The Forest Curriculum, GAMeC, Subhashok Arts Centre
By Ian Tee

Guo-Liang Tan. Photo by Toni Cuhadi. Image courtesy of STPI – Creative Workshop & Gallery, Singapore.

Guo-Liang Tan is a visual artist working primarily in the field of painting. In his work, surfaces become a space for performing gestures of affect and conversing with the ghosts of abstraction. Guo-Liang was a guest student at The Städelschule, Frankfurt am Main, and an artist-in-residence at the NTU Centre of Contemporary Art. Recent exhibitions include 'Ethereal Machines' (2018, Ota Fine Arts, Shanghai), 'DEPTHS: Others, Lands, Selves' (2018, Elevation Laos, Vientiane) and 'Reformations' (2019, NTU ADM Gallery). Beyond his studio practice, he also teaches and collaborates with other artists on curatorial and publication projects.

We speak to Guo-Liang on the occasion of his latest curatorial project 'Strange Forms of Life' at STPI Gallery. In this conversation, he shares his approach to curating, abstraction as a way of thinking and the evolution of his artistic practice.

'Strange Forms of Life', 2020-2021, exhibition view. Photo courtesy of STPI – Creative Workshop & Gallery, Singapore.

I would like to start the conversation by talking about 'Strange Forms of Life', your latest curatorial project at STPI Gallery. Could you introduce the premise for this exhibition?
It is a show that stems from my own practice and thoughts about abstraction that have been at the back of my mind. I have always wanted to organise a show that looks at abstraction, not just formally, but in a way that recognises forms as something from our lived reality. It was a conscious decision not to do a painting show, so one will see works across different mediums and artists who have not been exhibited together before.

The exhibition is divided into three overlapping parts. The first looks at abstraction through the lens of nature, while the second considers the idea of interior life and how abstraction can help us focus and be attuned to our sense of being. The last part speaks to its relationship with memory, transience and time.

Kim Lim, 'Wind & Water Series', 1980, Lithograph on paper, 38.3 x 28.5 cm. © Kim Lim. Photo courtesy of STPI – Creative Workshop & Gallery, Singapore

The show opens with a lithograph from Kim Lim's 'Wind & Water Series' (1980), and her works are featured in all three sections of the exhibition.
I am excited to include Kim Lim in the show. She is having a moment now with the major retrospective of her sculptures and prints at Tate Britain. However, I wanted to look at Kim not as a historical artist, but to draw out her relevance to contemporary artists working today, especially here in Singapore. She is a guiding presence with different series scattered throughout the show.

What I appreciate about Kim is how she worked with particular shapes as motifs over the years. In turn, those shapes evolved into different kinds of work. For instance, there is a recurring ring-like form in her work that manifests in two-dimensional prints, sculptures, and even a bronze fountain.

Genevieve Chua, 'After the Flood #30, #31, #32', 2011-2019, exhibition view. Photo courtesy of STPI – Creative Workshop & Gallery, Singapore.

What were your considerations for choosing artists in this show?
Reflecting on the point about Kim's prolonged engagement with specific forms, I realised that I could only pick artists who have practiced for a decade or more. This was important as it allowed me to track the evolution of their sensibility and way of thinking.

Genevieve Chua is the youngest artist in the exhibition and I have included pieces across her different bodies of work. She is influenced by graphic language and this idea of ‘glitch’, both in technology and in nature. In her 'After the Flood' series (2011-2019), Genevieve paints over photography prints depicting secondary forests in Singapore. She highlights this common weed found in our region which envelops the trees, almost suffocating them. In a way, this is a hidden expression that we do not usually notice. Similarly, Han Sai Por's works share an interest in ecology even though they are often seen from a formalist perspective. It is interesting to bring their works into a similar context while also thinking about how their works reflect individual concerns.

Jeremy Sharma, 'Curtain' (detail), 2017, exhibition view. Photo courtesy of STPI – Creative Workshop & Gallery, Singapore.

With such a broad curatorial premise, how did you go about setting boundaries?
Actually, I wanted to develop another two chapters to the exhibition. One of them would look into the idea of technology and coding information, and the other would be about social abstraction. However, that would have involved a different group of artists and required more space so I had to cut it off somewhere. The show would have had a very different texture should these chapters have been fully realised.

'Strange Forms of Life' is organised as part of the 'Novel Ways of Being' initiative and as we came out of lockdown, I felt it was important not to commission new artworks during this time of slowing down. I did not want to put stress on the artists so the works in this exhibition are all existing pieces placed into a new configuration. Rather than going into production, I thought why don't we just take the time to see what we already have?

“Rather than going into production, I thought why don’t we just take the time to see what we already have?”

'Side Affects', 2019, exhibition view at Ota Fine Arts, Singapore. Image courtesy of Ota Fine Arts.

'State of Motion 2020: Rushes of Time', 2020, exhibition view at 20 Depot Lane. Photo by Joseph Nair. Image courtesy of Asian Film Archive

This show comes off the back of two recent curatorial projects: 'Side Affects' (Ota Fine Arts, Singapore, 2019) and 'State of Motion 2020: Rushes of Time'. Affect, bodily memory and time are a few recurring themes in these exhibitions.
Yes, these are all very important to me. 'State of Motion 2020: Rushes of Time' was co-curated with Cheong Kah Kit and Selene Yap, and I think many people were surprised by my involvement in it because the moving image is not a major aspect of my practice. While it may not be obvious, I have always been interested in films and time-based work. In fact, I started making videos before painting. These themes are points of entry and how I see the world.

