Art Is + Geraldine Kang

SP Blog

SP Blog presents a new series, "Art Is +": an attempt to view art through the eyes of artists and writers themselves. In wide-ranging interviews with vital new artists and writers from both Asia and the USA, Jade Onn ushers these voices to the forefront, contextualizing their art with the experiences, processes, and motivations that are unique to each individual artist. "Art Is +" encourages viewers and readers to appreciate art as the multitude of ways in which artists and writers continually engage with our world and the variety of spaces they occupy in it. Read our interview with Symin Adive here.

Geraldine Kang is a Lecturer at the Nanyang Academy of Fine Arts in Singapore, who earned her MFA at Parsons School of Design, The New School, in New York City. In this interview, Kang reflects on the challenges of creating socially-engaged art and the uncomfortable but necessary process of holding oneself accountable to one’s own privilege. Her introspective works examine her relationship with migrant domestic workers in Singapore. Geraldine’s work can be viewed on her website.

“the silver lining in all of this is that I came out
having been really schooled on privilege”

Jade Onn: When did you first realize you were drawn to art and, even more specifically, to photography, which seems to be the medium you currently use the most?

Geraldine Kang: I’d have to say during junior college. My journey into art is actually a really strange one and, also, quite abrupt, because I had never received any kind of arts education before I did my undergrad—not even ‘A’ level art or whatever. I had an interest in photography, I picked it up in JC, and then I entered [university] with a photography portfolio which was so basic! Looking back at it now, I’m surprised I even got in (laughter)

JO: Do you remember what it was that sparked that initial interest in photography?

GK: Yeah, so I started by taking these portraits of my friends in school, and they weren’t the “pretty” kind of portraits. At that time, I realized that I was intuitively looking for something that was much deeper within, whatever it was that I was photographing, and my classmates or whomever I was photographing seemed to respond really well to the images—again, not because they were pretty but because they spoke to something deeper.

JO: Cool! And how different was it, later on, trying to study photography in Singapore, and then New York? How do the two compare?

GK: What’s interesting is that a lot of the faculty that I trained under in ADM [School of Art, Design and Media, Nanyang Technical University] were actually trained in the States. Particularly in New York. I remember that one of the profs that I worked really closely with trained in New York, so I guess a lot of the curriculum that I received [in Singapore] was very America-centric, with a lot of art- and gallery-focused practices. It was a specific kind of way to work with photography. By the time I got to New York for my Masters, photography was no longer the only medium I was working with, even though I was still thinking through the process of photography, or language, or words—just metaphors that I picked up from photography. So by the time I got to my Masters, I had already branched out into other things like installation, sculpture, and also publications, working with texts and all that.

I guess it’s difficult to answer that question because I did not study (just) photography in New York. I was in a fine arts course and so I was studying with people from all kinds of artistic backgrounds. Although I guess, in hindsight, a background in photography could have been helpful because the work that I ended up doing was still quite anchored in photography anyway—sorry, I kind of do this back and forth thing.

JO: No, I do the exact same thing! (laughter) So I guess my next question would be: did you always intend to continue your studies in New York? Especially since a lot of your undergraduate lecturers and professors trained in New York/America as well.

GK: Well… no! (laughter) When I was doing my Bachelors, I didn’t know that I would be doing a Masters, I didn’t know how long I would be practicing even. Because, you know, in Singapore, the (artistic) climate makes it pretty hard to sustain a practice and all that. So I guess the decision to go to New York was really rooted in personal decisions. I had a boyfriend and both of us felt like it was time to go overseas, get the cert, and just experience living abroad and all that, and so both of us tried to find a city that could accommodate both of our interests, and New York turned out to be that city.

