Asia’s Most Influential: Culture List
The movers and shakers shaping the post‑pandemic arts and cultural zeitgeist in Singapore and beyond
Yanyun Chen is a woman who defies definition. She was a media school student who got into puppeteering, who tried her hand at business ideation, who then took up classical art, followed by philosophy and academia, before landing on contemporary art. Today, her work reflects her disregard for imagined limits. She calls herself a visual artist who runs a drawing, animation and installation practice, with recent dives into virtual reality storytelling. Talk about being a multi-hyphenate. She was also one of the four recipients of the 2020 Young Artist Award, given out by the National Arts Council.
You have explored many mediums, from charcoal art and installations to videos. Why the variety?
Art-making is a porous and collaborative experience, and thought finds different ways of coagulating into a tangible work. Having different skills in my toolbox and brilliant collaborators and friends to work with allows me to combine stories with different storytelling techniques flexibly. An artist does not need to be limited to only one form, or only produce works that they are known for. They can be good at many things and evolve their works alongside other experts in various fields.
Your journey to becoming an artist was not a straightforward or conventional one. How do you think it has benefitted you?
Due to my meandering pursuits, I do not carry the same kind of aesthetic baggage as my peers—i am not limited to academia or the visual arts, and I am very comfortable working in various representational techniques. I guess I am very much an oddball in the contemporary art space. I don’t fit into any set spaces comfortably. I really like that and I’m always looking for the next new space to learn from.
What is it about going to an art exhibition that still excites you?
Because the list of questions I have towards my practice keeps growing longer, the chance to meet a work that offers a different perspective is enticing.
Tell us more about the piece of work that is most memorable to you.
It would be The Scars that Write Us. A week after the installation opened at an exhibition, my cousin, whose scar was on display, came to see it. When he walked into the deepest room, he started to cry. All he said was: “I get it. I really get it.” At that moment, I did not know how to respond, but I felt very clearly, for the first time, that this work is complete. I did not know what it was that I was looking for when I made the work, but right at that moment, I discovered it. I will never forget the feeling.
KEVIN KWAN
Kevin Kwan likes to downplay it, but he is a crazy rich Asian. Only an insider could have landed on a description of the exclusionary, intimate world of the ultra-affluent that’s as on the nose as it is in his bestselling book of the same name. With a great-grandfather who was one of the founding directors of the Oversea-chinese Banking Corporation (OCBC), Kwan is as old money as one could get in Singapore.
Still, the author has always insisted to the press that he is more a quiet observer than an active participant in these circles. He has claimed to have surprised even himself with the writing of Crazy Rich Asians, because its flamboyant style represents such a deviation from his natural voice, which he has described as much more minimal and precise.
Kwan got hooked on writing during his university days, when he majored in media studies and creative writing at the University of Houston. “I wrote for the college newspaper and was also active in Houston’s literary scene,” he recalls.
Upon graduation, he moved to New York and attended the prestigious Parsons School of Design, where he mingled with classmates from old-money families that were fodder for the book he didn’t yet know at the time that he was going to write.
Despite his privileged upbringing, success wasn’t instantaneous for Kwan. After moving to New York, he took a hiatus from writing. It was only in 2010 when he began to write a series of short stories that would one day evolve into Crazy Rich Asians, which was followed by China Rich Girlfriend in 2015, and Rich People Problems in 2017. Today, more than 1.5 million copies of the trilogy have been sold worldwide. Next up is the film adaptation of his 2020 novel Sex and Vanity.
“There are no shortcuts in life,” Kwan says. “You really have to put in the time and sweat into creating something that has any hope of being good. I believe this applies to any field of work. I would never have been able to write a novel straight out of college. It took almost two decades of experiences, failures, and persistence to make it happen.”
The lighthearted reads that have made Kwan’s name may not be in his preferred voice. Neither are they ever likely to become classics like the books his journalist aunt introduced him to as a teenage boy. But they certainly fulfil Kwan’s personal mission. “To create joy for myself and for others in my work and life is something I try to accomplish every day. Otherwise, what’s the point of doing anything?”
When it comes to his work,
Ivan Heng has two aspirations. The first is to encourage fellow Singaporeans to let go a little, and be a little wild. The second is for his work to become a staple in local entertainment, much like rice is in the local diet. Guided by these two goals, the naming of his theatre company, which he set up in 2000, was a no-brainer.
Today, Wild Rice is one of Singapore’s most successful professional theatre companies. Heng’s journey to becoming its founder and artistic director was one that began when he was a law student at university. When he wasn’t knee-deep in legalese, he could be found in the company of Alvin Tan, Haresh Sharma, Lim Kay Siu, Neo Swee Lin and Claire Wong, who have since become familiar names in the homegrown theatre scene today. “We were young and wanted to change the world,” Heng reminisces.
The pastime that he indulged in at leisure turned into a full-blown passion when he went overseas to study drama, and had his eyes opened to a mature professional theatre scene. He returned home determined to create the same thriving industry in Singapore. Thirteen years after he set out on this mission, his efforts were recognised when he received the
National Arts Council’s prestigious Cultural Medallion Award.
After more than two decades in the industry, Heng says that the most valuable lesson he has learnt isn’t in balancing the books of a thriving business or navigating a budding cultural scene. Instead, it’s empathy. “I get to work with the best people in the most collaborative of art forms, and it requires me to step in others’ shoes and see things from different points of view. The divided world today needs empathy more than anything.”
Indeed, the ability of theatre to forge human connections lies at the very heart of why the art form has such long-lasting allure to Heng. He describes: “We arrive as strangers and leave as a community after having shared an experience.”