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Out or Balance
2026
Charcoal on canvas
170 x 170 cm
Two figures kneel face to face on a chequered floor marked with 尋, the Chinese character for seeking or searching. Suspended between them is a translucent orb of uncertain light. A balance scale rests across the bridge of one figure’s face, holding time and an open question in an impossible position. Below, a single candle flame casts distorted double shadows, transforming the scale into a looming presence behind the figures.
The kneeling figures appear to support one another, but the nature of their relationship remains uncertain. Their gestures are almost ritualistic, as though each is maintaining a posture that must be continually rehearsed. Productivity, relentless expectation and rigid societal rules become measures of worth, yet the figures remain bound to the instability of the attempt.
The work does not establish whether the figures are enduring, performing or simply trying to maintain their position. The balance is not broken. It is simply incomplete.
Charcoal on canvas
170 x 170 cm
Two figures kneel face to face on a chequered floor marked with 尋, the Chinese character for seeking or searching. Suspended between them is a translucent orb of uncertain light. A balance scale rests across the bridge of one figure’s face, holding time and an open question in an impossible position. Below, a single candle flame casts distorted double shadows, transforming the scale into a looming presence behind the figures.
The kneeling figures appear to support one another, but the nature of their relationship remains uncertain. Their gestures are almost ritualistic, as though each is maintaining a posture that must be continually rehearsed. Productivity, relentless expectation and rigid societal rules become measures of worth, yet the figures remain bound to the instability of the attempt.
The work does not establish whether the figures are enduring, performing or simply trying to maintain their position. The balance is not broken. It is simply incomplete.
*Flap Flap*Flap Flap*
2026
Charcoal on canvas
170 x 170 cm
The Merlion is one of Singapore’s most recognisable national symbols. It is ordinarily encountered upright, monumental and functional, spouting water and standing in for Singapore. In this work, that position is disrupted. The Merlion has fallen from its pedestal and is brought into the interior of an HDB kitchen.
The kitchen places the symbol within the routines of everyday life. It is a space of cooking, eating, washing, conversation and maintenance. Against this setting, the Merlion loses some of its monumentality. It becomes strangely vulnerable, occupying the floor alongside the ordinary objects and traces of domestic life.
The work does not establish whether the Merlion is struggling, resting, fallen or attempting to rise. Its repeated movement suggests all of these possibilities without settling on any of them.
It just keeps flapping.
Charcoal on canvas
170 x 170 cm
The Merlion is one of Singapore’s most recognisable national symbols. It is ordinarily encountered upright, monumental and functional, spouting water and standing in for Singapore. In this work, that position is disrupted. The Merlion has fallen from its pedestal and is brought into the interior of an HDB kitchen.
The kitchen places the symbol within the routines of everyday life. It is a space of cooking, eating, washing, conversation and maintenance. Against this setting, the Merlion loses some of its monumentality. It becomes strangely vulnerable, occupying the floor alongside the ordinary objects and traces of domestic life.
The work does not establish whether the Merlion is struggling, resting, fallen or attempting to rise. Its repeated movement suggests all of these possibilities without settling on any of them.
It just keeps flapping.
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, Singapore, 2026.
Curated by Dr Adrian Tan. Photo: Ken Cheong.
Curated by Dr Adrian Tan. Photo: Ken Cheong.
The Strange Archive, exhibition view, Tanjong Pagar Distripark, Singapore, 2026.
Curated by Dr Adrian Tan. Photo: Ken Cheong.
Curated by Dr Adrian Tan. Photo: Ken Cheong.
The Strange Archive, exhibition view, Tanjong Pagar Distripark, Singapore, 2026.
Curated by Dr Adrian Tan. Photo: Ken Cheong.
Curated by Dr Adrian Tan. Photo: Ken Cheong.
IN THE LION’S DEN (Triptych, Left Panel)
2025
Charcoal on canvas
171.5 × 186.5 cm each
Drawing on Chua Mia Tee’s Epic Poem of Malaya (1955), the work stages 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
Drawing on Chua Mia Tee’s Epic Poem of Malaya (1955), the work stages 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. The figures have learned to wear them all — to work faster, produce more, keep going.
Who gave them these hats? Who checks if they wear them right? Who are they doing this for?
Perhaps this is simply survival. Perhaps this is what it means to live here. If the hats are taken off, what is left?
-⌘-⌘-⌘-⌘-⌘-⌘-⌘-⌘-⌘-⌘-
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. The figures have learned to wear them all — to work faster, produce more, keep going.
