What’s On Your 2026 Vision Board?
Emerging creatives from tech, film, F&B and more tell us about their goals and predictions for 2026.
What does the future look like from inside a scene? We asked Singapore’s emerging creative class who hail from the worlds of fashion, film, art, F&B, technology and more to reflect on what’s shifting in their industries, what’s holding them back, future trends and the new worlds they’re manifesting for 2026.
THE ARTIST HUMANISING TECH: ASHLEY HI
Think tech in art is boring? Think again. Through her art and tech research lab Feelers, 27‑year‑old artist Ashley Hi aims to make it playful and approachable, and her show Ground Loops, revealed at Singapore Art Week this January, turns digital glitches into interactive music, movement and mischief.
Tech doesn’t have to feel cold or intimidating. For artist Ashley Hi, it’s closer to magic. As the co‑founder of the six‑year‑old art and tech research lab Feelers, her projects often treat the virtual as something we collectively inhabit as opposed to a faceless tool. Take Cloud Cryptid Friendship Society, an online performance on Zoom in which Hi and her collaborators played members of a society tracking fictional creatures, with audiences invited to dial in to watch them at it. Blending internet conspiracies and spiritualistic rituals, the 2024 work commissioned by the Singapore Art Museum is characteristic of what Feelers aims to do: make tech narrative‑rich and accessible.
This January, Hi, 27, will be bringing New York’s School for Poetic Computation – an experimental platform that explores the intersection of art, hardware and coding – to Singapore Art Week for Ground Loops, a playful joint exhibition revolving around software, bodies, dirt and ideas that asks us to listen differently to the digital world we live in.
FOR STARTERS, WHAT GOT YOU INTO THIS FIELD WHERE ART AND TECH COLLIDE?
“I was first inspired by art and tech about 10 years ago, when I found out about ART+COM (the collective that made the Kinetic Rain sculpture in Singapore Changi Airport). To further my practice that sits in between art and computing, I pursued a degree in digital arts computing at Goldsmiths, University of London. After graduating, I started working on Feelers to continue this line of art and tech research. To me, the effective use of tech in art has a way of eliciting joy and wonderment with an immediacy akin to magic. That’s my goal whenever I conceptualise works and programmes. Also, as tech has become such a big part of our lives, it’s important to consider it critically in creative fields as well. This means taking into consideration how daily interaction with artificial intelligence or the internet means we’re all already stakeholders. Tech shouldn’t be used by creatives in only decorative or superficial ways such as augmented reality or virtual reality. It’s something that also has social value and can be the medium for a collective experience.”
TELL US MORE ABOUT FEELERS.
“Feelers started out as a Covid‑19 project in 2020. My co‑founder, artist‑slash‑writer Ang Kia Yee, and I met an investor who took an interest in art during the pandemic. Feelers came to exist as a project under his main company Potato Productions, which comprises a portfolio of companies across disciplines. Back then, the goal was to make art accessible to audiences through their screens with the use of different online platforms. After Covid‑19, Feelers operated like a consultancy for art and tech‑related commissions, and we were occupied with more projects than the number of months in a year. After a while, it was difficult to not burn out, so we decided to consolidate our work by calling ourselves a research lab. (Ang also left the team in 2023.) Now, instead of publishing papers, we present our research in the form of artworks, performances and education programmes. Within everything we do, our main research is about intriguing tech and internet phenomena that we feel have cultural value.”
THE ART‑MEETS‑TECH SPACE CAN COME ACROSS AS INTIMIDATING OR EXCLUSIVE. WHY IS IT IMPORTANT FOR IT TO BE MORE ACCESSIBLE AND HOW DO YOU SEE THIS HAPPENING?
