Integrating photography, performance and poetry
By Vivyan Yeo

A&M's Fresh Faces is where we profile an emerging artist from the region every month and speak to them about how they kick-started their career, how they continue to sustain their practice and what drives them as artists. Read our profile on Fitri Ya’akob here.

Photograph of Fitri Ya’akob. Image courtesy of the artist.

How did you begin your journey in the arts, and what made you particularly interested in photography?

In one of my earliest memories, I begged my mother for a mega art set for my birthday. My mum reserved a wall at home to display my drawings, fastening each one with scotch tape so that we could easily replace them with a new “flavour” of the week.

My interests transformed and evolved, taking on a new look once I dove deep into the academic curriculum. I had stopped drawing, but I was learning to dance and write.

I initially wanted to continue with dancing, but a few conversations with my parents led me to choose a “safer” route. I ultimately enrolled in the School of Art, Design and Media (ADM) at Nanyang Technological University Singapore (NTU) and chose photography as my next medium. It was a form of visual storytelling – something that I was familiar with but not quite so, especially when you add the camera and photography techniques. The medium is incredibly versatile. It has allowed me to stage a scene and capture beautiful, fleeting moments that would otherwise be elusive. It is easy to fall in love with photography.

Who has been a mentor or an important artistic influence?

That would have to be Oh Soon Hwa, one of my professors back at ADM. She has been an important mentor for my artistic practice, and was the first person who introduced the technical and artistic intricacies of photography to me.

As somebody whose practice is deeply rooted in exploring mother-child relationships within familial parameters, Soon Hwa’s insights as a woman and mother have been instrumental. When I showed her the first cut of ‘Binte Ya’akob’ (2018), an early project where I had to be completely vulnerable, she showed me empathy and compassion. This gave me the validation I did not know I needed, which has stayed with me till now.

What was one important piece of advice you were given?

A piece of advice that I try to work on to this day is to be unapologetic. Reaching this stage is a challenge, especially when there are untold stories and painful chapters that have yet to see the light of day.

To be unapologetic is to also be proud. Unfortunately, it is ridiculously easy to fall into the cracks of my vulnerabilities. I am guilty of downplaying my works, achievements and how far I have come; to do otherwise is uncomfortable.

Dr Bridget Tracy Tan, Director for the Institute of Southeast Asian Arts and Art Galleries at Nanyang Academy of Fine Arts, once said to me, “although you are an artist who makes work for “oneself” as you put it, the most compelling works emerge from epilogues at a moment in one’s life.” Coming from a person I respect immensely, her words have given me the courage to not dismiss my life stories.

“A piece of advice that I try to work on to this day is to be unapologetic. Reaching this stage is a challenge, especially when there are untold stories and painful chapters that have yet to see the light of day.”

Fitri Ya’akob, ‘The Quintessential Family Portrait’ from the series ‘Binte Ya’akob’, 2018, photograph. Image courtesy of the artist.

Many of your works address the complex relationships between family members, such as ‘Binte Ya’akob’ (2018) and ‘To Mother’ (2019). What spurred you to explore these ideas during your schooling days?

To be frank, I want to see how my lived experiences would appear visually. These works have been for my own healing, more than anything else.

When I started ‘Binte Ya’akob’, I thought I was ready to face the painful parts of my childhood. I quickly realised that the healing I had donewas not enough. The more I uncovered hidden parts of my history, the more I felt lost and confused. I had no choice but to make sense of my childhood with all the new information. It was a disorienting moment. The reality I had once subscribed to was, in fact, not quite real. I wanted to find answers, or even half-answers, so long as I was able to ground myself again.

I was naturally led to the source of all my yearning, love, and grievances: my mother. I decided then that she would be my subject for my final-year project at NTU. Understanding her circumstances and struggles gave me insight, and in some ways, solace.

Exhibition view of ‘A Self I Once Knew’, 2020, featuring the series ‘A Prayer | A Plea’ by Fitri Ya’akob. Image courtesy of the artist.

As part of the winners’ showcase of the Kwek Leng Joo Prize of Excellence in Photography, you exhibited your photography series ‘A Prayer | A Plea’ (2020) at DECK in 2020. Could you talk about this work and your process of preparing the exhibition?

Familial relationships represent a fundamental idea in Islam. There are ‘dos’ and ‘don’ts’, as well as privileges dedicated to those who have them.

My stepfather is a lovely person but given that we do not share the same blood, there have been a few entitlements that he and I have not enjoyed. It does not matter that we have a great relationship now. There is always a possibility that I cannot recreate what we have in the afterlife. And since there is a great emphasis on blood ties, I will have to create a father-daughter relationship with my biological father, who is essentially a stranger.

