，水墨紙本，假膠樹，蠟，閉路電視及按摩器

This installation references to the traditional Chinese story written by Tao Yuanming 陶淵明 (365–427) in 421, Peach Blossom Spring 《桃花源記》,  about a fisherman encountering an utopian society tucked away in the mountains that lived in peace and harmony away from the rest of China.

The installation creates a landscape including, of course, peace blossoms and a wax waterfall. A pile of crumpled tossed-away calligraphy papers add a really interesting touch to it, in my opinion. I’m not sure what the CCTV is for, with its “monitoring” of the calligraphy papers, but say what you will about it.

I was endlessly fascinated by the calligraphy papers because they were vibrating – turns out there’s a massage machine underneath all that. I just had to take a video of it for keeps. 

Weng Fen, On the Wall – Shenzhen (I), 2002, chromogenic color print

翁奮，’騎牆深圳（I）’，2002，彩色照片

This is one half of a series of two photographs, the other photograph showing the same scene 10 years later in 2012, I think. The other photograph wasn’t shown in the exhibition, but I found it online somewhere. It’s clearly about China’s rapid transformation in the last few decades, visually prominent in the building of shiny skyscrapers. This photograph only shows the beginning of the changes.

I really enjoyed this exhibition as I have a personal interest in modern Chinese history and contemporary Chinese art. I can’t wait till M+ is finally up and running so I can see what the full Sigg collection has to offer! For now, head over to the exhibition’s website here to learn more if you’re interested.

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