Singaporean artist Heman Chong has spent more than two decades building a conceptually driven, internationally recognised practice that probes the intersections of language, infrastructure, surveillance, and the everyday. Simultaneously cerebral and poetic, his work spans image-making, performance, installation, sculpture, and publishing — consistently turning towards the familiar, the overlooked, and the bureaucratic as potent sites of artistic enquiry. At the heart of his practice lies a sustained investigation into how systems shape lived experience — and how the fragmentary, the fictional, and the forgotten might offer alternative ways of seeing the world.

On view at the Singapore Art Museum (SAM) until 17 August 2025, Chong’s major solo exhibition This is a dynamic list and may never be able to satisfy particular standards for completeness surveys more than twenty years of his artistic output.  The title, appropriated from a sentence used on Wikipedia, encapsulates the fluidity and open-endedness that characterise his approach. Across nine thematic sections — Words, Whispers, Ghosts, Journeys, Futures, Findings, Infrastructures, Surfaces, and Endings — the exhibition assembles key works that challenge how we engage with time, public space, and the transmission of knowledge.

Highlights include Calendars (2020–2096) (2004–2010), a photographic archive of 1,001 eerily depopulated public spaces in Singapore, reimagined as calendar pages from a speculative future, and Perimeter Walk (2013–2024), a vast installation of 550 postcards documenting Chong’s decade-long walk around the city’s edges. Other works interrogate systems of state power, editorial control, and national identity, such as The Straits Times, Friday, September 27, 2013, Cover (2018), and The Singapore Flag (2015). Together, they offer a meditation on the constructed-ness of narratives — national, personal, and otherwise.

In this conversation with CNTRFLD.ART, Chong reflects on his formative years in Singapore, the practical and emotional realities of sustaining a long-term practice, and the frictions between memory, place, and artistic process. Speaking candidly about the pressures of working in Singapore and the importance of mental health, he also shares insights into how younger artists might navigate the region’s shifting cultural landscape.

Whether presenting stacks of books he’s read, or staging performances that exist only through oral transmission, Chong’s works remain deeply attuned to the rhythms of everyday life — inviting us to slow down, look closer, and reconsider what we take for granted.

“We are delighted to be presenting a major survey of artworks by Heman Chong within an exhibition that demonstrates the museum’s deep engagement with contemporary artistic practice… Heman’s interrogation of and engagement with underlying systems has resulted in a fascinating showcase that utilises a novelistic method found also in his practice… Having garnered recognition internationally across biennales and exhibitions both in the region and abroad, the presentation of Heman’s prolific practice over two decades reinforces the museum’s commitment to connecting local and international discourses and conditions and prompting reflection on how meaning is created and shared in today’s interconnected world.”

— June Yap, Director of Curatorial Research at SAM & Co-curator of Heman Chong: This is a dynamic list and may never be able to satisfy particular standards for completeness

CNTRFLD. Growing up in Singapore, how did your upbringing and early environment influence your decision to become an artist—and shape your ongoing interests in language, infrastructure, and everyday life?

HC. 106B Depot Road is the address where I have lived and worked in Singapore for sixteen years. The architecture embodies the most common and standard of real estate models in Singapore: HDB public housing renowned for the efficiency and density closely tied to Singapore's modernity. You can almost instantly recognise a HDB block from afar.

What I did to make this work was to sit down with an architect, Lau Jiehao, and drawing from my memory, bodily experience, and discursive description, we attempted to reconstructs the studio and home that I am most intimately familiar with by talking about it and making a scaled down 3D model from my descriptions. It is a sculpture that represents the quintessential Singaporean residential experience and encapsulates my personal history and artistic trajectory.

The HDB block is now somehow distorted and remade through my memory. The viewers can sense the echoes from the resonance and connections between those of the present and those of the past.  The reason why I brought up this work is because I’ve always seen my relationship with Singapore as a highly processed one that is often full of misalignments and distortions and fictions.

