Majulah Singapura! To mark its 10th anniversary and Singapore’s 60th year of independence, the National Gallery is presenting the full opening of Singapore Stories: Pathways and Detours in Art on 18 July 2025—the only SG60 signature programme dedicated to our local art history.
Expanded in scope and reimagined across newly configured spaces on the entire second floor of the City Hall Wing, the entire exhibition will now feature over 400 artworks and artefacts, from iconic masterpieces to rarely seen works from the National Collection, in its quest to reveal how art in Singapore has always been a luxury we can afford.
As avid National Gallery-goers would know, the first part of Singapore Stories, which opened last December, traces the artistic community and identity of the nation through pivotal historical moments up to the 1960s, examining themes like colonialism, cultural exchange, and the birth of an independent nation.
Thus, in building upon this foundation, the newly unveiled sections will extend this narrative into the post-independence period of today, spotlighting the impact of rapid urban transformation, evolving cultural policies, and efforts at community-building. Even if you’re not patriotic, it’s still good art—but with that said, here’s one standout piece for every section that you can salute at the second half of Singapore Stories!
Expanding Horizons
Gallery 2 of the exhibit starts with the aptly-titled Expanding Horizons, which documents the rise of a generation of artists who came into national prominence as the island modernised. Widely associated with a break from tradition, abstraction became a key mode of image-making for many artists, regardless of whether they were affiliated with institutions or self-taught practitioners.
The spirit of openness and exploration defined the era, as many artists pushed the boundaries of both their inspirations and expressions, drawing from diverse cultural sources whilst moving fluidly between new techniques and forms. One such piece that exemplifies this shift is Khoo Sui Hoe’s Children of the Sun, the first artwork of this section and the second gallery overall.
At a staggering 230 by 230cm, the painting is bound to catch eyes not just because of its commanding size, but also for its vibrant colours. Though Khoo deliberately adopted a highly abstract pictorial style to evoke imaginary worlds and psychological atmospheres, clear motifs of Maritime Southeast Asia are still visible.
These include the elongated limbs of the figures reminiscent of wayang kulit, the elements of nature between them that echo our tropical climate, and a cleverly rendered sea that subtly conceals the canvas’s seams—while also depicting the lifeblood of the region in a not-so-subtle shade of bright red.
Perhaps the vivid figures coexisting in harmony could also allude to our nation’s aspirations of being a multicultural state. And seeing as Children of the Sun was initially a commission for the Singapore Conference Hall, that might not be too far of a stretch to say, which is why this piece is definitely one you should catch this SG60.
Presence
From there, Singapore Stories transitions into Presence, a survey of how local artists grappled with how best to represent not just nature, but more specifically, the human figure. So, in addition to realistic (and sometimes mouthwatering) works of still life, the section also displays numerous portraitures, such as Rohani by Georgette Chen.
Believe me, I’m well aware that the National Gallery loves to showcase our local darling—her self-portrait is literally on display just a floor above this exhibit! But unlike Georgette’s other pieces, where I’m mainly captivated by her raw talent and brilliant brushwork, this time I was drawn to the painting because of the subject herself.
As its name suggests, this portrait features Rohani Ismail, a student of Georgette Chen at the Nanyang Academy of Fine Arts. As fellow artists, the two of them shared a deep and lifelong friendship and often exchanged letters in Bahasa Melayu, to the point where Georgette had a Malay nickname, Chendana (meaning sandalwood), which she used to sign off.
However, it seems that Rohani’s art has unfortunately been lost to time, with only a handful of letters to Chen remaining as the sole remnants of her work for view at the gallery. So, until that hopefully changes, this portrait of her seated with poise will be the only face the greater public will know Rohani Ismail by.
And while that I think, is truly bittersweet—it also makes all the details Georgette painstakingly painted all the more beautiful, from the subtle brown shades of her hair to the delicate gold pin bearing the letter “R.”
Liberating Form and Colour
The third section, Liberating Form and Colour, takes us on a trip through the artistic and cultural exchanges of post-independence Singapore, as new ideas and perspectives developed in conversation with international art movements, sparking a proliferation of stylistic approaches.
Much like today, many young artists of that time broadened their outlooks through travel, overseas study, and exposure to global art publications. And while some used that newfound knowledge to pursue new ways of seeing and creating non-literal representations, others instead used it to blend craft traditions and modernist abstraction together, resulting in pieces like Sarkasi Said Tzee’s Fish.
Having been exposed to batik as a child by helping his grandmother sell textiles, Sarkasi only seriously began to learn about the art form during the 1960s, when he travelled extensively around Southeast Asia to learn from batik printing centers, his grandparents’ hometown, and even at the Yayasan Akademi Senipura Nasional (National Academy of Fine Arts) in Jakarta.