“It feels exclusive because it is abstract. Tech and the internet make a great container for abstract ideas. Firstly, it offers a space that allows for possibilities of imagination and aspirations. Secondly, its infrastructure – the material hardware of the interfaces that allow us to access the internet as well as the software logic of the code it runs on – is abstract to most people. Once we realise this though, the space becomes one that has the perfect conditions to make concepts and ideas more personal, relevant and enjoyable …
Something very important for us at Feelers is the onboarding experience. No matter how tech‑savvy one might be, there’s a baseline understanding of what we do that’s needed. Usually, we try to help audiences understand how to engage with our work through an accompanying text or essay. However, we believe the visual arts – not just the field of art and tech – should adopt from theatre the idea of having a dramaturge. A dramaturge ensures that the heart of the project is woven into the performance, making the context part of the art rather than an afterthought on a piece of paper.”
When asked to share images on her vision board for the year, Hi presented this collection of still lifes that includes several depictions of wires and road works – fitting, considering that her practice explores the intersection of art and technology. It’s time that code manifests as tangible, 3D objects, she says, and that technology is not perceived as something cold, but instead be imbued with human warmth
WHAT TRENDS ARE YOU NOTICING IN THE SCENE RIGHT NOW?
“These days, people aren’t as intimidated by tech, even if they don’t fully get how it works. In the arts, we’re seeing a broader definition of media art that goes beyond video or sound. It also thrills me to have seen more interdisciplinary takes on art and tech this year, ranging from formats such as theatre, dance and performance installation with themes like feng shui, Greek tragedy and conspiracy fiction, just to name a few.”
WHAT’S ONE THING YOU REALLY WANT TO DO THIS YEAR?
“My team and I would love to visit a real data centre, though access to them is tricky for privacy reasons. After all, our interest lies in exploring the material side of data itself: what infrastructure makes it flow and whether data can even be considered a ‘place’. To be able to bring these themes to the stage, we first need to understand how the tech works, what it looks like and where it exists.”
WHAT ELSE ARE YOU MANIFESTING FOR 2026?
“In terms of tangible goals, I hope to run a successful 2026 season at Feelers, bringing together writers, ceramicists, movement artists and floral arrangers to explore technology in a possibly romantic way … On a more aspirational level, I want to research different ways collectives or organisations can exist. I’d love to visit spaces and centres – from larger ones like the Yamaguchi Center for Arts and Media as well as the Serpentine, to independent spaces such as Namnam Space – to experience mentorship not available in Singapore. This will help Feelers explore our ongoing question of ‘how to go on’. I’m also looking forward to completing my MA in Fine Art and fulfilling my commitment to my NAC‑UAS Arts Scholarship as a thought leader in the industry.”
THE CAFE OWNER WHO WANTS YOU TO TAKE MATCHA SERIOUSLY: NATALYN CHAN
Singapore’s cafe scene is brimming with food trends, constantly finding ways to make coffee, tea and matcha feel new. At the forefront: Natalyn Chan, co-owner of Gen Z cafe favourite Cafe Gyoen, whose approach to the cafe staple, matcha, focuses on intentionality and slowing down.
On the surface, Cafe Gyoen may seem like yet another pit stop for strawberry matcha latte hunters, but its 28‑year‑old co‑owner Natalyn Chan is playing a much deeper game. While matcha has rampaged across the globe as a flavour of the day, Chan treats it with the reverence it earned when it first arrived in Japan in the 1100s. By combining her family’s F&B roots (they run Yamato Izakaya) with her own background in luxury fashion and design (she had previously worked in media and content creation), she and her brother Ryan have created a sanctuary on Club Street that translates ancient tea rituals into a space that speaks perfectly to a new, design‑conscious crowd.
WHAT ARE WE FEELING TOWARDS THE LOCAL F&B SCENE THIS YEAR?
“I think we’ll see fewer novelty‑driven cafes and more experience‑focused ones. People will cafe‑hop less, and choose places that offer depth, comfort and intention. Sustainability will become quieter and more practical, and operators will need to run more resilient businesses.”
AND WHAT ABOUT MATCHA?