CNTRFLD. You’ve sustained a prolific practice for over two decades. What have been some of the biggest challenges and lessons in maintaining relevance through the world’s shifting political and cultural landscapes?

HC. I’m always maintained my relevance internationally by working as hard as I can, showing up as much as I can, being as responsible as I can as a person, producing a project to the best of my abilities. The rest is pretty much out of my control, and I don’t really think about it.

CNTRFLD. With the global art landscape paying more attention to Asia, particularly Southeast Asia, how do you view Singapore’s and the region’s growing influence—and what possibilities or challenges do you foresee for artists here?

HC. Affordable studio space has always been a major issue for artists in Singapore. I overcome this by working in my HDB flat, and I encourage other artists to keep their costs low by doing so. You’ll last longer. If you can afford it, please seek help from a mental health professional. Life is very stressful in Singapore with pressures coming from all sides; maintaining a presence on social media, making art, fulfilling expectations from family and friends… the list goes on. It’s important to recognise the intensity of the pace of life in Singapore and to develop tools to deal with it or choose to disengage from it in a productive manner. Stop trying to control everything. Work with what is within your control. Develop your own way of doing things rather than replicating the processes of other artists which might not be suitable for you.

CNTRFLD. Your exhibition at the Singapore Art Museum, This is a dynamic list and may never be able to satisfy particular standards for completeness, surveys over two decades of your practice. How does this show serve as a critical reflection on the everyday themes and infrastructures you’ve long interrogated, and what do you hope audiences will take away from it today?

HC. The title of this survey is actually an artwork. I appropriated this sentence from Wikipedia, where it can be found on pages that exists as lists. I feel a certain kinship with this sentence because I feel that a lot of the objects that I am interested in are objects that are constantly shifting in meaning. We often think of life as a way of maintaining stability but a more sustainable way to approach life is to understand that chaos and chance is a huge part of our lives, and that it’s better to learn to play the cards as they lay. Across the nine parts of this exhibition, all the works come together as parts within a constellation, representing significant parts of who I am. The sections include Words, Whispers, Ghosts, Journeys, Futures, Findings, Infrastructures, Surfaces, and Endings. Honestly, I’ve never had any specific expectations for the audience; they are free to take from the work whatever resonates with them.

CNTRFLD. The exhibition revisits key moments in your career while inviting fresh perspectives on your established body of work in the context of our hyper-mediated present. How do you see your earlier works differently now, when viewed through today’s lens of accelerated information and connectivity?

HC. There is a work in the exhibition that I would like to highlight that might answer your question. The work is called Perimeter Walk and it consists of 550 postcards featuring the images taken me as I observed the borders of Singapore by foot for 10 years and captured the various found objects and landscapes along the edges of the country with my camera. Beyond a single view of the island, the subject matter of the photographs includes sand walls, ubiquitous signs of surveillance, tents in uninhabited woods, workers resting by the roadside in the afternoon, and lush vegetation. These elements reflect a unique microcosm of our equatorial nation, reminding viewers of the safety zones that are defined by order, rules, and boundaries.

The images are distributed via a standard postcard format. Visitors are encouraged to touch, hold, purchase, exchange or gift them as they would treat a piece of souvenir from a trip. These images weave together a multifaceted narrative about Singapore's borders and depart from the common generic speech about Singapore that flattens the idea of Singapore. It is a gathering of images that expands the idea of Singapore, diverting the flow of stories and landscapes beyond the confines of the exhibition.  Through the exchange and circulation of these postcards, this work functions as temporary postcard store, where you can buy an artwork for $1. This is important for me that Singaporeans can obtain an artwork of mine for just $1 and that my work is not only for rich collectors.

The reason why I brought up this work is because, printed postcards used to be one of the predominant forms of how we share an image. A kind of old school social media, I suppose.  Sharing a postcard used to be the predominant way of sharing an image with someone else, except of course, it’s that much more personal where you’re sharing a memory with someone else directly, rather than pouring your heart out to everyone on IG.  Intimacy is a value that I think about a lot in my work. I would like intimacy to be enacted when someone touches one of my postcards, decides to buy it, and sends it to someone they want to reach out to.

