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369 DAYS WITH YOU
2026
Charcoal on linen
180 x 180 cm
In this intimate vignette, Wong transforms the HDB void deck, typically a space of public transit, into a site of fragile domesticity. An Ah Lian and Ah Beng rest upon a woven mat surrounded by the specific material culture of their time. The composition relies on a sharp juxtaposition.
In the foreground, the couple exists in a suspended state of intimacy and need. In the background, a passerby in office wear hurries home and averts his gaze. This figure embodies the accelerated rhythm of Singapore’s economic progress, a rhythm the central figures have stepped out of.
By capturing the Ah Lian’s confrontational yet restless stare, Wong monumentalises the vulnerability of “youths-at-risk.” The title, blurring a romantic anniversary with the numeric code of a secret society, suggests that within this subculture, the search for intimacy and belonging are inextricably linked.
Charcoal on linen
180 x 180 cm
In this intimate vignette, Wong transforms the HDB void deck, typically a space of public transit, into a site of fragile domesticity. An Ah Lian and Ah Beng rest upon a woven mat surrounded by the specific material culture of their time. The composition relies on a sharp juxtaposition.
In the foreground, the couple exists in a suspended state of intimacy and need. In the background, a passerby in office wear hurries home and averts his gaze. This figure embodies the accelerated rhythm of Singapore’s economic progress, a rhythm the central figures have stepped out of.
By capturing the Ah Lian’s confrontational yet restless stare, Wong monumentalises the vulnerability of “youths-at-risk.” The title, blurring a romantic anniversary with the numeric code of a secret society, suggests that within this subculture, the search for intimacy and belonging are inextricably linked.
24 SEVEN
2026
Charcoal on linen
180 x 180 cm
Reimagining Chua Mia Tee’s National Language Class (1959), Wong replaces the diligent optimism of nation-building with the sleepless drift of the "24/7" era.
The blackboard’s original questions—Siapa nama kamu? (What is your name?) and Di mana awak tinggal? (Where do you live?)—now resonate with irony. Here, the search for identity is drowned out by the noise of sanctuary: TV dramas, beer, and Nokia phones. Whether escaping fractured homes or the stifling expectations of a "perfect" family, these figures turn to the group for the protection and belonging missing from their daily lives. The work captures the static left behind by Singapore's speed, where the collective hunger of the past has dissolved into a fragmented struggle for survival.
Charcoal on linen
180 x 180 cm
Reimagining Chua Mia Tee’s National Language Class (1959), Wong replaces the diligent optimism of nation-building with the sleepless drift of the "24/7" era.
The blackboard’s original questions—Siapa nama kamu? (What is your name?) and Di mana awak tinggal? (Where do you live?)—now resonate with irony. Here, the search for identity is drowned out by the noise of sanctuary: TV dramas, beer, and Nokia phones. Whether escaping fractured homes or the stifling expectations of a "perfect" family, these figures turn to the group for the protection and belonging missing from their daily lives. The work captures the static left behind by Singapore's speed, where the collective hunger of the past has dissolved into a fragmented struggle for survival.
108 SHEEP AND COUNTING
2026
Charcoal on linen
180 x 180 cm
In this landscape, we encounter three older men, survivors of the street life, seated in the exact composition of Chua Mia Tee’s Epic Poem of Malaya (1955). Wong meticulously retains the artefacts of the original masterpiece, such as the mug and the fly resting on the man’s shoulder. Yet, the context has shifted from 1955 to 2026.
The impassioned orator of the past is gone. He is replaced by aging veterans who sacrificed their youth to the oath of the brotherhood and are now left watching the world change. The inclusion of a CCTV camera anchors the scene in the present and transforms the romantic landscape into a surveillance zone.
The title, 108 Sheep and Counting, layers the numeric code of the Hai Lok San brotherhood with the metaphor of the herd. It suggests a cruel trajectory where the "lions" of the past have become the "black sheep" of the present, lingering in an epic scene that no longer has a poem to recite.
Charcoal on linen
180 x 180 cm
In this landscape, we encounter three older men, survivors of the street life, seated in the exact composition of Chua Mia Tee’s Epic Poem of Malaya (1955). Wong meticulously retains the artefacts of the original masterpiece, such as the mug and the fly resting on the man’s shoulder. Yet, the context has shifted from 1955 to 2026.
