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Monday 09:00 - 17:00 Tuesday 09:00 - 17:00 Thursday 09:00 - 17:00 Friday 09:00 - 17:00 Saturday 09:00 - 17:00

Samuel Goh, Photographer, 57 Eng Hoon Street, Singapore (2026)

10/05/2026

I left the comfort of the ocean yesterday for the mountains. The familiar background of crashing waves faded away as the windy road sloped upwards. The wind whistles as it rippled through the rice fields, turning them into seas of green, glittering waves. I turned off the highway after an hour and turned off the ignition, the sudden silence causing me to take a deep breath. I slid off my helmet and allowed my shoulders to fall. It feels different here. I look at the mountains and I’m reminded that I’m a speck of dust passing through. Suddenly my troubles don’t seem as important anymore.

The first thing I felt after stepping into Jamie’s guesthouse was how cosy it felt. A wreath of leaves wrapped around the lamps, causing warm light to fall gently on jars of utensils on the countertop and a poster that said — the mountains are home. By the faded Polaroids and handwritten postcards pasted all over, I could feel the love that had been poured into this place. It was evident by the notes left behind by the people who had made their way through at some point of their lives, some returning again and again.

The next morning, we conversed as Jamie made breakfast. I tore into the salted croissant that she had made — lightly crispy on the outside while the dough inside pulled apart like melted cheese. It had just the right amount of butter, and I found myself wishing there were more. The conversation naturally veered towards how she came to live far away from the city she grew up in, and what made her stay for more than a decade — an unusual feat considering how she used to move from one job to another.

What would make someone so sure of a choice?

I felt the fear creep up at that thought even though there was nowhere else I wanted to be. Perhaps I wasn’t willing to admit, but leaving often felt easier to me than staying.

Maybe buying the house left me with no choice to but to commit to this life, she pondered, as though she read my mind. We don’t have to worry too much about the future, all that does is weigh us down. As long as we take care of what we have now, she said, things will eventually work itself out.

01/05/2026

When I first started photography, I had lofty dreams. I toiled relentlessly towards my goals — a certain award, financial freedom, fame. It was only when I looked back then I realised that all I really wanted was to be seen. Those childhood wounds took half a lifetime to reveal themselves.

When I achieved all my goals, I was crushed, because I had all that I thought would make me happy, but I still wasn’t.

I sat in my apartment, looking around at the life I so badly wanted and now had, and I felt this deep sense of loneliness and despair. A thought quietly rose up - is this going to be the rest of my life? I realised then that all those while, I had been climbing up the wrong ladder, chasing the wrong things.

Letting go was hard initially but with practice became liberating.

I thought I’d left in search for what would bring me joy. Little did I know that what I was searching for was the person whom I had lost underneath all the social conditioning all of my life. Along the way I learned many hard lessons. I also had to face myself and see all ky failings. I met many good people, but also some who were not so nice. I think after everything, I know myself a little better, and these days surround myself with friends who can be real.

I asked myself what I really wanted and it turned out to be the simplest things - being in the sun and sea, the company of good friends, a quiet life, animals to love, a good conversation, understanding myself. It turned out that I could find deep joy in many ordinary things. I had just enough, and that’s already so fortunate in the world we live in right now.

The last month had been another cloudy period, another lesson in the making. But amongst the cloudiness there have been rays of goodness to brighten up the skies.

Here are some recent memories ✨

22/04/2026

When I first left Singapore, I instinctively made my way towards the ocean. An unspoken voice told me that it would calm the inner storms raging inside of me, and so I went. It had been years since I swam in the sea, and when I dove into the waves that golden morning, I felt like I was finally home.

I experienced my first surf only at 36 and that’s when I finally had a taste of what I saw in the surf magazines when I was a teenager. But it was really only last year after I moved to Taiwan that I could live my dream — to live by the ocean and to surf everyday. By then, I’m already 40.

Perhaps it’s too late to start at 40. I know for one that the learning curve will be so much steeper, but I don’t want to live my life with regrets. Now that I have the chance to, I’m in the ocean almost every day, trying to get better at flowing with the waves. Even if I may never become decently good, I wont stop trying. When it’s my time to one day go, I would like to be surrounded by images of the ocean and the beautiful life that I had carved out for myself.

A few days ago, I jumped at the chance to follow a friend to a longboard surfing competition at Jialeshui. I had seen the WSL last year at Jinzun, but the vibe here was totally different. The orange glow of dawn painted golden lines along the rolling waves and the sea mist made it all feel like a summer dream.

I watched a flock of white birds fly across the water the exact moment a surfer lifted off her board. She carved a line across the face of the wave as a wall of white water crumbled behind her like wild horses. It seemed like she was flying — that image will forever be etched in my mind.