“The majority of consumers discover matcha through trends or social media, so their first experience is often surface‑level. Matcha with heavy sugar and milk is common, which makes it accessible but masks the natural flavour of high‑quality matcha. Many also assume matcha is always lighter or healthier than coffee, but caffeine levels depend on dosage and quality. It’s easy to overdo it when chasing intensity or volume. That said, a growing group of consumers is becoming more discerning. People are paying attention to colour, flavour profile and region, and are genuinely interested in what makes one matcha different from another – a positive shift that supports better quality and respect for the craft.”
TELL US A BIT MORE ABOUT YOUR OWN HISTORY AND EXPERIENCE WITH MATCHA.
“My journey with matcha started long before Cafe Gyoen. When I decided to take Gyoen down a specialised matcha route, I learnt directly from tea masters and farmers to understand the culture, technique and values behind matcha production. That changed how I saw matcha completely. It became something I felt responsible for representing accurately. Everything we do at Gyoen, from sourcing to preparation, comes from that experience. We’re also sharing matcha beyond the cafe, including selling matcha tins on an upcoming online platform, so people can continue learning and experiencing the way of tea (chado) at home.”
WHAT ARE YOU MANIFESTING FOR 2026?
“This year, I hope to grow a community that genuinely respects matcha as a craft, and values balance in flavour and experience. I aim to expand our retail and cafe offerings with a revitalised menu, seasonal matcha blends and a new e‑commerce platform to make matcha more accessible. Another priority is forging deeper relationships with tea masters, teaware makers and calligraphy artists, who are essential to chado. Ultimately, I hope to create a space where appreciation, care and intention define how matcha is experienced.”
THE ART DIRECTOR CREATING SOME OF SINGAPORE’S MOST UNPREDICTABLE EXHIBITIONS: JOASH THUM
The 29‑year‑old art director Joash Thum isn’t interested in staying in his lane, which might explain why Tokonoma, the buzzy multidisciplinary space he co‑founded, doesn’t either. Coming from advertising, and working closely with art gallerist and co‑founder Ken Tan, he helps shape exhibitions that thrive on friction: fashion beside history, utility beside emotion. A recent show on war and creativity included atypical Afghan war rugs woven with tanks and maps – artefacts that mirror Tokonoma’s wider impulse to look at culture where it’s messiest.
At the year‑old multidisciplinary space Tokonoma, one never knows quite what to expect. Tucked away in the industrial Tai Seng area, exhibitions jump from confrontations of how humanity’s obsession with consumption has turned utopian dreams into ecological and cultural collapse, to high‑velocity showcases of Vietnamese streetwear that pack the space to the rafters. At the centre of it all is art director Joash Thum, who co‑founded the place with veteran gallerist Ken Tan.
The 29‑year‑old’s own background, which covers graphic design to advertising, has instilled in him a discipline in being precise. But instead of wrapping things up in a neat bow for clients, he now uses that framework to create shows that allow ideas to marinate, and stay a little strange and unpolished. “I believe it keeps things honest and the work interesting,” he says. So firm is his conviction that he has since left his advertising job to fully concentrate on programming for Tokonoma.
WHAT ARE THE CORE PRINCIPLES THAT GUIDE YOUR WORK?
“This may sound like vibes or whatever, but I promise it isn’t. I tend to work off instinct – just not in a mystical way. It’s the kind of instinct you build after learning, doing and looking at enough work, good, bad and everything in between. If I had to name a few, the first would be reduction. If something doesn’t need to exist, it probably shouldn’t. The second is intent: Every decision needs a reason beyond decoration or trend. And the third is tension. I’m drawn to work that can hold seemingly opposing ideas at once – function and emotion, clarity and discomfort, utility and meaning. When everything is resolved too neatly, the work usually stops being interesting. At least to me.”
WHAT’S THE IDEA BEHIND TOKONOMA?
“I’ll spare you guys the insane, lofty, conceptual intersection‑between‑art‑and‑community type description. The idea is simple: we’re storytellers. We do that through three touch points: exhibitions, clothing and events. We take ideas and histories that often get flattened or overlooked, and give them the time and space to be understood. There’s always a twist though: the unexpected. We call it the Tokonoma lens. A show about rare military camo trousers, for example, isn’t really about camo. It’s about the creativity and adaptation born from war‑time conflict, followed by the power and history that comes with it.”