The impassioned orator of the past is gone. He is replaced by aging veterans who sacrificed their youth to the oath of the brotherhood and are now left watching the world change. The inclusion of a CCTV camera anchors the scene in the present and transforms the romantic landscape into a surveillance zone.
The title, 108 Sheep and Counting, layers the numeric code of the Hai Lok San brotherhood with the metaphor of the herd. It suggests a cruel trajectory where the "lions" of the past have become the "black sheep" of the present, lingering in an epic scene that no longer has a poem to recite.
WU JI LAI, QI KUA MAI
2025
Graphite on paper
21 x 29.7 cm
In this intricate graphite study, Wong appropriates the compositional structure of Diego Velázquez’s Baroque masterpiece, Las Meninas (1656), and transposes it into the gritty interior of a Singaporean shophouse.
Where Velázquez explored the power dynamics of the Spanish court through the act of looking, Wong reinterprets the "gaze" through the vernacular of the Ah Beng subculture. Here, the courtly gaze is replaced by the "staring game"—a ritual of territorial aggression often precipitating conflict on the streets. The central female figure anchors the composition, locking eyes with the viewer not in welcome, but in challenge.
The scene is enclosed by a "border of belongings," a marginalia that catalogues the visual iconography of the era. The title, a Romanised Hokkien phrase meaning "If you have the guts, come and try," completes the provocation. By invoking the visceral slang for courage (Wu Ji, literally "having seed"), the work transforms the passive act of viewing into a confrontation, blurring the line between the spectator and the intruder.
Graphite on paper
21 x 29.7 cm
In this intricate graphite study, Wong appropriates the compositional structure of Diego Velázquez’s Baroque masterpiece, Las Meninas (1656), and transposes it into the gritty interior of a Singaporean shophouse.
Where Velázquez explored the power dynamics of the Spanish court through the act of looking, Wong reinterprets the "gaze" through the vernacular of the Ah Beng subculture. Here, the courtly gaze is replaced by the "staring game"—a ritual of territorial aggression often precipitating conflict on the streets. The central female figure anchors the composition, locking eyes with the viewer not in welcome, but in challenge.
The scene is enclosed by a "border of belongings," a marginalia that catalogues the visual iconography of the era. The title, a Romanised Hokkien phrase meaning "If you have the guts, come and try," completes the provocation. By invoking the visceral slang for courage (Wu Ji, literally "having seed"), the work transforms the passive act of viewing into a confrontation, blurring the line between the spectator and the intruder.
The Strange Archive, exhibition view, Tanjong Pagar Distripark — group exhibition featuring 5 artists and collectives, curated by Dr. Adrian Tan, part of Singapore Art Week 2026. Photo: Ken Cheong
The Strange Archive, exhibition view, Tanjong Pagar Distripark — group exhibition featuring 5 artists and collectives, curated by Dr. Adrian Tan, part of Singapore Art Week 2026. Photo: Ken Cheong
The Strange Archive, exhibition view, Tanjong Pagar Distripark — group exhibition featuring 5 artists and collectives, curated by Dr. Adrian Tan, part of Singapore Art Week 2026. Photo: Ken Cheong
IN THE LION’S DEN (Triptych, Left Panel)
2025
Charcoal on canvas
171.5 × 186.5 cm each
Inspired by Chua Mia Tee’s Epic Poem of Malaya (1955), I wanted to stage a different kind of scene: restrained patriotism.
The men sing in unison, though it’s unclear if it’s conviction, fatigue, or ritual. The bench of rice, water, and canned food is not abundance but a reminder of how survival is measured. Beside it, the Weiqi (围棋) board speaks of vigilance and endless strategy.
Sometimes singing the same tune is belief. Sometimes it’s just easier. But when conformity becomes survival, what happens to questioning, to identity, to imagination?
-⌘-⌘-⌘-⌘-⌘-⌘-⌘-⌘-⌘-⌘-
In the Lion’s Den draws on the imagery of a majestic yet contained power: a body under watch, a state under pressure. Across three panels, men rehearse roles—donning hats, aligning their voices, mending nets. Each act suggests a quiet choreography of duty, performance, and national imagination.
