17/12/2023
Many nights, midnights and weekends this year were spent at Redhill market, working through my debut attempt at mural painting. It was nothing like I expected.
Hawker uncles would shout over the hoarding to remind me to eat dinner, 加料for me because ‘吃饱饱才有力气画画’, trespass to pass me a plate of prata for supper, and offer me🍺 every now and then. I painted to classic oldies and uncles’ drunken 撕心裂肺 singing and learnt to co-exist with little creatures that crawled out from 四面八方 every night. I laughed a lot with aunties and uncles who tried to guess my age.
I got to know a team of construction workers who would pull cables to light up my work area before they knocked off, stand around to watch me paint during their breaks and share about their interests and the people they missed.
When hoarding was down, residents past and present often stopped to share their memories of Redhill with me. Kids sat around to learn to paint. And more uncles found joy in sharing with a stranger their life stories, love histories, biggest regrets, political allegiance, which candidate was their classmate, and also asking for 4digits to buy 4D.
In the middle of the night, lost souls who wandered around the neighbourhood have found a listening ear under my makeshift tentage. 👮🏻♂️ 👮🏻 on patrol have dropped by not to catch me but to offer encouragement.
I don’t live in Redhill, but I have lived through many surprise encounters with the Redhill community, and such is the most precious reward for an artist for just being present 🤍.
While I still have my reservations about the maintenance and appreciation for public art in the neighbourhood where cultural practices and priorities are deeply different, I was convinced along the way that the endeavour to bring art closer to communities to reach diverse audiences who do not roam around our arts, cultural and heritage districts is a step worth taking. To every stranger who has popped by to say thank you for painting the historical stories of Bukit Merah, you all made this journey hopeful.