For Thum, looking back is key to moving forward, which explains why his imaginary vision board for this feature comprises snapshots of the things and moments that have shaped him, and consequently, Tokonoma.
This image: (top row, from left) his exotic plant collection, him in the Rothko Room at Kawamura Memorial DIC Museum of Art, a Chen Fei show at Tokyo’s Watari Museum of Contemporary Art; (middle row, from left) a slip from a fortune cookie, a display of a Kurt Cobain T‑shirt and a fan‑made version of the stool found at the grunge icon’s death scene for the Tokonoma exhibition The End (F*ck ‘Em All), the celebratory meal after the Tokonoma team secured its space on Shaw Road; and (bottom row, from left) one of Thum’s favourite tees, an original Quentin Blake illustration exhibited at The End (F*ck ‘Em All) and another piece from Thum’s collection of vintage T‑shirts (yes, he loves them).
WHAT’S THE BIGGEST CULTURAL SHIFT YOU’VE OBSERVED IN SINGAPORE’S CREATIVE SCENE LATELY?
“I think it’s that people are spending less time asking for permission. A few years ago, there was a strong focus on validation, institutional backing and visibility. That’s still there, but it doesn’t feel like the only path any more. More creatives now seem comfortable operating at a smaller scale, on their own terms. You see it in people starting independent spaces, self‑publishing, or running small events without waiting for formal support. They’re not trying to be everywhere; they’re trying to be specific – building something sustainable for the people who care.”
WHAT DO YOU THINK IS GOING TO BE BIG IN 2026?
“Taste, discernment and editorial judgement will matter more than ever. Artificial intelligence can generate options endlessly, but it can’t tell you which one is worth pursuing, or when something should be killed entirely. As production gets cheaper, the ability to frame ideas and understand context, culture and consumer psychology becomes more valuable. Deciding what not to make becomes a skill in itself. Sensitivity to timing, audience and meaning matters more too. Not everything that can be made should be made, and knowing the difference is where human value sits.”
Top row, from left: Thum cradling a maneki‑neko (literally a “beckoning cat”, a Japanese symbol for good luck); his go‑to supper order when he needs what he calls “fuel for ideas”; and a mechanical installation by South Korean artist Han Jinsu that was part of The End (F*ck ‘Em All). Middle row, from left: A plant shop in Tokyo that was one of the inspirations for Tokonoma; the 1819 Percy Bysshe Shelley book Rosalind and Helen, a Modern Eclogue; With Other Poems; and the poster for The End (F*ck ‘Em All), designed by Thum. Bottom row, from left: Another fun vintage T‑shirt belonging to Thum; a store in Tokyo with an impressive collection of Pierre Jeanneret chairs that Thum came across; and the ramen store where Thum bonded with Tokonoma co‑founder Tan after they first met.
WHAT ARE YOU MANIFESTING THIS YEAR?
“People describe Tokonoma’s programming as very thoughtful and curated, but we like to call it acting on our intrusive thoughts. Each show starts from a different question and early on, a lot of what we did came from instinct and whatever we felt compelled to respond to at the time. After a year of working that way, we started to understand which ideas had legs and which ones needed more time. This year, we’re building a clearer structure around those learnings, not to become safer, but to go further. The aim is to keep doing things we haven’t seen before, just with enough framework to actually execute them well.”
THE YOUTH LEADER MAKING SUSTAINABLE FASHION FUN AGAIN: LUMIN HEW
Lumin Hew is making sustainable fashion less about guilt and more about belonging. By inviting people from all walks of life, from students to retirees, to join her projects – from giant textile installations (top right corner) to hands‑on workshops (top row, middle photo) – Fashion Parade proves that eco‑consciousness can be artful, collaborative and inclusive.
Globally, sustainable fashion may have appeared to take a back seat during the Covid‑19 pandemic, but Fashion Parade is flipping the script. Started in 2021 by the 23‑year‑old Lumin Hew as a simple online search for like‑minded peers, it has grown into a 100‑strong community transforming textile waste into playful, creative projects.