The lion, Singapore’s emblem, is not depicted mid-roar but held in poised stillness. Alert, contained, ever-vigilant. Like the nation it represents, it cannot afford to rest or move too boldly. Caught between aspiration and anxiety, assertion and diplomacy, these figures occupy that delicate tension. The lion’s den becomes both sanctuary and snare.
Charcoal on canvas
171.5 × 186.5 cm each
Inspired by Chua Mia Tee’s Epic Poem of Malaya (1955), I wanted to stage a different kind of scene: restrained patriotism.
The men sing in unison, though it’s unclear if it’s conviction, fatigue, or ritual. The bench of rice, water, and canned food is not abundance but a reminder of how survival is measured. Beside it, the Weiqi (围棋) board speaks of vigilance and endless strategy.
Sometimes singing the same tune is belief. Sometimes it’s just easier. But when conformity becomes survival, what happens to questioning, to identity, to imagination?
-⌘-⌘-⌘-⌘-⌘-⌘-⌘-⌘-⌘-⌘-
In the Lion’s Den draws on the imagery of a majestic yet contained power: a body under watch, a state under pressure. Across three panels, men rehearse roles—donning hats, aligning their voices, mending nets. Each act suggests a quiet choreography of duty, performance, and national imagination.
The lion, Singapore’s emblem, is not depicted mid-roar but held in poised stillness. Alert, contained, ever-vigilant. Like the nation it represents, it cannot afford to rest or move too boldly. Caught between aspiration and anxiety, assertion and diplomacy, these figures occupy that delicate tension. The lion’s den becomes both sanctuary and snare.
IN THE LION’S DEN (Triptych, Middle panel)
2025
Charcoal on canvas
171.5 × 186.5 cm each
Life here is fast. Too many hats. We’ve learned to wear them all — to work faster, produce more, keep going.
Sometimes I wonder who gave us these hats. Who checks if we wear them right. Who we are doing this for.
Maybe this is just survival. Maybe this is what it means to live here. If we take the hats off, what is left of us?
-⌘-⌘-⌘-⌘-⌘-⌘-⌘-⌘-⌘-⌘-
In the Lion’s Den draws on the imagery of a majestic yet contained power: a body under watch, a state under pressure. Across three panels, men rehearse roles—donning hats, aligning their voices, mending nets. Each act suggests a quiet choreography of duty, performance, and national imagination.
The lion, Singapore’s emblem, is not depicted mid-roar but held in poised stillness. Alert, contained, ever-vigilant. Like the nation it represents, it cannot afford to rest or move too boldly. Caught between aspiration and anxiety, assertion and diplomacy, these figures occupy that delicate tension. The lion’s den becomes both sanctuary and snare.
Charcoal on canvas
171.5 × 186.5 cm each
Life here is fast. Too many hats. We’ve learned to wear them all — to work faster, produce more, keep going.
Sometimes I wonder who gave us these hats. Who checks if we wear them right. Who we are doing this for.
Maybe this is just survival. Maybe this is what it means to live here. If we take the hats off, what is left of us?
-⌘-⌘-⌘-⌘-⌘-⌘-⌘-⌘-⌘-⌘-
In the Lion’s Den draws on the imagery of a majestic yet contained power: a body under watch, a state under pressure. Across three panels, men rehearse roles—donning hats, aligning their voices, mending nets. Each act suggests a quiet choreography of duty, performance, and national imagination.
The lion, Singapore’s emblem, is not depicted mid-roar but held in poised stillness. Alert, contained, ever-vigilant. Like the nation it represents, it cannot afford to rest or move too boldly. Caught between aspiration and anxiety, assertion and diplomacy, these figures occupy that delicate tension. The lion’s den becomes both sanctuary and snare.
IN THE LION’S DEN (Triptych - Right panel)
2025
Charcoal on canvas
171.5 × 186.5 cm each
This panel is about the idea of a safety net. I drew the figures weaving together, knot by knot, as a way of thinking about protection, duty, and the unseen labour that holds things in place. It’s careful work, but also endless work, and I wanted that tension to remain visible in the piece.
When you think about a safety net today, do you see it as protection or entrapment?