I think, on hindsight, the kinds of tensions that I experienced during my MFA program really came out of the choice to study in New York. And what I mean by that is: when I was there [in New York], I kind of wished that my classmates had more different types of practices. Because everyone usually comes to New York wanting to be in a gallery, wanting to make it big, they’re really into that whole speculative process of the art market and all that… and by the time I was in my MFA, the work that I was doing—like the stuff with the migrant workers—really did not fit into that model. So even though class discussions and faculty members did have practices that touch on community, or socially-engaged type of work, the way that the program was structured did not really allow for that kind of work to be produced. I think that created a lot of dissonance, for me. And, in general, because of how people go to New York assuming that you’re going to sell work, I was accused a lot of exploitation.

JO: You mean by the art community here in New York?

Geraldine Kang, Live-in (Mattress provided), 2017- . Digital. Courtesy of Geraldine Kang. © Geraldine Kang

GK: Yeah. It wasn’t everyone, it was just those louder voices in class. But still, I felt like there was a very strong reaction to a person of relative privilege trying to address the conditions of a more marginalized group that I clearly benefit from. So what I mean by that is that if, for example, I had entered a program that focused a lot more on social practice, I think I could have come out with much more different ideas. I think that some of my anxieties could have been addressed on a deeper level, maybe I could have got more guidance on photography or trying to position myself as someone who is not necessarily an artist—at least not in that conventional sense.

JO: That’s really interesting and, actually, one of the questions I wanted to ask you was: what was it like? Specifically, regarding your photography series about migrant workers and the process of creating them while in New York, because these series are obviously very rooted in Singaporean contexts. I mean, you could argue that it [the series on migrant workers] could also reflect a more general Southeast Asian social issue but it’s very obvious, at least to a Singaporean, that the subjects of these series are tied to local consciousness and circumstances. So I was wondering what it was like trying to pursue this project from America.

GK: Right… hmm… So on one level, there was obviously the cultural disconnect between me and my classmates (in New York), so I found myself having to contextualize a lot. Not only about the situation of migrant workers, but also justifying the way I was approaching my work to ensure, or to reassure everyone, that I was going about this in an ethical way.

JO: And did that, I mean, it obviously affected your process, because you constantly had to explain yourself, but did that have any significant impact on the final product, or on specific decisions you made along the way? 

GK: Well, I was about to add that the distance also played a part in that. (laughter) It was very difficult for me to work in New York and have to liaise with someone, or a group of people, in Singapore who would help me do things. And, also, being mindful of my deadlines, not being able to not do well because I was under the NAC scholarship (because, with the scholarship, you can’t get below a certain grade and all of that). So, yeah, there were all these factors. I tried my best to come back [to Singapore] during all of my breaks, just to make as much work as possible, and then go back to the States and figure it all out.

JO: That sounds incredibly stressful.

GK: Yeah, but I guess the silver lining in all of this is that I came out having been really schooled on privilege. What I didn’t appreciate was that, in the American context, the closest thing [to the concept of migrant workers] is slavery. So people [in New York] were coming from that perspective but, technically, it isn’t. Not in the historical sense of what slavery is.

“And I think I was perhaps naïve enough to believe
that I could embody both—
this distant researcher and also someone
who is economically tied to [the migrant worker].”

So the woman whom I ended up working with for my thesis project used to be a domestic worker and she actually used the word “slavery”—[she said] that Singapore practices slavery. And I found that interesting because I wouldn’t say that my parents nor myself are slave owners or slave-employers. My family also has a domestic helper and I think this is why I began all of this in the first place—because it’s just completely endemic to who I am as a person.

The purpose of the project was really to provide a space where someone who embodies and identifies [with] that position [of being a migrant worker] can say certain things without fear of repercussion. This entire process really made me think about what I should be doing or what I should not be doing and, I guess, on a more fundamental level, “what is art?” and can art be doing anything for this issue. Because it is so much about the voice of the artist and all that. I remember there was this one project where I tried to involve my family’s own helper and she and I have a very complex relationship. Because I’m in a position of power, but I’m not her employer. I don’t pay her and I’m not the one who sets out the job scope and all that, but if I say something, she has to listen to me because I am the child of the employer. Yet there is a casualness and an informality [about this relationship] that does not exist in her relationship with my parents and we are actually quite close in age, which is both jarring and interesting [because] it allows for a certain kind of intimacy (because of our age proximity).