CNTRFLD. Projects like The Library of Unread Books and works that intervene in public infrastructures reveal a deep commitment to collective knowledge and everyday politics. How do you think public engagement has evolved over your career, and what role does it play in your current projects?

HC. Each book in The Library of Unread Books was previously owned as private property and someone has decided to give up that exclusive status with the book and donate it into this common pool. Our motto is: If you have a book you haven’t read, donate it to us, and someone else will read it for you. By receiving and revealing that which people choose not to read, The Library of Unread Books is a collective gesture that addresses the distribution, access and surplus of knowledge. It is a traveling public reference library that is hosted within art spaces and museums around the world. It has surfaced in cities such as London, Seoul, Tokyo, Penang, Manila, Utrecht, Milan, Prague, Dubai and Singapore. We insist that our library functions like an epiphyte that grows on the surfaces of other institutions.

With projects like this, I often think about how museums and galleries can be seduced into dreaming of producing common space for people to gather, common tools for people to utilise, and ways of working that doesn't exhaust common resources, and in turn exhaust the possibility of community. Spaces that don’t need someone to pay to enter to stay an entire day. Spaces where they are allowed to do whatever they want.

CNTRFLD. Reflection, walking, and observing everyday life are essential to your practice. In an increasingly accelerated world, how do you create—or protect—the mental space needed for such sustained, deliberate reflection?

HC. Over the years, I’ve been engaged in cognitive behavioural therapy, which has been incredibly valuable in equipping me with mental health strategies—not just for navigating life, but also for supporting my creative practice.

I’ve learned to set boundaries, protect my time and space, and say no without guilt. These psychological tools have been essential, shaping who I am both personally and artistically. They’ve given me greater clarity about what I’m creating and why.  I believe I’ve evolved both personally and artistically. Since I see learning as a lifelong journey, I don’t view this survey show as a final destination, but rather as a meaningful pause—a moment to reflect on how I relate to the work I’ve created over the past 25 years.

CNTRFLD. Your work often operates between fiction and reality, infrastructure and imagination. Looking ahead, how do you imagine your practice evolving—especially as the intersections between the digital, political, and personal become even more complex?

HC. There’s a performance of mine that the Singapore Art Museum has collected, and we’re showing that in this exhibition. In Everything (Wikipedia), I am proposing a futile attempt to vocalise a representation of the entirety of human knowledge through a performance of Wikipedia entries. Recited by a single individual, the performance begins with the Wikipedia page of the day and follows the website’s links as a means to navigate the encyclopaedic resource. Using an electronic mobile device to access the servers of Wikipedia in real time, the performer advances across a multitude of hyperlink entries, deciding on the choice of links to follow. This action is repeated until the pre-defined hours of the performance has ended. The performance of text is experienced spatially (while in the vicinity of the performer) and durationally (the amount of time spent experiencing the artwork, with content received based on the juncture that one encounters the performer), resulting in new capacities for the reception of information.

In making the visitor’s experience of Wikipedia contingent on the performer’s chance encounter with information presented on the online encyclopaedia, I am attempting to acknowledges the exploratory and propositional nature of such digital infrastructures. Moving between hyperlinks and descending into rabbit holes (in the manner of Lewis Carroll’s Alice), information consumption quickly turns into excess.

CNTRFLD. Recalling the conditions of an information age, Everything (Wikipedia) reckons with information presented and consumed in seeming infinitude. How does the boundlessness of virtual interfaces measure against the human limits of knowledge inquiry?

HC. I am attracted to transporting digital native objects (like a Wikipedia page or a spam email) into the real world via very simple processes like making a painting or reading stuff out aloud. I think it’s a beautiful way of highlighting the relationships between IRL and our digital selves.

CNTRFLD. Identity is a complex and layered theme, particularly in Southeast Asia. How do your own experiences with identity—whether personal, national, or cultural—find their way into your work, consciously or unconsciously?