In Fish, the Singaporean artist took the same contemporary approach to batik as he did in many of his other works, using abstract and modern techniques within a local context to depict the aquatic animal through a myriad of shapes, lines, and forms that could just as easily represent any other sea creature.
Personally, I spotted the thin antennae of a lobster, the decorated shell of a tortoise, and even the anal teeth of a sea cucumber (yes, they have those) all at one go. But regardless of whether you also see a Fish or not, one thing is for certain: Sarkasi and his painting wholly embody what this section is all about, and that’s exactly why I’d recommend giving this piece a closer dive.
Vectors of the New
Now halfway through Singapore Stories, the exhibition unveils one of its biggest sections yet, Vectors of the New, which focuses on the evolution of modern art in the 1970s and the answers of countless artists as to what the new forms of art could be like.
Seeking to expand perceptions, they experimented with emerging industrial materials and tech. Plastic, steel, fibreglass—these media and more redefined the possibilities of painting and sculpture, where elements like light, colour, and rhythm became central to transforming how art was experienced.
And what do you know: one artist did indeed step up and use all three said elements to craft a three-part answer. Now, forgive me for not sticking to the one-work technicality, but when the light sculptures of Tow Theow Huang are arranged in such a manner, how could I ever possibly leave even one of them out?
Individually named Boxes Inside and First Rain with one untitled piece, Tow crafted each of these glowing artworks by slotting acrylic sheets into a box, allowing their illuminated edges and etched patterns to glow, creating optical effects. First exhibited at the artist-run Alpha Gallery (of which our first artist, Khoo Sui Hoe, had founded with others), visitors at the time were invited to rearrange the sheets to form their own sequence of patterns.
This spirit of play and participation was central to Tow’s approach, and to put it as a response to the question posed, he envisioned his art as multifaceted objects: at once decorative elements, sources of light, and most intriguingly, toys.
Perhaps, that’s why it’s all the more poignant that each plaything is ironically accompanied by a sign discouraging interaction for the sake of conservation, and undoubtedly why it’s my pick for Vectors of the New. Isn’t it funny how we, in the present, can’t fully engage with a work created for the future, precisely because it’s rooted in the past?
Body, Self and Other
In Body, Self, and Other, the exhibit picks up where Presence left off and continues to explore the human figure, this time zooming in on the more provocative but also more personal interpretations of the body that emerged in the 1990s. Despite lingering anxieties about nudity in art, artists continued to engage with the body as a way to ask questions about identity, including those of race, gender, and sexuality.
So, if that isn’t enough of a not-safe-for-work warning for you, I’d advise logging off the company WIFI at this point in the article, because there’s a lot to take in about Amanda Heng’s Body Fragment Speaks I and its powerful contents—but absolutely nothing that you’ll want to explain to HR or your boss.
The charcoal drawing presents close-ups of various body parts, ranging from “normal” features like limbs, eyes, and a stomach to more explicit ones, including a breast, buttocks, and even a full frontal shot of a penis. Yet even with the sitters’ identities unknown, the artwork doesn’t need names to make its point—for every Body Fragment Speaks for itself.
Through these intimate yet incomplete snapshots, the work thus breaks down traditional figure drawing, challenging the typically fixed notions of a body and which parts are objectified or overlooked. Plus, given that Amanda Heng is better known for her performance art, this drawing becomes all the more valuable in revealing the relationships between her ongoing exploration of the body and the illustrative medium.
Coming Together for Art
Moving into Gallery 3, the sixth section, Coming Together for Art, deals with the new sense of dynamism in the cultural scene of 1980s Singapore, as artists sought to deepen the relationship between art and civic society. Building on initiatives like the Singapore Arts Festival and the Festival of Arts Fringe, many creatives began to organise their own multidisciplinary events that laid the groundwork for forming artist collectives.
Among these collectives was The Artists Village, whose co-founder, Tang Da Wu, was one of many in the group who turned to the rural as a site for reflection, offering a counterpoint to Singapore’s exponential urbanisation. One such work by the artist from this period is Just in Case, which, like its title suggests, is more than meets the eye.
Playing with both words and materials, the sealed wooden crate exemplifies Tang’s layered approach to meaning. Marked “from Burma to Singapore” with a torch mounted over one of its two holes, it’s clear that the artwork is meant for curious visitors to peer into and uncover what lies within.
And once you take a look inside, the word “JUST” comes into view, possibly prompting you into thinking this sculpture is nothing more than just a lame manifestation of wordplay, though you’d be far from the truth.
Indeed, I doubt that few today can recall the political and social conditions of Myanmar off the top of their head, much less what the nation was like in the 1990s. But once you learn that a military had seized control despite a democratic party winning the elections just a year before this work was created, it should become painfully clear why the box bears that marking.