I wanted to involve her in this process and I wanted to make this installation that would be sort of like a spatial portrait of 2 things (which, in hindsight, doesn’t make sense but anyway): a representation of a more generic experience of the living conditions of a domestic helper (through my eyes) and then also a subjective portrait of her. So you can see how that might not really make sense when conflated in the same piece but, anyways, I wanted to ask her [domestic helper] if she would be willing to respond to certain questions about her stay. And I think I was perhaps naïve enough to believe that I could embody both—this distant researcher and also someone who is economically tied to her. And a lot of people (in New York) were like “no! she [domestic worker] obviously needs to listen to you and participate because she feels obliged out of this employment contract,” but I was like “no! you don’t understand our relationship and she can actually say no to me,” and I think it was really difficult for people who were not from Singapore, or places like Hong Kong or whatever, to understand because they really can’t see it that way. But I accepted that it was naïve on my part, and perhaps too ambitious. So I decided to can that entirely and work with someone who wasn’t tied to me in that way.

For me, the problem is getting people who employ domestic workers to talk about this. I really wanted to embody that perspective, so I think my classmates also really challenged me to talk about my own experience and my family, and I think that produced very valid criticism. But I think that, at that point in time, I was not ready to take on that challenge, because I had gotten such violent reactions from people and felt that the climate [in the classroom] was unsafe. And also, within myself, I wasn’t ready. I didn’t have the words and I don’t think my family was ready—like I wanted to tell this story about my grandma, who did something that was really not nice to one of our helpers, and, out of courtesy and respect, I asked my parents if I could share this story and they said no, because of “face” and everything. So there’s all that and so many cultural forces that I just really didn’t know how to address in the context of the program and [in addition to] having all the limitations on time and all that.

JO: Like you said, that sounds like a very ambitious project and, in recent years, I feel like conversation around this subject has been getting louder and it has been gaining more traction, but there is still very much a kind of privilege that Singaporeans aren’t exactly sure how to talk about yet. Because, to varying extents, we’re all complicit and even when we do recognize injustices, there is the struggle of trying to find the right words and, from your perspective, trying to do that from America where they have established their own specific vocabulary for talking about social issues.

So, just backtracking a little bit, let’s talk about the series you’ve done on the subject, specifically “Live-in.” It’s described as an ongoing project (on your website). Does that means you’re still developing it?

GK: So my work has actually been really slow since I came back to Singapore, because I dove into a full-time job and, as of now, it’s really just a matter of not having the energy or space to do this. But that may actually be a good thing. I’m happy with where the work is right now and whatever ideas I had for this project, for expanding on it, really doesn’t pertain to the photography itself. I think it’s more of using the photographs to facilitate a more participatory experience—where the audience is asked to talk and air their views, and discuss.

So I actually met up with Heng Leun and Yi Kai of Drama Box, and I was kind of hoping to work with them because participatory theatre is really their thing and they’ve actually done work on migrant workers before. But I think one thing that Heng Leung said, which I also know and have identified, is that it’s very hard for people who are in the position of the so-called “oppressor” to really discuss and examine their position. That’s really where I’m coming from. I want that kind of conversation to take place but I don’t know how to make that happen.

I also thought of [conducting] a listening circle, a really informal one, that is just topically focused on domestic help, using my photographs [from “Live-in”] as a starting point.