HC. I once attended a talk by Amanda Lee-Koe and Tash Aw, both novelists that I highly respect. Tash said something that really stuck with me over the years. He said that one of the questions that he hates the most is ‘Do you think you consider yourself a Malaysian novelist?’. He explained that he feels that the underlying question is quite often ‘Are you Malaysian?’.

CNTRFLD. In a recent interview, you spoke about working on numerous solo exhibitions at once. Could you share what new projects, exhibitions, or collaborations you’re particularly excited about following the SAM survey? You have a busy few years ahead, with exhibitions across North America, Europe, and Asia. Can you share more about any upcoming projects or themes you’re excited to explore next?

HC. I’m currently involved in several exciting projects. One is a book set to be published by the wonderful Ivory Press in Madrid. Another is a temporary sculpture for the Middleheim Museum in Antwerp, which will be displayed in their stunning outdoor gardens for a year. This summer, I’ll also be Artist in Residence at the Asia Art Archive in Hong Kong, where I’ll spend time reflecting on an exhibition curated by Hou Hanru at Tai Kwun Contemporary, centred on one of my favourite artists, On Kawara.

In addition, I’m working on a long-term publishing project with the bookshop Page Not Found in The Hague, which will eventually evolve into a dispersed exhibition across the Netherlands. Lastly, my work will be part of the 30th anniversary exhibition at the Museum of Contemporary Art (MOT) in Tokyo this autumn.

There are many numerous other solo shows I am working on, but I am not allowed to speak about them at the moment.

CNTRFLD. Given your trajectory, what advice would you offer to emerging artists who are trying to build a sustainable and meaningful career in the arts today?

HC. I really don’t like giving unsolicited advice to anyone, but I’ll share with you my processes that can be easily replicated if one chooses to do so:

I start each day by listening to a piece of music I’ve never heard—or never thought I wanted to hear—and I sit with it, fully present, for its entire duration.

Each week, I watch a film that challenges or expands my understanding of cinema and storytelling.  Every month, I devote myself to a single novel, taking the time to truly absorb its world and ideas.  Once a year, I spend one to three months in New York—to see art, and simply to live.  And in the spaces between all of this, I make a great deal of art—and I walk. A lot. For hours and hours and hours. Walk unafraid.

About the artist.

Born in Malaysia and raised in Singapore, Heman Chong is an artist whose work operates at the intersection of image, performance, situations, and writing. Characterised by acerbic wit, Chong’s art addresses contemporary geopolitics and the infrastructural ironies of our data-driven, networked society. His practice can be read as an imagining, interrogation, and at times, intervention into infrastructure as an everyday medium of politics.  His work has been the subject of solo exhibitions at institutions including the Singapore Art Museum, UCCA Dune, STPI, Het Nieuwe Instituut, Weserburg Museum, Jameel Arts Centre, Swiss Institute New York, Art in General, Artsonje Center, Rockbund Art Museum, South London Gallery, and NUS Museum, amongst many others.

Chong is the co-director and founder (with Renée Staal) of The Library of Unread Books, a library comprised of donated books previously unread by their owners. It was recently installed at the Serpentine Pavilion 2024, designed by Minsuk Cho, and in 2025 will be installed for the summer at MOT, Museum of Contemporary Art Tokyo.  He continues to live and work in Singapore.

With thanks to the Singapore Art Museum (SAM) for facilitating this conversation.

About Singapore Art Museum.

Singapore Art Museum opened in 1996 as the first art museum in Singapore. Also known as SAM, we present contemporary art from a Southeast Asian perspective for artists, art lovers and the art curious in multiple venues across the island, including a new venue in the historic port area of

Tanjong Pagar.  SAM is building one of the world's most important public collections of Southeast Asian contemporary art, with the aim of connecting the art and the artists to the public and future generations through exhibitions and programmes. SAM is working towards a humane and sustainable future by committing to responsible practices within its processes.