Hew’s approach skips the usual sustainability guilt trip and makes it about connection: Anyone from Gen Zers to seniors is invited to roll up their sleeves and make something together. Case in point: Fashion Parade has drawn more than 1,000 contributors to its signature The Art Of Everyone exhibition – a tapestry of portraits made using discarded textile waste – that has been shown at the likes of Singapore Art Week. Hew and her team have also collaborated with elderly folks to upcycle textiles and the results will be staged at an exhibition held at Jalan Besar Community Centre this January.
Lumin Hew is making sustainable fashion less about guilt and more about belonging. By inviting people from all walks of life, from students to retirees, to join her projects – from giant textile installations (top right corner) to hands‑on workshops (top row, middle photo) – Fashion Parade proves that eco‑consciousness can be artful, collaborative and inclusive.
“We’re seeing a rise in open‑mindedness towards second‑hand clothing across all ages, with kids being the ones educating parents about circularity and intentionality,” she says. “We’ve worked with students as young as those in primary school, and when you plant that seed of awareness early, the future looks a lot more hopeful.”
THE EXPERIMENTAL ANIMATOR CHAMPIONING INDEPENDENT ART-MAKING: EXYL
Experimental animator and programmer Exyl has made it a point to push for creatives to make work for themselves. “You can make an animation for $500 with one friend, a camera and some software; it’s not always the tens of thousands of dollars people imagine it takes,” says Exyl. “I want the culture of independent‑making to flourish because so much energy currently goes into working for clients that it’s leaving people with nothing for themselves.
If you’re after the glossy, Pixar‑polished school of animation, Exyl is not your storyteller. A Rhode Island School of Design graduate and winner of the Terri Schwartz Asian Film Award at the prestigious Ann Arbor Film Festival, the 25‑year‑old animator’s painterly films sit somewhere between dream logic and quiet unease. Originally trained in painting, Exyl (formerly known as Elizabeth Xu Yuan Li) brings those instincts into animation, creating works that feel tactile, slightly absurd and emotionally off‑kilter – where everyday gestures loop, glitch and slip into the surreal. But accolades are secondary to ethos. Exyl actively champions art that’s usually dismissed as “cheap”, unmarketable or awkwardly strange, be it through their own uncanny films or carving out space for small voices by bringing the trippy Transfiguration International Film Festival to Singapore for the first time last November.
A still from Exyl’s 2023 work, Acid Green. The roughly eight‑and‑a‑half‑minute short drops viewers into a stop‑motion world, where a lone human figure waits at an old‑school bus stop (the ones from the 1990s, with orange roofs and seats), before it slowly becomes a strobic dreamscape that includes a giant, disjointed dog head joining the human in waiting for the bus that never comes.
TELL US ABOUT SINGAPORE’S ANIMATION SCENE RIGHT NOW.
“My sense is that the schools follow too rigid a path. They want students to come up with a storyboard, a logline and a script, and then funnel them through a tight process that prepares them for industry work rather than independent work. But you can’t compete with places like Indonesia, the Philippines and South Korea when it comes to sheer scale and cost. For example, when Lucasfilm shut down its Singapore operations in 2023, it was a big blow, as it was one of the few truly major international VFX (visual effects) studios here. Even the gaming industry outsources work because it’s cheaper elsewhere.
When you prepare people for industry work, it takes up so much energy that it makes it difficult to make your own work. Independent work requires a totally different framework. I think investing everything into being streamlined for a multinational industrial process will backfire. We can’t compete with artificial intelligence or the lower rates in other countries. On a personal level, art‑making sustains me in a way that isn’t economic. Wanting something divorced from economic activity can save people.”
ARE THERE ENOUGH PLATFORMS FOR INDEPENDENT MAKERS IN SINGAPORE TO SHOW THEIR WORK?