I hope that one day I’ll know how that feels too.
The waves there were so different from the ones back home. They were so dreamy and seemed to stretched on forever. As I watched the long boarders glide along the top of the wave and walked gracefully to the tip of their boards, I was captivated. I had never seen surfers so elegant and graceful.

11/03/2026

當我在雕刻這把湯匙的時候，心裡一直想著我的媽媽。

從小到大，媽媽一直是與我最親近的人。回想起她的愛，最深的記憶往往都藏在她為我準備的食物裡——她為我打包帶去學校郊遊的雞塊、每年聖誕節那帶著甜甜醬汁的烤雞、還有我在當兵時，家人已經搬去澳洲，她特地為我包好並冷凍起來的粽子。

我特別記得那道從小吃到大的番茄牛肉末湯。每次我回到澳洲，媽媽總是已經把那鍋湯準備好，等著我回家。當第一口湯的味道碰到我的嘴唇時，我就知道，我回家了。天啊，現在坐在咖啡館裡寫下這些文字，眼淚卻不停地落了下來。

我在二十八歲那年離開了家。從那之後，我和媽媽見面的時間變得很少。在接下來的十二年裡，我總是忙著工作。即使我們難得相聚，我的心其實也常常不在當下。過去三年，自從我離開工作之後，我開始四處旅行，而直到現在，我們依然生活在不同的國家。我們見面的機會並不多——也許是一年一次我回家的時候，還是偶爾剛好我們都在新加坡。

當然，這樣的距離並不容易。時間過得很快，我有時會想，我們究竟還能一起度過多少時光，還能再見面多少次。每當這樣想的時候，心裡總會湧起一種淡淡的酸楚，也帶著一些遺憾。我偶爾也會問自己，當初選擇這樣生活，而不是留在她身邊，是否是對的決定。

無論我用雙手創造什麼，那對我來說都是一種表達。過去當我是一名攝影師時，我曾為爸媽拍過一些照片，那至今仍然是我最喜歡的一張。我把它貼在床前的架子上，每天早上醒來時看見它，心裡就會慢慢泛起一股溫暖。即使我身在世界的遠方，也依然能感受到他們的愛。

這些日子，我透過寫下的文字，以及我雕刻的木頭來表達自己。這把湯匙，是我對媽媽的一點感謝與愛。同時，我也希望，當她想起我的時候，只要握著這把湯匙，也能感受到我的心意與陪伴。

這把湯匙是用台東的芒果木做成的。台東是一個對我很重要的地方，是我現在的家。我從山裡的一棵樹上鋸下一小段木頭，從中取出一塊像雪一樣潔白的木。這把湯匙帶著柔和的弧度，手柄稍微厚一些，握起來更穩、更舒服。在手柄附近有一點微微的角度，使它能自然地貼合手掌的曲線。

一把握在手裡，慢慢就會覺得像是屬於自己的湯匙。

一把為媽媽做的湯匙。

17/02/2026

It’s been a month since I returned to the ocean and the mountains. In a wood cabin, I set up my room, putting up photos of family, handwritten notes and drawings from friends. For the first time in a long while, I feel grounded, like there is an anchor and life can expand.

I spend my days in the ocean or working with wood. They both gift me life lessons in unexpected ways. Within a small grove of trees I work with my axe and pieces of hinoki wood gifted from friends. I shape them down into size, meticulously chipping away with my axe until it becomes nimble enough to work with my knife. In between the rustling of the leaves and the whispers of the wind, my focus narrows and my heart calms.

It’s a kind of meditation, I realise, and also a mirror to my inner state.

Countless thoughts surface during those long periods of silence. I see the past and present me — the drive to rush, to be more efficient. I sense the pragmatism ingrained within and I start being harsh on myself. I slow down and breathe, and then I start again.

In the night I enjoy my own company in my room, the glow of the lamp softly falling on the tatami mat. Sometimes I play some music, sometimes I don’t. With my carving knife I slowly whittle away at the wood, firstly shaping it and then later, making finer and finer cuts until the spoon feels complete.

I make plenty of mistakes — cutting too deep, splitting the wood, ignoring the grain. Later on I learned that to work with wood is to listen to how the grain flows and how it wants to be shaped. It teaches me to quieter my own will and to learn to let go. Hours go by without me noticing, the very concept of time disappears. Maybe this is what it means to be living according to my own pace.

I write a story for each spoon I make — for someone going through heartbreak, beginning anew in life, embracing what is. I think about what the person is going through and I imagine how they would feel holding a spoon that is tailored to not just their hands but their heart. I hope that holding a spoon made this way feels like being embraced. In this way, every meal can also turn into precious time that we can learn to love ourselves.