Geraldine Kang, Aesthetic Screening, 2017- . Digital. Courtesy of Geraldine Kang. © Geraldine Kang

JO: Yeah and, speaking of your work in “Live-in,” I thought it was really interesting looking at that next to another one of your projects, “Aesthetic Screening.” With “Live-in,” it’s so bright and light, and there’s this whiteness across all of the pictures while, with “Aesthetic Screening”, it’s the complete opposite – the pictures are all taken at night, so they’re all really dark with lots of shadows, but both deal with the same topic of migrant workers. I think that’s really telling of how veiled these issues are, in various ways, and I feel like you encapsulated that idea with “Neither In nor Out” and gave it a voice. Specifically, Rolinda Espanola’s voice. So how did this collaboration come about?

GK: Well, I came out of all the criticism wanting to invite people to really speak about injustices they had witnessed from the perspective of someone who was privileged and who’s complicit in the whole system. And so I came out with this open call for people to provide these statements and I sent the call to Shivaji (Shivaji Das, who is the main organizer of the migrant workers poetry competition), and he himself is from Bangladesh and he migrated to Singapore, so, being a migrant himself, I think he took it upon himself to generate some buzz among the migrant community.

So Shivaji actually connected me to Rolinda, because the 2 of them actually work very closely. Shivaji had also heard the stories from Rolinda (about the unjust dynamics taking place in her employers’ house), so he sounded [this project] out to her and she was like “ok.” She was also ok [with talking about it] because, by that time, she had already decided that she would like to perform. So that’s how we met.

JO: I see… so then you just did everything else via online correspondence?

GK: Oh, no, this was in Singapore! So I came back for a month in the winter, in 2018 (oh my gosh, I only graduated this year! It seems so long ago!), and then I was gathering all these interviews from different people.

JO: Ahh, I see. So speaking of Rolinda and migrant workers’ performance, there’s this woman, Mayrhose Coronado, who is a domestic helper in Singapore and she got a lot of attention just a couple months ago [August 2019] because I think one of the local media outlets did a feature on her about her Instagram and photography. And I think it’s really interesting because there is this idea of “this person is a migrant worker BUT they are also a photographer, or BUT they are also a poet”—

GK: Exactly.

JO: So what are your thoughts on that? Because, on one hand, this kind of coverage is giving space to their [migrant workers’] voices, highlighting their work and it is kind of humanizing, this act of recognizing them as more than their labor. But at the same time, the “but” kind of reflects the prejudice that a lot of societies still have toward these migrant workers.

GK: Yeah… some times it baffles me that you still have to humanize someone in that position because, to me, it’s already obvious. Unfortunately, I think that, because of how migrant communities are so segregated from everyone else, there is that distance and they remain objectified as instruments of the economy. So while some people who think about this a bit more already realize that it’s super obvious that they [migrant workers] are human and do a lot more things – like they are educated, they have families etc – I think this is the tone that is still necessary to bring home a point right now.

JO: Right.

Screenshot of video by Geraldine Kang, Neither In nor Out (08:08), 2019. Digital. Courtesy of Geraldine Kang. © Geraldine Kang

GK: Obviously, we have to go beyond the “these people are also human!” argument, because, no shit, sherlock. 

(laughter)

JO: Right. So, with “Live-in,” you specifically highlighted that live-in rule and I was wondering if you could speak more about that because I think that this is something that a lot of people are aware of, to the point of normalizing it so we don’t even notice it anymore. But that is also something that you were trying to convey with your work—the idea of living spaces being very ambiguous to domestic helpers and the question of what are the implications and the forms of exploitation they could be exposed to due to the circumstances as a result of this rule.

GK: The live-in rule bothers me because, firstly, the domestic helper is the only employment position that has that mandated rule and it was crafted, supposedly, for the convenience of the helper (to save money on travel and whatever but, in my opinion, is more so for the convenience of the employer. And what bothers me about this rule is that there really aren’t any clear regulations on how a family should house someone. The wording is quite vague in the official documentation, which gives employers a lot of room to skirt around. Understandably, because a lot of us don’t live in big spaces [in Singapore], so then there’s the problem of whether or not you have space to house someone properly. Or, if everyone in your family is sharing a room, is it then ok for a helper to share a room with someone. And then, I guess this differs from employer to employer, but the fact that they are mandated to live with you also means that you have control over when they can enter and exit your home, and that results in, I mean, I’ve heard a lot of cases where maids get locked in and are just not allowed to go out, so it’s really extreme isolation on the part of the helper. Especially if she is new.