“In Singapore, there are many: Asian Film Archive’s Singapore Shorts film festival, the Singapore Youth Film Festival, the Singapore International Film Festival, visual arts centre Objectifs, and so on. I’ve also seen people in informal spaces like friends’ studios, galleries, art markets and bars like The Coup. In my opinion, there’s no short supply of platforms. The biggest problem is that nobody who isn’t a student is making the work. Everyone wants to show work, but nobody’s making it.”
THAT’S SURPRISING; I’D HAVE THOUGHT THE ISSUE IS A LACK OF PLATFORMS.
“There are plenty of platforms, but none of them are lucrative in the way that working for Netflix is. Distribution doesn’t necessarily mean money will come back to you. It’s like Spotify; musicians don’t make money unless they’re in the top 1 per cent. Even distributors like Anticipate Pictures have to choose one ‘hit’ film to support the rest of their art films. That’s the reality.”
Above: A still from Exyl’s 2022 short Conversations with a Koel Bird, a glitchy mash of real‑life footage and pen‑drawn animation in which a film‑maker abroad phones their brother to chat about the Asian koel, whose early‑morning and evening calls are part of Singapore’s soundscape. The six‑minute short netted Exyl the Terri Schwartz Asian Film Award at the directional Ann Arbor Film Festival. Below: A scene from Untitled Dirt Palace Film, an upcoming work that brings an abandoned Providence library – and its history as ground zero for the local underground punk and noise music scene – to life in full‑scale animation.
THERE IS ALSO THE TRANSFIGURATION INTERNATIONAL FILM FESTIVAL, WHICH FOCUSES ON EXPERIMENTAL ANIMATION AND THAT YOU HAD HELPED TO BRING TO SINGAPORE LAST NOVEMBER. WHAT MADE YOU DO SO?
“The fact that something like it doesn’t exist here. It’s an experimental animation festival. The problem remains that people don’t make enough work; the same two or three Singaporean animations keep getting shown at every festival … Transfiguration values ‘cheap’ film‑making. We don’t programme anything with a budget over a few thousand dollars. We value a singular, independent voice that might not be palatable to a wide audience.”
WHAT ARE YOU HOPING TO SEE MORE OF IN THE LOCAL SCENE?
“Many people don’t share their work because they think it’s not ‘finished’ or ‘good’. This is why I explicitly programme ‘bad’ work sometimes. It’s important to consume a healthy amount of bad work. It makes the process less precious. Make bad work. Go ahead and do some bad work, and only then can you evolve from it.”
WHAT ARE YOU MANIFESTING FOR 2026?
“I’m most excited to hang out! I’m so excited by all the people in the scene who are making amazing work at every level. I’m really excited to get to know more people; I spend a lot of my time trying to hang out. I also organised a party last year with my friends and I think we’re going to do it again next year, but don’t take my word for it! I love to host an event and I love to go to an event. Other than that, I’m a hermit at home. When I work, I really work. I’m in my hermit cave drawing frames for 12 hours.”
WHAT DO YOU THINK WILL BE BIG IN ANIMATION IN THE NEAR FUTURE?
“To be honest, I can’t say for sure where the scene’s going. There are too many things outside of my control to know for certain. But I do hope people find something they love so much that they can’t give it up, whether it’s animation or something else. Most of all, I hope it sparks a kind of shrieking, untameable desire in them.”
THE ARTISTS CREATING PORTABLE SCULPTURES: YI LU AND EDNA SUN
Part Time Nails founders Yi Lu (left) and Edna Sun (right) started with experimenting on each other’s nails at home, using it as a way to try new mediums outside their comfort zones (they trained in fashion and graphic design respectively). Finding this process of creating and wearing what they call “miniature sculptures” fun, they took things further by opening a studio at Pearl’s Hill Terrace in June 2025.