I can only curate a show if the project makes sense to my work, when I find resonance and kinship between things. This extends to the way I look for collaborators and artists to work with. As a rule of thumb, I do not usually put myself into shows I curate because it can become a little tricky. However, with this STPI project, I felt like this show can only happen because of the work I am producing now so there is a confluence of interests.

“When you speak about looking at things through an artist’s perspective, and being able to put something together, intuition is a result of being immersed in something long enough to develop that sense of being able to select things.”

As we talk about seeing and thinking about form through the lens of an artist, I am reminded of 'The Shape of Shape' curated by Amy Sillman as part of the Museum of Modern Art's 'Artist's Choice' series. If I'm not mistaken, she was a professor during your time at Städelschule?
Yes, Amy was teaching there when I was a guest student. She is a very generous and engaging mentor. What I love about Amy is her wit and precision, both with words and in art. She gets to the heart of things in a very eloquent and economic way. Together with my other professor Monica Baer, I learnt a lot through looking at paintings and talking about abstraction during that time.

When you speak about looking at things through an artist's perspective, and being able to put something together, intuition is a result of being immersed in something long enough to develop that sense of being able to select things. It is about making sharp, clear choices informed by lived experience.

'Strange Forms of Life', 2020-2021, exhibition view of works by Guo-Liang Tan. Photo courtesy of STPI – Creative Workshop & Gallery, Singapore.

I first saw your paintings on aeronautical fabric at your second solo exhibition 'Ghost Screen' (2019). They have since been taken off the wall, and have taken on new forms such as tables and leaning doors. Could you talk about this evolution?
I wanted to be able to occupy or activate a different space by introducing a new element. The tables '1 & 3 Flat Things' (2019) were created for a group exhibition at NTU ADM Gallery and it was a fun experience setting up the work. The photographer and I realised that it was quite difficult to photograph horizontal surfaces so we had to keep moving the tables, first to document the work and then for the space. It helped me to not fixate on having a resolved pictorial composition, because there is another level of choreographing the objects that will finish the piece. For me, hanging or the installation is half the work.

In the STPI show, you will see a set of paintings and painterly objects that involve a new approach of making monoprints of mesh fabric on the painting surface. It looks like a piece of textile has been attached to the surface but the shape and its loose ends is just an imprint. I have also started painting on both sides of the translucent surface to push the layering. In one's practice, the artist can choose to make very small incremental steps within each series or make giant leaps from a body of work to another. I think it’s about finding possibilities both within and outside the limits.

Guo-Liang Tan, 'Dead Ringer', 2012, oil and acrylic on canvas, 40.6 x 45.7cm. Image courtesy of the artist.

Speaking about giant leaps, your earlier series of flower paintings could not be more different from what you are working on now.
I returned from London in the early 2000s after finishing my degree at Goldsmiths College. At that time, the contemporary art scene in Singapore was more into performance art, video and multimedia installations. If you were a painter, you would be deemed as being somewhat traditional, let alone if you painted flowers! I hardly exhibited in that period because very few people asked me for a show.

For me, the flower paintings were about playing the role of a painter, the sort whom people might dismiss as being a "Sunday painter" or hobbyist. Choosing to paint these strange, historical-looking flower paintings was a conceptual and performative gesture. I took joy in the fact that people might not know that there is conceptual framing behind the work. Once that work ran its course, I moved on and my relationship with art changed from being concerned with ideas to dealing with affects. In my time at Glasgow and in Germany, I realised there are other ways of thinking and talking about art.

“Choosing to paint these strange, historical-looking flower paintings was a conceptual and performative gesture.”

'Session 4 Lee Chang Ming + Cheng Jia Yun', 2017, installation view at Peninsular. Image courtesy of the artist.

You are also co-founder of Peninsular, an experimental platform housed in the artist studio you share with Cheong Kah Kit and Mike Chang. Could you share more about the 'Sessions' hosted at Peninsular?
The space is primarily an artist studio. For two weeks during each ‘Session’, we offer half the space to an artist and their collaborator to do whatever they like. Kah Kit and I recently did an interview with curator Anca Rujoiu on Plural Art Mag where we spoke in depth about Peninsular and the process behind this initiative. That said, we always knew this would not last forever and decided to wrap it up after hosting 10 Sessions over the past four years.

Looking at the local art scene today, there are many artists taking things into their own hands and creating opportunities to show their work. In fact, with the 'Novel Ways of Being' initiative from the National Gallery Singapore and Singapore Art Museum, one can see that institutions are now looking at how to tap into the energy of artist spaces. I feel like it has come full circle from a period when it felt like a lot of artistic production and activities were shaped by the National Arts Council and major institutions. Now is a good time for artists to do more things on their own.

I would like to end by talking about language and writing. What does it offer to you?
I would not call myself a writer, in the sense that I only write when I am curating a show or making my own work. It is a rehearsal of ideas and a way to uncover meaning when I look at something. My methodology for curating is to start by writing about the artwork individually and then putting them into sections to form relationships. Instead of working based on a theoretical framework and trickling down to individual artworks, I usually begin with no idea what the curatorial essay is about. Writing is a tool to cement ideas. There is also the aspect of having pleasure with language and spending time to find the right words.

In the last few months, I have been conducting interviews with artists featured in 'Strange Forms of Life', which will be available on the STPI website in batches. I have come to like the interview format as a way of writing, because it is a collaborative process.