Addressing Issues That Limit Artistic Expression in Everyday Places

Art is art. We are familiar with art when it is "art". We understand them sometimes as something material, like a painting, sculpture, an installation, or an event over a specific time, like a performance or movie screening. We are familiar with these arts being produced and presented in conventional spaces, such as a theatre, gallery spaces, cinemas, screening rooms, studios and so on. Of course, there are occasions when these works are presented in alternative spaces. But there are also defined spaces, like in a church, in a quarry or in a cemetery.

Purpose-built art spaces are crucial, like the Esplanade, National Gallery Singapore, Singapore Arts Museum, The Substation, Centre 42, amongst others. These are privately managed public spaces, providing focused spaces for developing and appreciating artistic expression. They congregate audiences and supporters of the arts, therefore, creating also a sense of community. They have become iconic sites and attractions in their own right, not only for locals, but also for visitors from the region and abroad who are interested in finding out what our artistic community is doing.

But art is not just what occurs in these spaces. Human capacity for expression is not limited to just these spaces. Art is not just artifice – which it also can be – it is also about life.

When artists take art beyond conventional spaces, they seek to engage with the expressions of the everyday and in sites of the everyday. Here, the gestures and relationships of our everyday spaces and activities become the material of art.

Art as life helps us to understand ourselves, allows us to reinvent ourselves. When art happens in everyday places, the space and the gesture, the expression, all become a curio. This distancing, what we call an aesthetic distancing, stimulates queries, investigation, reflections and, on many occasions, even actions, to realise the reinvention.

Such art practice interrogates our everyday being. It comes with some inconvenience, but necessary to stimulate our creative and imaginative being. As I have said before, creativity comes from ruptures, from interventions, from challenging norms, perceived notions and habits. And when such art practices happen in everyday spaces, it becomes all the more immediate, because everyday places are public spaces that allow people to interact and be in communal engagement with one another.

As a small nation city, we have quite a substantial population, we have a lot of built-up areas – flats, huge shopping centres, office buildings. And with so much focus on economic and consumeristic activities and successes, public spaces for everyday interaction and communal engagement are important. As Peter G Rowe, a Professor at Harvard University’s Graduate School of Design said, “[A sense of community] makes me feel as though I’m part of a human race, not the rat race!”

When familiar everyday space is filled with excitement and surprises, one becomes rejuvenated and excited. One becomes attentive to things around us, not taking them for granted. Hence, art as life, in everyday places, is one important way to reconnect to our spontaneity, to rediscover our curiosity, to repair our relationships with space, things and people.

Now, I will talk about permits and permission related to the use of this space. But first, let me recall my early years when I was working at The Substation, founded by Mr Kuo Pao Kun. By the way, today is the 16th death anniversary of Mr Kuo. The Substation is also called "The Home for the Arts". And, indeed, it is a home for many artists and many different arts practices.

There was this sense of free spirit where conversations flow, things happen. It is a place that celebrates spontaneity, respects artists and their work. It also respects audience by honouring them as individuals who are generous even when they may have different tastes in and preferences on art. I would like to focus on the Substation Garden, which is an outdoor space of The Substation where the public would come, artists would gather. Hence, it is a public space.

On a busy night, there would be a set-up in the garden to prep for a performance or a hard rock gig with very noisy sound tests. There will be people after watching a piece of theatre in the Black Box, they will be gathering in the Garden, discussing what they saw, debating what they liked or disliked, expressing their frustration over some impenetrable work.

In the same Garden, artists like Zai Kuning, Tang Da Wu, Amanda Heng, or academics like Lai Ah Eng would be at the Garden, probably talking to one another after a conference, while some people may be practising on their guitars, or basker Roy Payamal would be practising his juggling skill in the Garden.

Street performing artist Roy did not need to ask permission to practise at the Garden. Roy made sure that whenever his juggling ball flew out of his hand, crossing the path of anyone there, he would pick it up and, in his very gentle manner, would smile apologetically.

Why did I take such pain to describe The Substation Garden? Because it was here that I learnt about what makes a space, a place and what makes a good public space. Here, I learnt to debate, to listen, to know that there are so many art forms, so many possible artistic practices, so many different opinions that it is important not to judge, but to know that we are all different – we have different opinions and we can co-exist.

The Garden was a place that needed no permissions. In fact, many years later, I realised that the people who used the Garden, whether the artist or the audience, gave permission to one another to try things, to be different, to disagree, to agree and, most importantly, to gather. That is why it became such an amazing public space for artists and audience. And I do not remember me, being an arts administrator there managing the Garden, having to do any policing.

Now, on the point of permits and permission, within conventional spaces, certain conditions of the space and use may already determine how art is developed or presented. I have to say that it is to the credit of some of these public arts institutions, like the Esplanade, National Gallery, which have gone the extra mile to reach out to audiences to place-make these public spaces.

However, would these huge public institutions, where artists gather, where artists would meet and talk about ideas, allow people to be spontaneous? What if when dancers, while discussing their future work at the foyer, start to move to demonstrate ideas, then followed by some improvisations that come along in response to the movements? Would this be allowed in such institutions?

I have checked with some of the artists and there are stories where they told me that they would be stopped by the security guards. And the reasons cited would be that such activities or behaviour would create disturbances to other visitors.

Have we become over-zealous in our effort to make sure that these public spaces are well kept, thereby taking away the spirit of spontaneity of an artistic space? That is an irony, indeed.

So, how can these privately owned public institutions allow such spontaneity?