And so, with that added context and the fact that Just in Case and “Justice encased” make for solid homophones, the true brilliance of this sculpture is revealed: as viewers at a distance in Singapore, we’re positioned as helpless bystanders, able only to watch as freedom is boxed in and kept out of reach.
Even today, one might argue that the situation remains much the same, as the civil war rages on in Burma while Singapore, with the rest of ASEAN, continues to uphold the principle of non-intervention despite the countless lives lost. This critique can also be applied to our nation’s stance on other global conflicts, and as its 60th birthday approaches, I think it’s appropriate that we take a look back at how, for better or worse, some things still haven’t changed.
A Space of their Own
As for the penultimate section, and perhaps my favourite one as well, there was a lot to choose from in A Space of their Own. From Baet Yeok Kuan’s Anxiety, which can only be described as “kinky dough balls,” to Lee Wen’s Journey of A Yellow Man No. 11: Multi-Culturalism, who looks like a juicy piece of kampong chicken—there’s a lot to compare and contrast here.
Ultimately though, I knew right from entering Singapore Stories that was one work I just had to cover. But to view the gallery’s greatest metaphor, we’ll have to step outside Gallery 3 since, like the exhibition’s byline suggests, detours are to be expected. Here, in A Space of Their Own, I humbly present Still Life by Suzann Victor—an installation that means exactly what you think it means.
Originally conceptualised in 1992 for Body Fields, a live performance event at Parkway Parade, Still Life is considered an early example of a site-specific installation in Singapore. At the heart of the work is the humble fruit that goes by many names, but regardless of whether you know it as an eggplant, brinjal, or aubergine, one thing’s for sure: this cheeky euphemism transcends both language and cultural boundaries.
By the way, this installation came decades before the emoji era—can you believe that? I guess that, unlike the eggplants themselves, which are replaced monthly, the idea they represent is truly timeless. And in case you’re wondering how much brinjals are going to waste, fret not: the answer is zero, since the old aubergines will be donated to Ground-Up Initiative, a non-profit social organisation, for composting in their community farm.
Navigating the Interdisciplinary
Finally, the eighth and last section, Navigating the Interdisciplinary, entirely takes place outside of the galleries. Following the 1989 recommendations of the Advisory Council on Culture and the Arts, the government started investing heavily in arts infrastructure, while also introducing subjects like English Literature and Theatre Studies into the school curriculum.
This cultural ecosystem allowed interdisciplinary practice to flourish, and as part of their artistic language, many artists began moving fluidly between forms—merging theatre, moving image, and installation. As such, new conversations about art emerged, and seizing the chance, Lee Wen boldly asked the island: Is Art Necessary? What Is Art Good For?
As part of a series that sees Lee exploring the role of art in a civil society, Lee moves through a dream-like sequence in this performance, struggling with wing-like props that have a question on them each as he travels across different parts of Singapore. The act ends at the Esplanade, where he engages with members of the public to share their responses.
For some inexplicable reason, this premise arrested me—almost as if Lee Wen was confronting me himself. Plus, even though the video takes place in 2005, the questions still resonate as powerfully as they did two decades ago, perhaps even more so with SG60 on the horizon and a nice, round number of years to look back upon.
I don’t think it takes much thinking to guess how I stand on the first question, but in regards to the second, I think art is good for all. Throughout each and every single one of these eight artworks, there exists a commonality of hope—whether outwardly espoused, as in Tow Theow Huang’s light sculptures, or coincidentally felt, as in Georgette Chen’s Rohani.
Even pieces that appear to be bitter, like Tang Da Wu’s Just In Case and Suzann Victor’s Still Life, can be, in another light, the most uplifting. After all, as one thinker aptly put it: true patriotism hates injustice in its own land more than anywhere else. Why else would these local artists decide to challenge the norm, if not to see change happen on their shores?
And so, as the exhibit celebrates 60 years of art history, come play your part in honouring the diverse lives, practices, and perspectives of those who have made, taught, and shared art by paying a visit to Singapore Stories: Pathways and Detours in Art today!
Singapore Stories: Pathways and Detours in Art
🗓️Date: Now (DBS Singapore Gallery 1 is open, while Gallery 2, 3 and other spaces across Level 2 have reopened fully on 18 July 2025)
📍Location: Level 2, DBS Singapore Gallery, City Hall Wing, National Gallery, Singapore 178957
💲Price: Free for Singaporeans and PRs
⏰Time: 10am to 7pm
To prepare for the grand opening of Singapore Stories, check out the National Gallery’s official website for more information about the exhibit, as well as the wealth of others that run alongside it.
Do also use the hashtag #DBSSGGallery when you post about your visit for a chance at being reposted on the National Gallery Singapore’s Instagram and TikTok! With that, here’s to 60 more years of local art in Singapore, and a happy SG60 to you!
Photos by Zheng Yi of the DANAMIC Team. Additional visuals courtesy of National Gallery Singapore.
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