All in their 20s, the six artists spotlighted here – all of whom are Singaporean or call Singapore home – are who we think you should be keeping your eye on and collecting now. What are the realities they face and what do they really hope for as artists? We find out.
CALLY TAN
Cally Tan
A graduate of Tama Art University in Setagaya, Japan, this 26‑year‑old enjoys giving quotidian objects – bottles, slippers, even weeds growing by the roadside – new vividness through her textile‑based works. In her hands, neon yellow netting that’s used in pest control, for example, becomes a regal veil that cascades down from the wall to shroud a miniature totem‑like beaded structure that she refers to as a “soft sculpture”. “I think we’re too used to the idea that a precious object must be doused in cultural, traditional, personal, functional and material value … I believe everyday items are more potent than we credit them to be,” she says.
The Boy Who Loves Asphalt (2023) by Cally Tan: a sculpture made of plywood treated to resemble pavement, with tiny beaded flowers sprouting out from some of its crevices, not unlike what happens in real life – the textile design‑trained Tan is known for combining unusual materials with various fabrics to make over everyday objects
This year, the 26‑year‑old artist will extend her practice of celebrating mundane objects through Tangible Care, an accessories label with the likes of embroidered leather slippers with childlike motifs such as cats and cherries
ON THE CHALLENGESEMERGING ARTISTS FACE TODAY: “Emerging artists are bombarded with very unrealistic expectations. Since we’re in the internet era and self‑promotion is so important now, a lot of artists are becoming their own producers, PR managers, logistic organisers and accountants. And although this all‑in‑one workflow might be second nature to some, there are gems in the rough who need support from curators, project managers, sponsors and other crucial personnel … Another challenge: Have you ever wondered where your art materials come from? Some of these essential raw materials are produced by long‑running intergenerational businesses that are hardly credited. Unfortunately, these businesses are slowly closing down due to inflation, global warming and a lack of successors. I think this is a challenge both emerging and established artists face and need to be aware of.”
Sayang, Sayang In My Wet Pockets (2022) is a hanging sculpture by Tan that’s made up of silk woven delicately to recreate the translucent effect of a pair of soaked white trousers, giving viewers a glimpse of the objects found within its pockets.
ON HOW THE INDUSTRY CAN HELP YOUNG ARTISTS IN SINGAPORE: “Local curators can create more programmes that include new creatives to give them more media exposure. Space owners can actively organise open calls so that young artists have more opportunities to showcase their practices. And something I thought was super helpful and is extinct now is the annual Noise Singapore mentorship programme started by the National Arts Council (NAC). I hope someone will revive it because a lot of young artists are eager to season their practices, but don’t have the luxury of funding, incubating spaces or a guiding voice to mentor them. It’d also be nice to have NAC‑funded collaborations that feature the works of artists to spread awareness of the arts while creating income revenue for artists.”
ALYA RAHMAT
Alya Rahmat
She graduated from the Nanyang Academy of Fine Arts’ Bachelor of Arts (Honours) programme just last year, but this 22‑year‑old has already caught the attention of many. Building on her fascination with supernatural figures from Malay folklore, which she sees as a way of understanding her Muslim heritage, her graduate piece Pancung Kepalanya! (Malay for “off with his head”) sought to reframe the demonised reputation of the pontianak. Instead of typical portrayals of the spirit, the installation features feminised “weapons” for the mythological figure: a series of whips decorated with the likes of underwear, hair and girlish charms. And since debuting at her graduation show, it has been spotlighted in three other group exhibitions.
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Alya Rahmat’s buzzy installation Pancung Kepalanya! combines her long‑running fascination with the supernatural with her feminist‑learning practice, reframing the pontianak figure as a symbol of power.
ON WHAT BEING AN ARTIST MEANS TO HER: “I personally don’t feel too comfortable with calling myself an artist. I think that the process of creating is more important than what I’m labelled as. For example, I think chefs are artists – and the shoe cobbler at the market is an artist in his own right.”