What about the use of everyday spaces for the arts? There are permits and laws that prohibit certain kinds of activities or expressions, such as the Public Order Act, Public Disturbance, Obscenity Act, and so on.

These laws do articulate to an extent, and to a measure of certainty and interpretation, the scope of what is legal or permitted by the authorities.

But let us consider a hypothetical situation. On a weekday night, a musician outside Toa Payoh Library – you know there is big square there – practising his guitar. His skill was so good that he attracted people gathering around him. He responded because it was fun and he asked them to start to move and dance. So, people gathered. Is this permissible?

People may say that this is a hypothetical situation and Singaporeans are not so spontaneous. I disagree and agree. I disagree because after many years of artistic practices in public spaces, I find that Singaporeans want to tell their stories. They want to express and connect with artists. That desire is innate, deeply human, to be with one another, to do things spontaneously. In the early years of our forum theatre performances, we had to beg people to come up to make interventions or to expect our friends to come up to make interventions. But now, people, audiences, come up voluntarily. When we set up tables for conversations on end-of-life issues, people would sit and share and will not stop until we tell them that we have to end by 10.00 pm, because that is stipulated in our performance licence.

Yet, I also would agree that Singaporeans are not so spontaneous because I think we have been culturally and politically conditioned to be cautious. The many laws, like Public Order Act, that caution people from gathering, from getting together for a cause, permits and permissions needed to express, to perform, all these narratives that Singapore needs to be orderly have conditioned our mindset, inhibiting us, making us fearful of being spontaneous: what if I break the law, what if people get offended, what if people complain? And many, many "what ifs".

Deputy Speaker, there are a lot of instances where art works well in public and everyday spaces. Forum theatre in the heartlands dealing with difficult issues, like end-of-life concerns, discriminations of migrant workers, domestic violence, all these have happened in public spaces without incidents. In one of our recent works, THE LESSON, which talked about how one makes difficult choices on land issues and what is a democratic process, people stayed to participate, debate and are respectful of one another.

Crowd events, such as Night Fest and so on, where there certainly is not a high ratio of security for the crowd it attracts, would go on peacefully. I would say that the populace knows how to experience and understand art in these places.

Can art happen beyond the 30 places prescribed by the Government? Only when art can happen in ordinary and everyday places, then can we claim, as in the Arts and Culture Strategic Review (ACSR) report, that art is everywhere.

Then there is still the question of what kind of work is permitted and who can decide on them.

In the case of artistic expression, is it (a) aesthetic, which can be subjective; (b) moral, which has a level of subjectivity, too, and which has certain aspects covered under legal terms; or (c) political, which should be distinguished from legal? What are all these considerations that help decide if that work can be done in public or in everyday spaces? What if there was a case where an artistic expression does not flout the law? Should or can it then be permissible by default? Or if permission were sought for such an artistic expression that does not flout the law, would it be granted?

If a group had applied for a licence to blindfold themselves and sit in the train silently, holding the book "This Is What Inequality Looks Like", would that be permitted? Would it also be allowed if it is done without applying for a permit and licence? It is a quiet piece; it does not create any disturbances; it is performance art in the public.

What if there are some complaints from certain members of the public to the work? Does it then mean that it should be taken down, or the performance being stopped?

Can an individual or a group who disagrees with a particular artistic work or message then advocate for it to be removed in the name of it being in the public space? So, who is this public? What is this public space for? For which public?

The right to a city, this is an idea proposed by French sociologist Henri Lebefreve who talks about, if a city, which also includes the public space, is meant for the public, it should be safe and permissible for everyone to be there, to interact, to exchange information and ideas, as long as the exchange does not incinerate and create disorder. That is a right to the city, a right for everyone.

So, what should we do if there are complaints about artistic work being placed in a public space? Let me quote from ACSR, page 18: “There is scope to let the community take greater ownership of our arts and culture activities, facilities and development, in order to harness Singapore's creative capacity. Unfortunately, much of our cultural development is currently perceived as being directed 'top-down'. Our people need more space and support to initiate artistic and cultural activities from the ground-up, with the Government playing a more catalytic role in facilitating connections and allowing emergent subcultures and creative communities to thrive.”

I support the Government in this vision. But we know that while we are at the infancy of this development, there have been disputes and disagreement like the "Golden Staircase", Mr Oh’s installation at the void deck in Chong Pang, amongst others. So, here I would humbly like to propose that the Government should form an independent body, almost like an ombudsman, to look at such disagreements. The independent body should include legal experts, artistic personnel and various stakeholders to address these disagreements, to investigate complaints, but, importantly, to set up dialogues and conversations between complainants and the artists. This is how public spaces should be managed. It is about dialogues, sometimes with disagreement, but the intention is to include, not to exclude.

I would like to end my speech on this issue of trust. I hope that this Government would trust that artists in Singapore are very responsible people. A lot of times, when they make work, they do works that are personal with a lot of committed beliefs.

When we talk about earning trust, it is not just about sitting there and say, "Hey, show me you can be trusted". It means one needs to reach out to connect in order to express trust. The public space, being a space where strangers meet strangers, means we have to be able to trust by connecting and not by segregating or being territorial or tribal.

Any honest and truthful artist works on trust. Why? Because without which they would not put their artworks in the public to be critiqued, to be judged. An artwork is a personal and deep expression of self. And to show it to the public, one must trust the audience. It is this gesture of faith in our capacity as artists, as human beings, that we want to reach out to people and to hear and get their response.

Artists have great faith in audiences. Likewise, I hope the audience, the public, the Government, everyone, would have the same faith in the artists. Art practices in everyday spaces are an expression of this trust and this connection.