Over the past year, it has become increasingly clear that originality and a certain tactile physicality are the only true filters against the relentless hum of digital noise and artificial intelligence (AI) slop. In Singapore, that resistance is being carved out on the smallest of canvases: the fingernail. Part Time Nails (PTN) is a salon in name only; for co‑founders Yi Lu, 30, and Edna Sun, 31, the manicure is less of a beauty ritual and more a medium for wearable sculptures. Drawing on their respective backgrounds in fashion and graphic design, Lu and Sun operate as visual translators for their customers. Each set is a commissioned response to a client’s prompts – the duo deconstruct and remould references ranging from Wes Anderson films to Comme des Garcons collections into singular (and singularly cute) miniatures. By prioritising the obvious creativity and work of a human hand, they offer a textural alternative to the digital algorithm that we can’t help but drool over.
WHERE DO YOU THINK PTN SITS WITHIN SINGAPORE’S CREATIVE LANDSCAPE?
Edna Sun (ES): “We didn’t start PTN with the mindset that we wanted to be different. I knew we were never going to be a typical nail salon providing regular manicures; that already differentiates us. We focus much more on the art side. Think of it as contemporary art that you can’t put in a gallery; only the wearer gets to appreciate it for a few weeks before the nails grow out.”
Yi Lu (YL): “Most nail artists in Singapore do this as their full‑time job, but for us, it’s really our part‑time job. We aren’t ‘professionals’ in the traditional sense; nail‑painting is something we carve out time for and enjoy. The priority isn’t to have a massive nail business – we just want a creative outlet outside of our general practice. It’s fun to paint for people in the creative scene and show them the potential of their nails. When we have our nails done, strangers come up to us to talk. They help to create conversations.”
On the 2026 vision board of the artistic studio Part Time Nails, where manicures make the canvas: inspirations spanning avant‑garde fashion editorials to antiques and industrial design.
WHAT DO YOU WANT TO EXPLORE MORE OF THIS YEAR?
ES: “Definitely moving beyond being inspired by standard paintings. We want to be moved by everything, from products to architecture, spaces, fashion and jewellery, which is also what informed the vision board for this feature when we were putting it together. When you work with fine art, you can kind of guess how the nails will look. But if you paint a set based on more unexpected objects like ceramics or chairs, it gives us more creative free rein to interpret things in a different way.”
YL: “We started by exploring things we were familiar with. I’ve done a lot of fashion sets because that’s where my interest lies. Then, we had customers introduce us to different realms, like film. I remember that the first time I had to do a film‑based set (based on Davy Chou’s Return to Seoul), I was so stressed!”
A snapshot of Part Time Nail’s work: a set inspired by Swedish furniture designer, Gustaf Westman.
IF SOMEONE COMES WITH A SPECIAL REQUEST LIKE THAT, HOW DO YOU REACT?
ES: “We spend a couple of days researching first. If it’s a film, we do need to watch it to get a better understanding – I had a Wes Anderson request once and I rewatched Isle of Dogs just to understand the colours. It depends on how intense the reference is. Then, we come up with a custom mood board.”
YL: “The whole thing is a win‑win for us, because we learn too. We research things that wouldn’t normally be in our algorithms. We had a sound artist once and her request, based on a DJ set with projections affected by sound waves, freaked me out! Seeing how a sound artist works was really interesting. It reminded me of my time at Lasalle (College of the Arts), where we were told to be inspired by scents or music. It’s about interpreting the feeling rather than just replicating a visual.”
WHAT AESTHETICS DO YOU THINK WILL DEFINE 2026?
ES: “With the use of AI and technology in art, I think the consequence of AI being so perfect is a move towards childlike‑ness and naive art (a style created by self‑taught artists, often characterised by childlike simplicity, bold colours, flat perspective and direct, intuitive vision). It’s those flawed imperfections that make us human.”
YL: “Exactly. In contrast to the algorithm, next year will be about the ‘hand‑felt’ – cultural motifs, animal themes and anything that emphasises the five senses. Even with writing, people are craving something that feels genuine and unmistakably human. We want to see the obvious work of a human hand.”