ON ART BECOMING MORE ACCESSIBLE AND DECENTRALISED IN SINGAPORE: “There are more spaces for young artists these days, but are we making enough spaces for minorities in the scene and making sure that they’re invited to take part in a show not just to be the token minority? It’s something I’ve experienced personally and now, I don’t accept an invite without looking into the organiser, curator and exhibition list first. It’s critical for an artist to be able to recognise who truly values you and your practice, and those who only see your work as a commodity.”
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Pancung Kepalanya! is composed of: a series of bullwhips made over with feminine objects such as hair, underwear, nails and girlish charms as a challenge to male‑dominated narratives about the mythological figure.
ON WHETHER FORMAL EDUCATION IS NECESSARY FOR ARTISTS: “I don’t think so, but it did help me a lot with honing my skills, and gave me the time and space to focus on my practice, which is a huge privilege. I also learnt a lot about curatorial studies and exhibition management.”
RYAN BENJAMIN LEE
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Ryan Benjamin Lee
Through the eyes of this 27‑year‑old who graduated from the California Institute of the Arts’ Experimental Animation programme, the allure of animation comes truly alive. Take his graduation work The Parade, an animated short that encapsulates his relationship with Singapore in a roughly five‑minute‑long storyline. Its narrative revolves around a child who transforms a staid cityscape into irrepressible explosions of shapes and colours when he’s allowed to be true to his passions. In 2023, it made its regional premiere at the Singapore International Film Festival, and has since been screened at various global events, such as the 2023 Taichung International Animation Festival and the 2024 Fantasia International Film Festival in Montreal in Quebec, Canada.
The Parade is a fantastic blend of pyrotechnical colours and storytelling, the roughly five‑minute‑long film drew from Lee’s own feelings towards Singapore and had its Southeast Asian premiere at the Singapore International Film Festival in 2023.
ON WHAT BEING AN ARTIST MEANS TO HIM: “It means having the ability to express yourself creatively for yourself. I have friends who love making art, but dislike showing it. They don’t dream of having their work displayed because that’s a conventional marker of success to them. One friend, for example, was trained in opera, but hates the opera training. So he writes operas for fun and keeps them to himself, almost as if they’re diary entries. I find a lot of inspiration in that, as it shows that success doesn’t always have to align with societal expectations.”
Animator Ryan Benjamin Lee created paper puppets for his animated short The Parade, which follows a youthful protagonist who – despite being stuck in a dull environment – has big and hopeful dreams.
ON WHETHER FORMAL EDUCATION IS NECESSARY FOR ARTISTS: “I have to agree with that, unfortunately. One thing I’ve always had an issue with is how inaccessible animation is … It’s one of those things that require a lot of money – getting industry‑standard software alone can set you back $1,000 or more. Jeron Braxton was famously self‑taught and tapped on the open‑source 3D software Blender. He’s a great example of someone who made it work on his own, which is really inspiring. However, not everyone has that level of talent or dedication to learn animation – an art form that requires familiarity with a lot of moving parts such as sound design, Photoshop and illustration.”
WHAT’S EXCITING IN SINGAPORE’S ART SCENE: “Lately, I’ve stopped attending exhibitions and have been going to more festivals, which I find more interesting. One is the Singapore Art Book Fair, which has a nice balance – you have books published by National Gallery Singapore. At the same time, anyone who can afford a booth can participate … I also attended the Singapore Clay Festival in 2024 and what I really liked about it was the mix of people: from veteran ceramicists to younger individuals trying ceramics for fun. These spaces feel special because one can experience a spectrum of talent and ages. The vibe at commercial art fairs is different. People go with different intentions, especially since the financial stakes are higher, and they don’t feel as spontaneous or inclusive.”
OWEN TEE
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Owen Tee
This 23-year-old is a great example of how being an artist is not so much about what one studies (he focused on the traditional sciences before switching to film at the Nanyang Technological University’s School of Art, Design and Media), but more a way of living. “In my opinion, an artist is an individual who intentionally engages with a chosen medium to communicate an idea or story regardless of medium,” he says. A chance meeting with the founders of Supper House – an experimental arts and design platform – led to an invitation to participate in their shows and Tee took a leap of faith in 2023. Since then, he has steadily built a name as a fine art photographer, taking part in various group shows, and has completed a residency with Supper House.
