Chicken-bone sculptures in ‘One of Our Fossils’
By Lim Sheau Yun

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 Adam Phong here.

Adam Phong. Photo by Alvin Lau. Image courtesy of the artist and A+ Works of Art.

Who has been a mentor or an important artistic influence? And why?

I grew up in a family that encouraged artistic behaviour. My mom made clothes and jewellery, and my dad was an illustrator. I wore clothes she made, and I often looked at his drawings displayed in the house. Growing up, I did not realise how important this early exposure to art was, but in retrospect, it is the reason I was drawn to it.

What was one important piece of advice you were given?

Don’t be the best. Be the only.

Do you make a living completely off being an artist? If not, could you share what other types of work you take on to supplement your income? Do these activities also inform/ affect your practice?

Yes. Currently, my income is split between selling work and receiving grants. I am constantly experimenting with different ways of sustaining my practice. Ideally I would like to rely less on my work as a source of income.

I prototyped this experience for the production of my recent project One of Our Fossils. I used the entirety of my savings to fund 16 months of focused work on only this project. I turned down every opportunity I received and stayed home to work. I had to live frugally and eventually emptied my savings but now I know what it feels like to make work without external pressures. I realised that I could use my savings to fund materials, or time for production. The medium of chicken bones was a utilitarian choice. I had no need to buy materials. I could get them for free.

Adam Phong, ‘upside-down-patient’, 2023, graphite, color pencil, paper, jute, thread, acrylic and wood frame, 76 x 100 x 33.5cm. Image courtesy of the artist.

Adam Phong, ‘Correctiveregion’, 2023, graphite on paper, thread, wood pole and epoxy putty, 91 x 121cm. Image courtesy of the artist.

You trained as a painter at Malaysia Institute of Art (MIA), but have now transitioned to a sculptural, object-based practice. How do you think about mediums in your practice?

The idea informs the medium. When I was painting and drawing, my intention was illustrating the places I wished existed. Over time, I moved towards installations because I realised I could do more than just depict those worlds. I could actually create them and invite people in.

I have become obsessed with immersiveness. More and more, I want to treat the viewer less as a spectator looking at something, and more like a visitor in the middle of it. Installations seem to be the best area to pursue this idea.

But this is not the first time I have changed mediums. I used to do magic and cardistry, then dabbled in fashion, and then painting and drawing, and now installations. I think changing is characteristic of me. I am a bit of a cowboy. I like being in areas I have never been before. I am thrilled by new experiences.

Adam Phong, ‘Cheap Dimensions’, 2023, graphite on paper in epoxy putty frame, 100 x 76.5cm. Image courtesy of the artist.

Your earlier work played with instruments of chance, and the way in which painting can be relegated, almost surrendered, to chance. Tell us more about your process in making those paintings, and perhaps, why you chose to move away from it.

I made those drawings at a time when I felt too rigid and controlling about my work. The remedy was to exercise a looser way of working. I decided to surrender to chance and used methods like dice rolls and throwing darts to determine the composition of my work. This was not new in art but it was new to me. I eventually carried that process over into my life and used dice to decide what I had to wear or order from a restaurant.

It was meaningful because it allowed me to live and create differently. I eventually moved away because I had exhausted that approach. For me, making work is not about asking what I can make now but who I can be now. I did not want to be the kind of person who lived that way anymore. I usually conclude projects when I feel I am ready to live differently.

Adam Phong, ‘One of Our Fossils’, installation view at A+ Works of Art. Photo by Alvin Lau. Image courtesy of the artist and A+ Works of Art.

Your exhibition at A+ Works of Art, ‘One of Our Fossils’, opened on November 16. It is quite a departure from your previous work and uses chicken bones to compose sculptures. What is the premise behind ‘One of Our Fossils’? Can you tell us more about your interest in time, history, and the Anthropocene?

