The Sixth Asia Pacific Triennial of Contemporary Art

76 Cheo Chai-Hiang Cash converter Cheo Chai-Hiang is interested in the processes and practices of making art. His exploration of the tradition of Conceptualism stems from a personal commitment to independent critical thinking. Cheo belongs to a generation of Singaporeans who could choose between the English and Chinese education systems; he says he is ‘fortunate to have been educated in the Chinese system’, one which encouraged a world view informed by traditional Chinese ethical and philosophical values. 1 A prolific writer in both Chinese and English, Cheo uses linguistic cues, textual associations and idiomatic wordplay as the basis for his work, which at first glance often appears deceptively simple. Working with everyday objects as raw materials for his sculptures and installations, Cheo defines his art by his own terms — terms he is also not afraid to challenge. When he first left for the United Kingdom to study at the Brighton Polytechnic in 1972, it was precisely to rethink preconceived ideas of art. His early work 5’x5’ (Singapore River) 1972, for example, consisted of a set of instructions for the exhibitors to draw a square measuring five feet by five feet, partially on a wall and partially on a floor. Its rejection by the Modern Art Society revealed the conservative views of the local art world at the time. Art historian TK Sabapathy has described Cheo as: . . . among the first in Singapore’s art history to advocate cultivating critical, questioning attitudes in the practice of art [and] advanced these attributes as necessary, requisite conditions for developing that practice. 2 Cash Converter 2009, Cheo’s work for APT6, is comprised of six sculptures from a series that Cheo has been developing for the past five years. In this work, he evokes the sort of street scene which can still be found in parts of Singapore, boxing it up neatly for the foyer of the Gallery of Modern Art. The individual sculptures are pieced together using seductive neon lights, found objects and polished steel fixtures, suggesting shophouse signage, 3 reminiscent of an all-too-familiar way of life — the raw hustle and bustle, glowing heat, shiny trinkets. Cash Converter shows the layering of various disparate elements, which, on the one hand, makes perfect material sense when placed side by side, but on the other accentuates a competitive spirit as each fights for space and attention. One component, Dang Dang (Mirror Effect) 2009, is a commanding piece with its two iconic ‘ 當 ’ ( dang ) signs written in traditional Chinese, characters still commonly used as signage by pawnshops in Singapore. Cheo draws attention to the subtle relationships formed between individual characters by strategically adding words before and after the sign — it now reads shang dang (‘conned’) and dang dai (‘contemporary’). The visual juxtaposition of the traditional script ‘ 當 ’ ( dang ) with the simplified scripts ‘ 上代 ’ ( shang dai ) is striking. Cheo grew up learning traditional Chinese in school, and belongs to the shang dai (‘previous generation’). 4 He encourages us to contemplate the significance of juxtaposing the two seemingly unrelated words ‘conned’ and ‘contemporary’ — who was conned, and by whom? In Fei Chang Ku 2007, another element of Cash Converter , the artist makes a pun on the pronunciation of the Chinese word ‘ 哭 ’ ( ku , which translates as ‘cry’) and the English word ‘cool’. ‘HuaYu Cool!’ (Mandarin Cool!) was the theme for the 2004 Speak Mandarin Campaign to encourage English-speaking Chinese Singaporeans to improve their Mandarin language skills. Initially launched in 1979 to encourage dialect-speaking Chinese Singaporeans to speak Mandarin, the campaign has in recent years shifted its focus to Chinese Singaporeans who grew up speaking English. Anxious to keep up with the opportunities a global city presents, Singaporeans have embraced the English language, which has become the default lingua franca for many, widening the gap between the current and previous generations. After living and working in Europe and Australia for almost two decades, Cheo returned to Singapore to find a more anglicised audience who did not always understand the Chinese expressions used in his work. The ambivalent role of the Chinese language in Singapore raises the question: are Singaporeans encouraged to speak better Mandarin now in order to reconnect with their elders or to simply improve the facilitation of business transactions? Cheo’s works are rooted in contemporaneity ( dang dai ), but pay homage to the previous generation ( shang dai ). There is humour and play in Cash Converter , but underlying it is quiet reflection and pathos. Perhaps Cheo is subtly alluding to the economic agenda behind cultural policy, urging us to think about its real cost, or maybe he is merely trying to entice us with his bright neon sculptures, as any shop owner would a customer. Yvonne Low Endnotes 1 Cecily Briggs, ‘The thirty-six strategies: Thinking in the midst of things’, in Cheo Chai-Hiang: The Thirty Six Strategies [exhibition catalogue], Casula Powerhouse Arts Centre, Sydney, 2000, p.21. 2 TK Sabapathy, ‘Cheo Chai-Hiang: Agent of change’ in Cheo Chai-Hiang: The Thirty-Six Strategies , p.15. 3 A shophouse is a terraced two-storey building with a shop or eating house on the ground floor and living quarters above. 4 By combining the added characters shang ( 上 ) and dai ( 代 ), the phrase now reads shang dai ( 上代 ) (‘previous generation’).