Who gave them these hats? Who checks if they wear them right? Who are they doing this for?
Perhaps this is simply survival. Perhaps this is what it means to live here. If the hats are taken off, what is left?
-⌘-⌘-⌘-⌘-⌘-⌘-⌘-⌘-⌘-⌘-
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
The panel considers the idea of a safety net. Wong depicts figures weaving together, knot by knot, as a way of thinking about protection, duty, and the unseen labour that holds things in place. The work suggests a form of careful, necessary labour, while also leaving visible its sense of repetition and endlessness.
A safety net can protect, but it can also entrap. The work holds both possibilities in tension.
-⌘-⌘-⌘-⌘-⌘-⌘-⌘-⌘-⌘-⌘-
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, the figures occupy that delicate tension. The lion’s den becomes both sanctuary and snare.
Charcoal on canvas
171.5 × 186.5 cm each
The panel considers the idea of a safety net. Wong depicts figures weaving together, knot by knot, as a way of thinking about protection, duty, and the unseen labour that holds things in place. The work suggests a form of careful, necessary labour, while also leaving visible its sense of repetition and endlessness.
A safety net can protect, but it can also entrap. The work holds both possibilities in tension.
-⌘-⌘-⌘-⌘-⌘-⌘-⌘-⌘-⌘-⌘-
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, the figures occupy that delicate tension. The lion’s den becomes both sanctuary and snare.
Sama-Sama, exhibition view, Whitestone Gallery Singapore, 2025.
Curated by Dr Wang Ruobing. Photo: Whitestone Gallery Singapore.
Curated by Dr Wang Ruobing. Photo: Whitestone Gallery Singapore.
Sama-Sama, exhibition view, Whitestone Gallery Singapore, 2025.
Curated by Dr Wang Ruobing. Photo: Whitestone Gallery Singapore.
Curated by Dr Wang Ruobing. Photo: Whitestone Gallery Singapore.
Sama-Sama, exhibition view, Whitestone Gallery Singapore, 2025.
Curated by Dr Wang Ruobing. Photo: Whitestone Gallery Singapore.
Curated by Dr Wang Ruobing. 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.
The 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 of
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 it is called progress.
Sometimes it is called peace.
The work holds
the moment just before collapse.
The breath suspended,
not yet knowing
if it will be released.
It 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.
The 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 of
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 it is called progress.
Sometimes it is called peace.
The work holds
the moment just before collapse.
The breath suspended,
not yet knowing
if it will be released.
It 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
ঌ⊹ৡ⋆｡˗ˏˋ ✸ঌ✸ ˎˊ˗｡⋆ৡ⊹ঌ
Three figures move within a field of fire, fragments and motion. Their gestures seem to pass something between them, though it is unclear what has started the movement or where it will end.
Scattered throughout the image are the characters 火, 炎, 焱 and 燚, a progression of fire from a single flame to an increasingly intense blaze. Together, they form a visual crescendo, while also appearing almost incidental within the composition.
At the lower right, an indistinct figure sits apart from the others. It may be the beginning of the disturbance, or simply another participant in it. From there, something spreads. A gesture becomes a signal, a signal becomes noise, and noise begins to repeat itself.
The work looks towards the online sphere, where information can be passed along, embellished and amplified until repetition begins to resemble truth. What begins as a spark does not necessarily remain small.
The fire grows because it is fed.
Archival Pigment Print
29.7 x 42.0 cm
ঌ⊹ৡ⋆｡˗ˏˋ ✸ঌ✸ ˎˊ˗｡⋆ৡ⊹ঌ
Three figures move within a field of fire, fragments and motion. Their gestures seem to pass something between them, though it is unclear what has started the movement or where it will end.
Scattered throughout the image are the characters 火, 炎, 焱 and 燚, a progression of fire from a single flame to an increasingly intense blaze. Together, they form a visual crescendo, while also appearing almost incidental within the composition.
At the lower right, an indistinct figure sits apart from the others. It may be the beginning of the disturbance, or simply another participant in it. From there, something spreads. A gesture becomes a signal, a signal becomes noise, and noise begins to repeat itself.
The work looks towards the online sphere, where information can be passed along, embellished and amplified until repetition begins to resemble truth. What begins as a spark does not necessarily remain small.
The fire grows because it is fed.
TOM, DICK AND HARRY
2021
Archival Pigment Print
42.0 x 29.7 cm
Archival Pigment Print
42.0 x 29.7 cm
WORK: Selected Work
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