-⌘-⌘-⌘-⌘-⌘-⌘-⌘-⌘-⌘-⌘-
In the Lion’s Den draws on the imagery of a majestic yet contained power: a body under watch, a state under pressure. Across three panels, men rehearse roles—donning hats, aligning their voices, mending nets. Each act suggests a quiet choreography of duty, performance, and national imagination.
The lion, Singapore’s emblem, is not depicted mid-roar but held in poised stillness. Alert, contained, ever-vigilant. Like the nation it represents, it cannot afford to rest or move too boldly. Caught between aspiration and anxiety, assertion and diplomacy, these figures occupy that delicate tension. The lion’s den becomes both sanctuary and snare.
Charcoal on canvas
171.5 × 186.5 cm each
This panel is about the idea of a safety net. I drew the figures weaving together, knot by knot, as a way of thinking about protection, duty, and the unseen labour that holds things in place. It’s careful work, but also endless work, and I wanted that tension to remain visible in the piece.
When you think about a safety net today, do you see it as protection or entrapment?
-⌘-⌘-⌘-⌘-⌘-⌘-⌘-⌘-⌘-⌘-
In the Lion’s Den draws on the imagery of a majestic yet contained power: a body under watch, a state under pressure. Across three panels, men rehearse roles—donning hats, aligning their voices, mending nets. Each act suggests a quiet choreography of duty, performance, and national imagination.
The lion, Singapore’s emblem, is not depicted mid-roar but held in poised stillness. Alert, contained, ever-vigilant. Like the nation it represents, it cannot afford to rest or move too boldly. Caught between aspiration and anxiety, assertion and diplomacy, these figures occupy that delicate tension. The lion’s den becomes both sanctuary and snare.
Sama-Sama, exhibition view, Whitestone Gallery Singapore — group exhibition featuring 60 artists and collectives, curated by Dr. Wang Ruobing, in celebration of SG60, 2025. Photo: Whitestone Gallery Singapore
Sama-Sama, exhibition view, Whitestone Gallery Singapore — group exhibition featuring 60 artists and collectives, curated by Dr. Wang Ruobing, in celebration of SG60, 2025. Photo: Whitestone Gallery Singapore
Sama-Sama, exhibition view, Whitestone Gallery Singapore — group exhibition featuring 60 artists and collectives, curated by Dr. Wang Ruobing, in celebration of SG60, 2025. Photo: Whitestone Gallery Singapore
GRIDLOCKED
2025
Archival Pigment Print
29.7 x 42.0 cm
✨□⌘▦⌘□✨
▦𓉛ℾⅈⅆǁ☉⋐Ԟⅇⅆ▦
⌘GRIDLOCKED⌘
▦𓉛ℾⅈⅆǁ☉⋐Ԟⅇⅆ▦
Two figures stand still,
as if they have been standing for a long time.
Their faces are not fully there.
Perhaps it is the light,
or the dust.
This work began with a question
about what remains
when meaning has worn thin.
When all the rules are still in place,
but nothing is held together.
Grid, greet, greed.
That was the rhythm that surfaced.
Not as accusation,
but as a quiet noticing —
how easily connection folds into control.
Each layer was made slowly.
Each mark an attempt to remember,
and then to forget.
A map was drawn,
then blurred.
A hand was raised,
but met with a fence.
Sometimes we call this progress.
Sometimes we call it peace.
What I wanted was to hold
the moment just before collapse.
The breath suspended,
not yet knowing
if it will be released.
This is not a protest.
Nor a lament.
It is a record of a feeling
that has no name.
Not yet.
⌘⸻⌘⸻⌘
Archival Pigment Print
29.7 x 42.0 cm
✨□⌘▦⌘□✨
▦𓉛ℾⅈⅆǁ☉⋐Ԟⅇⅆ▦
⌘GRIDLOCKED⌘
▦𓉛ℾⅈⅆǁ☉⋐Ԟⅇⅆ▦
Two figures stand still,
as if they have been standing for a long time.
Their faces are not fully there.
Perhaps it is the light,
or the dust.
This work began with a question
about what remains
when meaning has worn thin.
When all the rules are still in place,
but nothing is held together.
Grid, greet, greed.
That was the rhythm that surfaced.