14/01/2026

It’s 2026, and I’m faced with the question — now what? It feels like the phase of wandering, searching, and finding myself, has concluded with the exhibition. And for the last six months I have simply been living a very ordinary life on the east coast of Taiwan where I feel at home and at peace.

I like it here. Here my soul feels free and life is quiet and simple enough for me to handle. The people here are kind and I have the space to cook meals, learn some new hobbies, to work on my book and to reflect. And it has been a time of reflection. As the world seems to be going crazier these days, I’m find myself becoming more quiet in the online space to focus on the simple everyday — spending time in the ocean helps me maintain some calmness, and being with friends brings me a lot of joy.

Recently, I’ve been pondering on this question — am I performing? and who am I performing for? I catch myself every time I’m about to write a post, and I dig deep to find out my motivation. Am I writing because of my ego, or am I searching for validation. Am I using my words to sway the reader’s thinking, or am I trying to prove anything? Very often, after I sit with myself for a while and see my motivation clearly for what it is, I realise that there is no real need to say anything. I reflect back on my past self and see how much I have been performing — in my words, in the things I say or how I had been living. These days I’m learning to listen better when friends talk and to understand instead of trying to prove my point across. After all, I’ve been wrong and I’m often wrong — there is still so much to learn. I think that all I’m trying to do right now is to live a more honest life to myself, and perhaps along the way, learn how to become a better human being.

I didn’t take much photos this trip back to Singapore. I wanted to be present instead for all the precious moments — for the conversations; to watch my nephew so preciously interact with my mum; to remember the looks on my friends faces when we met; and to laugh till tears during board games. I guess I just wanted to know how it feels to live without a camera.

Okay, enough of my rambles 😅 Have a good year all!

15/12/2025

十二月的美好回憶 ✨

07/11/2025

I’m coasting along the familiar coastal road. The wind graze my body and rush past my ears. A song from third eye blind came on — how it’s gonna be. I don’t know why but I start crying. I think about the past two weeks and I feel a burst of joy booming in my chest so full that it hurts. The tears start streaking across my cheeks and scatter into the wind. I scream and yell into my helmet, but I really don’t know what I’m feeling. There is pain and joy and as I look up at the blue skies and I feel like I am flying. My heaving sobs carry the weight of everything I had been through, and I feel like it’s finally over. I can feel them leaving my body and return to nothingness.

The last three years have felt like being tumbled in the whitewash. I didn’t know which way was up or down. My limbs were flailing everywhere and my heart was pounding, nothing was really in control. But now I can see the light, and my head has broken above the foamy white water. It’s airy and bright and I can breathe.

I remember I lost some things but it also seems now that I didn’t lose anything. I feel like I have so much and now I’m surrounded by an embracing warmth by friendships, the black volcanic sand, the crust of ocean salt, and the blue sky that encourages my heart to soar. The darkness seems to have become a past memory and I don’t want to be in it anymore. I’m so ridiculously blessed that some days I’m afraid that it will all end. But for now I am here and I’ll cherish every day with all I have.

30/10/2025

And just like that, summer has passed.

The days have taken a turn for winter with short notice. Thin, unbuttoned, fabric shirts in sunshine yellow and summer sky blue has given way to thick wooly jumper and beanies. My days at the beach have also gradually lessened. In its place are quiet afternoons on the rattan bench, cosy conversations over meals, the assuring company of newfound friends who feel like old ones.

When I turn and look out of the window, a ripple of wind course through the leaves that glow in different shades of green and yellow. The sound rushes gently through the air and then leaves just as suddenly. The light dances on the wooden floor as round orbs shimmering and glittering, like stars. In light and shadows the sun and the earth meet each other in quiet ways that go by unnoticed. When did this love story begin? I wonder how it willend.

Footsteps patter across the wooden floor, and a dog in black and brown fur sit in front of me, licking her coat. I’ve seen this dog before. In fact, I’ve seen her a few times, ever since I came here two and a half years ago, and every time I returned. I wonder if she remembers me. She must have seen so many people come and gone, just like the seasons.

Maybe people are just seasons. We come and then go like the red of autumn and green of spring. Maybe that’s when we know when to go somewhere else, pack for another adventure, enter a new relationship.

Maybe there’s a clock inside of us that tells us it’s time.

Maybe.

But anyway, summer has gone, and winter is here.

Samuel Goh, Photographer

10/05/2026

01/05/2026

22/04/2026

11/03/2026

17/02/2026

14/01/2026

15/12/2025

07/11/2025

30/10/2025

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Monday	09:00 - 17:00
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