Owen Tee's shot of Ashley Chiam, Comme des Garcons collector and co‑founder of Supper House, the experimental arts and design platform that gave Tee his first show.
ON HOW HE DEFINES HIS PHOTOGRAPHY: “I see myself as a media artist, since my skill set straddles different spheres. However, what’s most important to me is the intention behind creating a work. I believe that fashion photography can be art photography, but it must be done intentionally. An example would be how Rei Kawakubo often collaborates with artists such as the fine art photographer Paolo Roversi. I wouldn’t try to classify a fashion photo as a work of art if it wasn’t intended to be one because it would involve a different set of considerations.”
Media artist and fine art photographer Owen Tee utilises a wide range of techniques such as analogue photography, darkroom printing and silkscreen printing to create his evocative images, which include landscape and fashion portraits.
ON HOW THE INDUSTRY CAN HELP YOUNG ARTISTS IN SINGAPORE: “I strongly believe in the power of arts education in one’s formative schooling years. I’m not sure how much has changed, but for me, there was a heavier focus on the sciences and maths, while art was a once‑a‑week type of class in school. The latter was treated as almost secondary – a subject that wasn’t seen as having equal standing as science or maths … Early arts education can extend beyond crafts and include discussions on sociology or psychology. Ultimately, this would produce a new generation of outward‑ and inward‑thinking individuals who’ll have the tools to engage and grow the local art scene. I’ve observed that the National Gallery Singapore has been focusing heavily on this area and I think it’s doing exceptionally well at it. There’s a dedicated arts education area for children, with frequent participation from schools and the general public.”
ELIZABETH KEZIA WIDJAJA
Elizabeth Kezia Widjaja
Frustrated with how quickly people consume content online, this Jakarta‑born new media artist and fashion photographer who splits her time between her home town and Singapore took it upon herself to create projects that encourage more intentional engagement. For example, her 2023 work Chainmail was an interactive digital experiment inspired by the user interface of Instagram Stories. The twist: the audience had to input their usernames to view the next visual instead of simply tapping as one would on the app. Her hope was to foster, in her own words, a “mindful digital environment” in which engagement is a deliberate, participatory exchange between the viewer and the imagemaker. With her blend of coding wizardry (she’s a front‑end developer by day) and fashion imagery, this 25‑year‑old made it onto the British Fashion Council’s New Wave: Creatives list and counts Lane Crawford as a client.
Elizabeth, 25, has long nursed an interest in body modification. This work exemplifies that by examining the body’s potential as a transformative canvas, with the human figure (played by Hong Kong actress Hedwig Tam) meant to mirror the act of an insect pollinating a flower.
ON THE FUTURE OF FASHION PHOTOGRAPHY: “It’s likely that artificial intelligence (AI) will play a significant role. Despite the criticism surrounding AI usage, I foresee that professionals in fashion photography will use AI and 3D rendering as tools to complement their work instead of relying on them wholly. Something else to think about is the question of what will happen post‑social media. Traditional static editorial images may no longer capture the viewers’ attention due to the overwhelming influx of images in the digital sphere. This could lead to more experimental and experiential approaches, as they offer something more unique. That said, with today’s reduced attention span, I’m uncertain about whether experiential content will be the future of fashion photography too. Nonetheless, I believe that moving images will likely become more favoured by the public.”
New media artist and fashion photographer Elizabeth Kezia Widjaja works as a software developer by day, and her interest in coding has positioned her work at the intersection of fashion photography and predicting new ways of living in the digital age. This art work, Doris & Doris, for example, a work that exemplifies Elizabeth’s fascination with human duplication and the efficiency of storytelling through repetition of form.
ON SURVIVING AS A FULL‑TIME ARTIST IN SINGAPORE: “I have two potential plans for myself. One is to work full‑time as a software developer until I achieve financial independence, allowing me to retire and fully dedicate myself to my creative practice. The other is to freelance in photography, creative web development or art commissions. Currently, I’m more inclined towards option one, as it provides financial stability and frees me from monetary concerns. Option two is ideal, but achieving a stable income through this path feels unrealistic at the moment.”