Also, the living and working spaces for the helper are conflated into one, which makes the working hours and boundaries really blurred. And I think it’s been recorded in official documentation before, but it’s really hard to regulate the working hours for a domestic helper because, if we say that domestic helpers can only work from 8 to 6, or from 2 to 10 or whatever, there’s this whole other part of the day where you don’t have the help. But then every other form of employment also has some kind of compensation for work that’s extended beyond their “regular hours”. So yeah, there are rules but they don’t protect the domestic helper.

“They treat us [like] everything they buy. Everything
[is] in the contract so you don’t have choices.”
—Rolinda Espanola in “Neither In nor Out”

JO: Yeah and, like what you were saying, although this rule is mandated by a larger governing authority, it does very much feel like this rule is placing the power in the employers’ hands. I think there’s a really interesting relationship between that power dynamic and the space that is afforded to the domestic helpers’ stories, which is what I feel like your work gets us to question.

GK: Thank you!

JO: So, besides Drama Box, which you mentioned earlier, how else do you envision this project moving forward?

GK: Well, a few months ago, just before I left New York, I was telling a few friends that a dream project of mine is to make a film about the employer’s child and the employee growing up together. Essentially, my story.

I mean, I just kind of got this idea from watching films like “Ilo Ilo” and the Alfonso Cuarón one, “Roma.” They’re great films which I think really try to create empathy for the position of the domestic helper in different contexts, but what I think doesn’t really get said is this story of two people growing up together in really different social situations, while living in the same house and having to grapple with the economic and emotional ties. So what I noticed in “Ilo Ilo” and “Roma” is that the filmmakers include themselves in the film, I mean, Anthony Chen’s film wasn’t autobiographical but Alfonso Cuarón’s film was about him as a child and having this domestic helper at home. But [in “Alfonso Cuarón’s film], he remains a small boy and he doesn’t grow up. Even in Anthony Chen’s film, the boy remains a boy and doesn’t grow up but, as adults, it’s different. So that remains a dream for me. But, I don’t know, then again there’s the question of whether a film is the best way to go about it, why not just write a book? I mean, it would be cheaper (laughter).

I watched “A Land Imagined” as well and so I was having these discussions with faculty [at NAFA] and then there was one faculty member who said “yeah, you make all these films, but what gets done?”

JO: Oof. There it is.

GK: Like, “what next?”. And maybe that’s a bit cynical, but I think I want to try to do this in a way that doesn’t involve a huge amount of capital, if that makes sense. Not just for me, but so that it doesn’t become this whole process of just trying to recoup money.

JO: Yeah, I think that there is something really interesting that may be worth thinking about which is that, while people may criticize from the perspective of “why aren’t you giving this space to their voices? Why should you take up space with your own voice?”, another way to look at it is: if you don’t also engage with the privileged, how can you change the powers behind the system? And, when you talk about the film you dream of making, I think it could potentially be a way to force people to confront the uncomfortable powers of their positions. As you said, the children in the films we currently have remain children, which kind of allows the excuse of “well, they’re children, so they can’t do anything—”

GK: Exactly. But, as adults, it’s different.

Screenshot of video by Geraldine Kang, Neither In nor Out (09:53), 2019. Digital. Courtesy of Geraldine Kang. © Geraldine Kang

Jade Onn is a recent graduate of Columbia University, where she studied English and Political Science. She currently works at the Poetry Society of America and is always happy to exchange notes with anyone on the culture of identities, new books, and houseplant care.