Preparing for this particular exhibition was especially difficult. For one, entering the workforce significantly cut down the time that I had hoped to dedicate to the project. With other life commitments and the pandemic, the entire process brought me a lot of anxiety and I felt like I had to run back and forth. But we made it!

Fitri Ya’akob, still from ‘Akar’, 2020, film, 5 minutes 38 seconds. Image courtesy of the artist.

Poetry plays a pivotal role in your art practice. One of your early short films, ‘The Blue People’ (2017) pairs video and poems written by yourself and Siti Nur Sharifah, and your most recent work ‘Akar’ (2020) integrates performance, film and spoken word poetry. Could you describe your process of creating these poems, and your view on the relationship between image and text?

My writing process is quite haphazard. I will randomly jot down a sentence or two in my Notes app – a few liners that encapsulate my emotions rather than thoughts. It will be left to simmer until I stumble across it later down the road. From there, I will continue. It is very much unplanned, but I believe that for every writer, there are days when you can write and others when you can write better. I prefer to give myself breathing space to ready myself for the latter.

Image and text have an intricate relationship in my practice. For every image, there is a story with myriad interpretations that lie beneath. Understanding and relating to the core message becomes a hit-or-miss situation, as they are at the behest of the audience and their lived experiences. However, when pairing images with a string of words, I can intentionally shape the narrative and the experience of the artwork.

“My writing process is quite haphazard. I will randomly jot down a sentence or two in my Notes app – a few liners that encapsulate my emotions rather than thoughts. It will be left to simmer until I stumble across it later down the road. From there, I will continue. It is very much unplanned, but I believe that for every writer, there are days when you can write and others when you can write better. I prefer to give myself breathing space to ready myself for the latter.”

In contrast to your earlier works, the film ‘Akar’ (2020) features you performing a movement piece. You also presented a version of this performance at Objectifs for the exhibition ‘With you Here Between: Defamiliarizations’ in 2021. How was the experience integrating performance and movement into your practice?

For ‘Akar’, integrating movement into film felt natural. The quintessential flicking of the wrists; arms stretching towards the sky above; torso leaning to the side – these are movements that I have practised many times over in my eight-year career in Malay dance. It was an excellent entry point to performance as a whole.

However, I also came to understand the nuances that separate performing arts and performance arts. Performing a work live, especially one like ‘Akar’, was different from performing a dance sequence. I put forth thoughts I had once wrestled with and voiced emotions that were hard to accept. Many real-time variables can impact a live performance. Because my grandfather had passed on a few months before, and given that ‘Akar’ is about homesickness and yearning, it was a lot more emotional than I had planned it to be.

Fitri Ya’akob, ‘My Forever, Always’ from the series ‘To Mother, 2019, photograph. Image courtesy of the artist.

How has your work in a full-time job positively or negatively influenced your art practice?

Unfortunately, work has has an adverse influence on my art practice because I have little to no time to dedicate to art-making. It has been a whirlwind of a ride. While it has been great for my growth as a person overall, my creative side is rather parched.

That said, my jobs have allowed me to build a stable financial footing, so at the moment, I cannot wait to jumpstart my practice and explore what lies beyond.

Could you share your favourite art space or gallery in Singapore? Why are you drawn to that space?

At the top of my head, STPI – Creative Workshop and Gallery stands out. I love how expansive the space is.

I remember experiencing the exhibition ‘Dinh Q. Lê: Monuments and Memorials’ there in 2018. As soon as I entered the gallery, I was taken in by large photo installations that quickly set the tone. While the nature of the series was rather dispiriting, the large space provided enough breathing room to balance it out.

What has made this exhibition stick in my head is the work ‘Adrift in Darkness’ (2017), which featured large, floating installations tucked in a very dark room. They looked like heavy rocks floating in space, giving an ethereal first impression. However, this gave way to a sense of despondence when I understood the harrowing meaning behind the installation. After stepping out of that room, I was once again greeted with a large white space, where his other works were displayed. Experiencing the exhibition in this way would not have been possible without the gallery’s particular layout.

What are your hopes for the local art scene and in the region?

The turnout for Singapore Art Week 2022 was very promising, and there is increasing public interest in the arts. I want to witness a future where art and art-making take a more significant space in public and private discourses. I also hope that appreciation and pressure to provide rightful compensation to those involved will naturally follow.

Click here to read our profile on Fitri Ya’akob.

The interview has been edited.