Not as accusation,
but as a quiet noticing —
how easily connection folds into control.
Each layer was made slowly.
Each mark an attempt to remember,
and then to forget.
A map was drawn,
then blurred.
A hand was raised,
but met with a fence.
Sometimes we call this progress.
Sometimes we call it peace.
What I wanted was to hold
the moment just before collapse.
The breath suspended,
not yet knowing
if it will be released.
This is not a protest.
Nor a lament.
It is a record of a feeling
that has no name.
Not yet.
⌘⸻⌘⸻⌘
SIGNS AND WONDERS, SIGHS AND WANDERS
2023
Archival Pigment Print
29.7 x 42.0 cm
-(<:•~•|•~•;>)+
Signs and wonders, sighs and wanders,
Life's a mystery, endless blunders.
Contemplation, introspection,
A stride towards a flawless reflection.
Archival Pigment Print
29.7 x 42.0 cm
-(<:•~•|•~•;>)+
Signs and wonders, sighs and wanders,
Life's a mystery, endless blunders.
Contemplation, introspection,
A stride towards a flawless reflection.
ABRACADABRA
2023
Archival Pigment Print
29.7 x 42.0 cm
Archival Pigment Print
29.7 x 42.0 cm
SHEMA
2022
Archival Pigment Print
29.7 x 42.0 cm
Archival Pigment Print
29.7 x 42.0 cm
TWIST TWIST, HULLABALOO!
2022
Archival Pigment Print
29.7 x 42.0 cm
✧◦°˚٩ૈ꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱აو˚°◦.✧
In mirrored labyrinths, reflections blur,
Truth and deceit entwine (似真似假), a twisted reality.
Faces hide, identities concealed (表里不一),
Lost in shadows, where truth reveals.
In smoke mirrors (烟镜), reality distorts,
Intermingling truth and falsehood (虚实相间),
a maze to explore.
Hullabaloo! In echoes, truth is stored.
Archival Pigment Print
29.7 x 42.0 cm
✧◦°˚٩ૈ꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱აو˚°◦.✧
In mirrored labyrinths, reflections blur,
Truth and deceit entwine (似真似假), a twisted reality.
Faces hide, identities concealed (表里不一),
Lost in shadows, where truth reveals.
In smoke mirrors (烟镜), reality distorts,
Intermingling truth and falsehood (虚实相间),
a maze to explore.
Hullabaloo! In echoes, truth is stored.
BEFORE THE ROOSTER CROWS
2022
Archival Pigment Print
29.7 x 42.0 cm
Archival Pigment Print
29.7 x 42.0 cm
QUENCH NOT THE SPIRIT
2022
Archival Pigment Print
42.0 x 29.7 cm
Archival Pigment Print
42.0 x 29.7 cm
RITES AND RIGHTS
2021
Archival Pigment Print
32.8 x 42 cm
ヽ(■▽■)人(■▽■)人(■▽■)ﾉ
In cyberspace, truth obscures (虚实难辨),
darkness reigns.
Shadows sway, and rights fade to light,
Louder voices rule (人云亦云),
in digital night.
Follow the leader, in the pack's dark tide,
Right and wrong, in digital cracks reside.
Archival Pigment Print
32.8 x 42 cm
ヽ(■▽■)人(■▽■)人(■▽■)ﾉ
In cyberspace, truth obscures (虚实难辨),
darkness reigns.
Shadows sway, and rights fade to light,
Louder voices rule (人云亦云),
in digital night.
Follow the leader, in the pack's dark tide,
Right and wrong, in digital cracks reside.
ECHO CHAMBER
2021
Archival Pigment Print
29.7 x 42.0 cm
Archival Pigment Print
29.7 x 42.0 cm
TOM, DICK AND HARRY
2021
Archival Pigment Print
42.0 x 29.7 cm
Archival Pigment Print
42.0 x 29.7 cm
THE GREAT TREPIDATION
2021
Archival Pigment Print
29.7 x 42.0 cm
Archival Pigment Print
29.7 x 42.0 cm
OUT OR BALANCE
2021
Archival Pigment Print
29.7 x 42.0 cm
Archival Pigment Print
29.7 x 42.0 cm
WORK: Selected Work
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