Inspired by professor Donna Haraway’s legendary A Cyborg Manifesto, she teamed up with nail artist Arya Yung to explore the idea of fusing femininity and machinery, highlighting how society moulds women into idealised roles while alienating them.
ON THE SINGAPORE ART SCENE NOW: “When I first arrived in Singapore in August 2023, I didn’t have high expectations of the underground art scene. However, I was genuinely amazed by the diversity of art being cultivated here. I vividly remember attending my first rave – a Strange Weather party – and it also became the first time I witnessed a bedug (a traditional Indonesian drum) being sampled live, by the Singapore experimental electronic duo Antarmuka. The combination of this distinctly Southeast Asian instrument and the rave setting was unlike anything I had experienced before. It’s exciting to see how Singapore has the capacity to support and showcase traditions and artists from neighbouring countries that might lack similar resources.”
PHOO MYET CHE, PEARL
Phoo Myet Che, Pearl
Based in Singapore since 2009, this 25‑year‑old Burmese artist is a regular at various local art events – she was on the organising team for the 2023 edition of the Short Circuit film festival, for example, and hosted the closing tours for the Mingalaba: A Journey Through The Myanmar Photo Archive exhibition at the Singapore International Photography Festival, held in the last quarter of 2024. (By day, she’s a management assistant at an arts logistics company.) As a first‑generation immigrant who grew up in Yangon, her multi‑media practice tends to be informed by her heritage and socially engaged art in general. See Peninsula Archives, a joint installation she created in 2022 with fellow artists Kar‑men Cheng and Syahrul Anuar that spotlighted the stories of the Burmese diaspora that frequent Peninsula Shopping Centre and Peninsula Plaza, collectively also known as Singapore’s “Little Myanmar”.
A collection of items Pearl encountered on grocery shopping trips at Peninsula Shopping Centre – the mall, a part of what’s known as Singapore’s “Little Myanmar”, was the venue of the joint show Peninsula Archives, which spotlighted stories of the Burmese diaspora here and that Pearl took part in.
ON BEING BOTH AN ARTIST AND AN ARTS WORKER: “I’ve worked in the arts industry for about four years and tend to take on roles that are behind the scenes, such as logistics and shipping. Each one has given me valuable insights on the different forms of labour that go into making a show or event happen. One of the privileges I had in my previous role was to read through project proposals that other artists come up with when applying for grants. It’s always wonderful to learn about the different projects they’re working on and they often make me go, ‘Why didn’t I think of that!’ In my current role, I get introduced to new artists around the world through their works that are brought into our warehouse … Constant exposure to creative ideas shapes my world view and influences how I navigate my own creative practice.”
As a first‑generation Burmese immigrant based in Singapore, arts worker and artist Phoo Myet Che, Pearl tries to incorporate elements of what she describes as “Burmese‑ness” into her practice whenever possible.
ON THE CHALLENGES EMERGING ARTISTS FACE TODAY: “Space constraint seems to always be the constant plague here – for the entire population, but even more so for emerging artists. Renting a studio space to pursue a creative practice comes at a hefty price tag, even with subsidised rental rates at spaces such as Goodman Arts Centre.”
Collages exploring imaginary relationships between two real‑life Burmese icons: the cross‑dressing warlord Olive Yang and Wah Wah Win Shwe, one of the most commercially successful actresses in Myanmar.
ON HOW THE INDUSTRY CAN HELP YOUNG ARTISTS IN SINGAPORE: “Singapore is lucky to have grants and funding from the government to support the arts. In the immediate Southeast Asia region, art is often a luxury that an artist needs to fight for. Apart from support from the public sector, it’d be extremely beneficial for more young artists to be supported by private collectors who are able to be long‑term patrons and supporters of their practice. Young artists can also support one another by sharing resources and knowledge, and being more open to collaborations and cross‑pollination among different art forms.”
This article first appeared in the January/February 2025 Art Edition of FEMALE