Last year, I stumbled on a scientific paper predicting that nuclear waste, plastic, and chicken bones would be our civilisation’s lasting remnants. I chose chicken bones for their absurdity: they outnumber human bones in the fossil record. Our obsession for faster and cheaper has created this unintended monument.

The show speculates how future civilisations might interpret these bones, creating myths and conspiracies about our time. I wanted to convey their scale with a 17-metre piece that makes viewers feel small. But I also included functional objects, like incense holders, to suggest a future where chicken bones are so abundant, they are used in daily life, just as we use ancient fossils for fuel.

I am fascinated by how today’s normal might look strange in the future. The Anthropocene could be one of these strange artefacts. I see our era less as the “age of humans” and more as the “age of capital,” or the Capitalocene, Jason Moore’s term. This is not merely human behavior. It is human behaviour moulded by capitalism. The trillions of chicken bones in the fossil record come from genetic engineering to create faster-growing, cheaper chickens, feeding the demands of fast food and cheap production.

I like to point to a part of the world, and with that attention create value. By looking at something, you change the thing itself. It is the attention around the chicken bone that creates a new kind of resonance. This work responds to a short-term-ism in our thinking, a slow cancellation of the future. One tends to become pessimistic. I want to create work that opens up a conversation about the deep future, to introduce a conversation on the long now.

“This work responds to a short-term-ism in our thinking, a slow cancellation of the future. One tends to become pessimistic. I want to create work that opens up a conversation about the deep future, to introduce a conversation on the long now.”

I know this exhibition was quite demanding for you to make. For sixteen months, you dedicated yourself to making works with chicken bones. What compelled you toward this process of working?

I disappeared for a year and a half to make this show. Previously, I was rather unknown and so I wanted to make something with a bang. The show became transformative—artistically, it is a shift from my previous work. Professionally, I also want to position myself as an artist that does whatever I want to do.

I began with collecting chicken bones from eateries—I would tell the people at KFC that it was for my dog. That became my motto for a year. From July to December, I did not make anything. I collected bones for six to seven months. Every day, I would go out with plastic bags to collect bones. Eventually, I found cafes that would collaborate with me, and I created my own supply chain of chicken bones.

I would then boil them, then scrub each one with a toothbrush. They would then soak in soap water for five days—at one point, the smell got so bad that a neighbour complained during Chinese New Year, and I had to apologetically deliver red packets and oranges. The bones would then soak in hydrogen peroxide for 24 hours to obtain their white, pristine look. It stripped the life away from these bones: they became calcium carbonate. They would then have to sun dry for four to five days before I could drill, then wire them together. I could only wire and work with the bones two weeks after collecting them. For one year, I was constantly on edge: if I did not collect enough bones two weeks before, I would not have enough to make work that day. I was living for chicken bones.

What feels more radical, though, is that I have changed. The show was physically demanding, and I needed to do it. I needed to bite off more than I could chew, to make something so intense that I could no longer be fragile. Now, I am physically and mentally healthier. The real change happened in my balcony and in my kitchen. This was the most radical part of the show for me: that I physically changed.

What are your hopes for your own local art scene, and regionally as well?

I hope we will have more conversations about what art does for us. In Malaysia, especially, art seems to be justified only if it is linked to broader economic frameworks like tourism or the creative economy. I think it is important to discuss the value of art beyond commodification.

Could you share your favourite art space or gallery in KL/Malaysia? Why are you drawn to that space and what does it offer to you/your practice?

A+ Works of Art and Ilham Gallery both have clear curatorial visions and care deeply about their work. A+ has given me full artistic freedom for ‘One of Our Fossils’, even if it might affect profit. I believe galleries should be willing to take risks, just like the artist.

Are there any upcoming exhibitions/projects that you would like to share?

A+ Works of Art will be exhibiting selected works from ‘One of Our Fossils’ and a new chicken bone sculpture at S.E.A. Focus 2025 in Singapore.

‘One of Our Fossils’ is on view at A+ Works of Art from 16 November to 14 December 2024.