Yen Lin Kong: Art, Curation and Possibility

“How many of us have felt intimidated going to art museums?” Asks Yen Lin Kong. “To many people, art is that precious painting, ensconced in an ornate gilded frame, seated austerely behind a low barrier that prevents one from coming too close. Or that fragile sculpture on a pedestal, under the solemn and watchful eye of museum attendants and security guards.”

Some of us fear going to art museums because they believe it is too high brow, out of reach and inaccessible. “A friend once told me in dismay that art makes her feel stupid.” Says Kong. She said she feels like a barbarian because she doesn’t understand it.”

It is Yen Lin Kong’s hope to debunk this myth, and it is her mission to bring art down from its pedestal. “Art is truly all around us.” She says. “All it takes is an open mind, an appreciative and observant eye to connect the dots. I believe that art is an integral part of daily life even in seemingly mundane moments, like the way we chose to make our beds, fold our laundry and even spread jam onto bread.”

With experience working in the visual arts industry, and about to move on to a curatorial position with the national museum, Kong realised that she had been curating and applying curatorial skills since the very start of her career.

“Every act and gesture in daily life can potentially be a creative springboard to creative expression, conveying an identity, personality, or even social commentary.” She describes. “But he creative process doesn’t just stop there. A curator then comes in to extract and organize this moment, expound of them, heighten their meanings and bring them into the conversation with larger social discourses.”

Kong goes on to explain how the word curating actually stems from the Latin world ‘curae’, which means to take care of. Traditionally it refers to someone who oversees and manages a collection of precious objects as a custodian or guardian. In contemporary times, however, the definition of this role has evolved to include the selection, adjustment, and organization of content to convey new meaning.

“This is exactly what I did during my time at the Arts House as a visual arts programming manager.” Says Kong. “I had numerous opportunities to work with Singaporean photographers whom I deeply admired. One such photographer was Shaun Lee, who created a series on his aging parents, titled Two People. Shot in black and white, the series consisted of portraits of his parents, interspersed among numerous close up images of their bodies.”

“Most of the close ups resembled landscapes for instance, the curve of a knee resembled the gentle curve of a hill and the delicate skin beneath the neck were like ripples on an ocean. Through his sensitive and masterful eye, Sean drew our attention to the mundane details we would not normally associate as art, in ordinary circumstances.” Notes Kong.

“By slowing down and enlarging the gradual decay of the parental body over time, these images encourage us to contemplate on the intimacy between parent and child, and also the transience of life.

To present this series, Kong suggested printing the close-up images on long scrolls of paper, with smaller portraits being framed and pinned using specimen needles. “I wanted the presentation to appear free and floaty, very much like the ethereal quality of Sean’s works. Thankfully, Sean was agreeable to this suggestion, and the exhibition turned out to be one of the most memorable that I have curated at the Arts House.”

Kong’s canvas for curation later expanded from white cube space to streets and parks, when she joined the National Arts Council in 2018. “There, I was assigned the portfolio of commissioning public art.” She says.

?“I was strongly encouraged by the possibility of finally being able to bring art out to where people live, work and play because every piece of art is an opportunity to reach out to someone unlikely to step into a museum or gallery, bring them on a flight of fantasy, and indulge them with new discoveries and reflections about life.”

For Kong, it was a change to demonstrate that art was truly a part of daily life. In fact, some of the most successful public artworks she curated during this time were made from the simplest of objects, such as a series of oversized inflatable five stones by Twardzik Ching Chor Leng, which popped up across Singapore in various locations over the span of six months. ?

“Because it was visually and conceptually simple, it resonated immensely with people, reminding many of the childhood game of five stones.” Says Kong.

Another memorable project was Sam Lo’s Temporary Escapism, a series of ten quirky signages that encourage human connection post pandemic. “Blending seamlessly into Pongo Waterway Park, these artworks provided small doses of humour and respite to keen eyed residents who noticed them.” Notes Kong.

“That is the power of good public art: To be able to open up opportunity for that serendipitous chance encounter, capture your attention and curiosity with a hook, and draw you in with a compelling story and message.”

Kong’s first experience with curation was in photojournalism, or reportage photography. During her undergraduate days, she served as the photo editor of the Nanyang Chronicle. Here, she worked on a series called Through the Lens, a weekly feature which included a series of images that told a coherent story about campus life.

One of Kong’s favourite stories from this time, was a series on canteen vendors in the midst of food preparation. She returned to the same setting many times and captured the changing rhythms of the atmosphere.

“The canteen is a commonplace setting.” Kong says. “But I would like to think I captured a slice of beauty in these seemingly insignificant moments. A ray of light, filtering in through the steam of freshly made food, like a spotlight on stage.”

Kong goes on note that “That all art is manifested visually. Some is intangible, poetic, unseen. But felt beyond description.”

So how can we cultivate curatorial skills in daily life? Asks Kong. “The choices and decisions that you make in life inadvertently form patterns that inform about who you are and what you believe in.” She describes.

“Ultimately, there is no one answer, but I can offer up two possible approaches: Pause, observe and record. Create space for doubt and cultivate a tolerance for uncertainty. Sometimes creativity means acknowledging the limitations of what you know and finding alternative ways of knowing.” Explains Kong.

“A lot of art often ends with a question mark, as it is open ended in the countless possibilities it embodies. Life is as such, and it is in this grey area that curators operate.” She describes.

“There’s surely some form of art in your home. I don’t mean expensive designer furniture. It could be a ray of light, the droplet of water on the faucet, food, or the way you have chosen to prepare it. It is second nature in us to observe and create and interpret art and beauty in everyday life.” Kong believes. ??

Not only does curation allow us to engage in our own creativity, but it also holds a mirror up to our minds, reflecting the ways in which we see and think about ourselves, and the world around us. Therefore, it is an incredible chance for growth, allowing us to develop our self-awareness.

“I hope that more people will be inspired to discover art in daily life, and not just art with a capitol A, in the museums and theatres, but also art with a small a, nestled in daily life, where everyone is capable of interpreting and creating.”

With this in mind, how can we strive to become curators of beauty and possibility in our work and everyday life? By curating, we are reminded that art is for everyone, and that art can be anything we infuse great care, thought, and love into. As Kong pointed out, the word curating stems from the Latin world ‘curae,’ meaning to take care of. What is hospitality, if not the act of taking care? Thus, how can we impart Kong’s teachings into curating artful experiences within the realms of hospitality?

Written by Katie Wilson, EP Business in Hospitality