THE FASHION DESIGNER DREAMING UP THE KOOKIEST HEADGEAR: XIN LEE
Artist and fashion designer Xin Lee, wearing one of her signature quirky toppers: an arctic fox bonnet she crocheted freehand using four different yarn fibres, improvising the shape and textures as she went
She’s the person behind some of the most playful hats you’ve been seeing on Instagram lately – think a phallic‑looking one modelled after Barad‑dur (Sauron’s tower in the Lord of the Rings film trilogy), or a swan‑shaped topper that looks like something right out of Bjork’s closet. Xin Lee, 25, has been a favourite with the independent art and creative crowd both here and in London (having done her tertiary studies there), having her work (under her textile label Public Meltdown, which she launched in 2020) appear in various indie titles in the English city as well as designing the headwear for musician and artist Weish’s lauded performance piece Stray Gods at the Singapore International Festival of Arts last year.
XIN, YOU STUDIED DESIGN AND SITUATED PRACTICE IN LONDON. HOW DID YOU GET INTO FASHION DESIGN?
“Like many kids who loved watching (the American fashion design reality show) Project Runway, there was always a part of me that wanted to be in fashion, whether as a consumer or a creator. I find fashion to be the easiest way for an individual to express themselves to the world. Putting on clothes each day is a way of showing how you feel, who you are and what you want to project today. When I finally understood that creative practices can be fluid and interdisciplinary, I used the ample time during the Covid‑19 lockdowns to start exploring my textiles practice in a fashion context. Hats came naturally to me – they’re objects of fashion we rarely see people wearing on the street, outside of a classic snapback or baseball cap. My gradual venture into fashion became a personal design challenge: to prove to myself that I can realise this little dream while still connecting it to my broader artistic practice.”
WHAT’S A PROJECT OR PIECE YOU’RE MOST PROUD OF AND WHY DOES IT STAND OUT IN YOUR JOURNEY SO FAR?
“My swan hat; definitely one of the proudest and most precious pieces I’ve made. No sketches, no real plan outside of an idea in my head that I allowed myself to take on, trusting the process of making and thinking as I go. It’s a piece that serves as a visual reminder that I shouldn’t be inhibited by the fear of an idea not ending up the way I envisioned. I just push through, and let the inner words of self‑encouragement and self‑soothing bring me to the end point.”
Lee’s vision board for 2026 brings together images both old and new, and all deeply personal: from her grandma’s steamed fish dish – a long‑standing obsession – to photographs captured on her travels or during quiet walks around Singapore, and some of her own illustrations and headwear that she’s particularly proud of. What unites them all, says Lee, is the sense of escapism they inspire.
YOUR LABEL, PUBLIC MELTDOWN, IS STILL REALLY YOUNG. HOW DO YOU BALANCE YOUR ARTISTIC VISION WITH THE COMMERCIAL DEMANDS OF RUNNING A FASHION LABEL?
“Honestly, it’s one of the hardest realities of trying to make a living from your art. I sometimes wonder if it’s even possible without giving up a part of yourself. Starting with crochet showed me quickly that making a sustainable income purely by hand was almost impossible – labour, materials, profit margins and consumer expectations rarely align. I had to ask myself: what matters more, making the money or making what I want, when I want? Choosing the latter means accepting that something will give. It’s tough, because our world equates money with value, and that can weigh on you. But I’m learning, and I’m optimistic that I’ll eventually find a balance between the two.”
WHAT’S NEXT FOR YOU?
“I’m releasing a fashion film, for a few garments I made this year, with Singaporean film‑maker Izzy Osman in early 2026. I’m also going to get back into making more visual art for an Art Outreach exhibition with artists Anna du Toit and Velda Phua. Before that, you can catch us at the art market Labour Block this January at *Scape!”
ALL INTERVIEWS HAVE BEEN EDITED FOR BREVITY AND CLARITY.
This article first appeared in Volume 6 (Jan/Feb 2026) of F ZINE.
TEXT & COORDINATION KENG YANG SHUEN PORTRAIT PHOTOGRAPHY LAWRENCE TEO UNLESS OTHERWISE STATED ART DIRECTION JONATHAN CHIA HAIR & MAKEUP FOR ASHLEY, NATALYN & JOASH SARAH TAN