I started with a very general idea, which was to hang out with locals. I can’t plan things on paper. After two weeks here, I was quite anxious as I still didn’t have a real concrete idea. But I believed that at one point it would come. Everyone I met contributed to my process of cooking up the idea. Then at a secondhand shop I found an old poster of a Thai movie called Operation Bangkok, which resonated with me, and then it all clicked. I’m not claiming that I know the city inside out; it’s about my first-hand experiences of Bangkok. I couldn’t put it all in one painting. So I asked myself, “Why don’t I turn the space into a lab, an operation room where I can share my experience?”

 

The setup happened in the four days before the opening. Everyone was worried whether I would finish in time. Looking at the gallery’s big white space, with all the natural light coming in, I knew it would either kill me or I would kill the gallery. So I decided on the latter. The horizontal lines of the bookshelves and the vertical lines of the lamps hanging down are used to visually slice and divide the space. And we have this song about Bangkok, which was exclusively composed by a security guard at Chulalongkorn University who I was introduced to. You’ll hear the song as you walk around the lab, working as a binding glue to the whole experience. People can play around with things, see the work inside the files and drawers and each experiment by themselves. For the opening we had 10 scientists working in the laboratory, thanks to the Ladkrabang team, to give the audience a kind of “what the hell” experience.

 

 

I used to have a big studio; when I closed it, people asked me why. I simply found a bigger studio. And my new studio was outside. There’s a lot more energy, it’s more inspiring. You can never underestimate what people have to share; people never cease to surprise you. The best way to describe what I do, I think, is “an observer.”

 

I haven’t had an exhibition in Malaysia for 2-3 years now. Nobody invites me. I don’t know why. People don’t see what I’m doing as art; if you do something on canvas, that’s art. I was quite frustrated at first but then realized I should not waste my energy. You cannot change people. I look forward and enjoy doing what I want. I can’t look back, too. It’s been hardcore, and it’s too scary to look back!

 

I’ll go back to Malaysia for a short break before a two-month artist residence in Berlin. I have one coming up in Indonesia, too, which will be about IKEA and popular culture: how IKEA sells us dreams.