10 Questions with Aiman

Al-Tiba9 Art Magazine ISSUE12 | Featured Artist

Aiman (1984) is an interdisciplinary artist and a graduate of Lasalle College of The Arts. He has had three solo exhibitions—two of which were with Art Porters Gallery, where he is represented—the most recent of which was in November 2021 (The Significance Of It All Is The Insignificance Of It All), and in 2018. (The Evolution of Eian & Eien). He has also participated in art fairs and exhibitions both in Singapore and abroad, including Art Stage Singapore and Jakarta (2017/2018), the National Art Gallery of Malaysia, in Songzhuang, China, and alongside Indonesian artists as part of Jogja Open Studios. In 2020 he was profiled alongside ten artists from South East Asia, to collaborate with ArtSEA on establishing arts-based initiatives for social impact. Currently undergoing his degree in Theology with the University of Divinity (AU) his current practice explores philosophical questions, theories, and ideas observed within the context of contemporary discourse.

www.aimanart.com | @aimanamenart

ARTIST STATEMENT

Art has always played two roles in Aiman’s life: personal and professional. Inextricably linked and mutually reinforcing, art has essentially been his source of grounding through turbulent times, empowering him to make sense of his experiences—an approach that has led him through a process of unlearning and looking with new eyes. He pieces together his discoveries, guided to what feels like truth, and he parallels this practice in how he pieces together the worlds in his art.

Through the platform that art provides, Aiman hopes to speak to society—one he believes is desperately yearning for deeper discourse on the lives they are leading and the implications thereof for themselves and future generations.

In exploring philosophical questions, theories, and ideas observed within the context of contemporary discourse, Aiman views his practice as an attempt to inspire others to look inward—a journey of returning to one’s true self—and to reconnect to the ways in which individuals intrinsically relate to one another. It is this contemplation—both individually and communally—that he believes will shape the zeitgeist of the 21st century.

The Significance of it All is the
Insignificance of it All | Project Description

According to Plato, the visible world to which we experience is a mere shadow—a poor conception of the world we profoundly belong to. In my work, I aim to explore this allegory known as Plato’s cave, juxtaposed with the paradigm of spiritual liberation—an existential pursuit in which the divine and the terrestrial combine.  

The paintings depict the wilderness—a re-imagination of the world portrayed in perhaps its most natural state. Layered into multiplex narratives, the vistas unveil themselves to be mere illusions, their verity exposed by expanding distortions of form—a downward pull from the effects of gravity. In allowing the process to take its course, a formless state of existence is revealed, and the idea of an infinite possibility is introduced.  

In experiencing both the synergy and tensions between formlessness and form, the artworks explore the interplay between that which is tangible—the world of perception, and that which is possible—the eternal realms that exist beyond. Furthermore, the artworks investigate the relationships—from both a syntagmatic and paradigmatic standpoint—between the fall of one world and the struggle to be born of another.  

Contextually, the artworks in this series are titled in a similar fashion—the myriad of colours that gives each artwork tone, shade, and essentially form are abstracted into formlessness until they are reconstituted as a single swatch.

INTERVIEW

First of all, let's talk about your background. How did you get involved with art? 

My fascination with creating and using art as a language of communication has always been with me since my early years. I was a creative and spirited child, yet I was also meek, awkward, and very much preferred my own solitude. It probably had a lot to do with the bullying that I had to endure—I pretty much knew I was gay since I was five, and growing up while navigating a culture that ridicules and shuns that very identity was not a walk in the park. I found myself retreating a lot in my own imagination—a world of dinosaurs, unicorns, and fantastical landscapes, and as I got older, I would contemplate a reality in which my queer identity would be that of a cultural norm. As I learnt to establish my own identity contrary to the expectations of those around me, art became an outlet for me; it gave me a voice to convey thoughts and emotions in ways that the contrarian in me wasn't brave enough to articulate.
At 16, when I was presented with several options for furthering my studies, my art teacher pulled me aside and suggested that I enrol in an arts college—something I had not previously considered. Presented with that possibility, I remembered feeling as though someone finally gave me permission to see myself, and once I started having those formative experiences in college—ways of thinking, connecting, and understanding, I decided that there was just no other way to be in the world.

When did you decide to become an artist full-time? And what do you wish you knew about contemporary art before you got started?

I believe that many artists—myself included—are hardwired in such a way that art-making is a full-time career, even when juggling multiple jobs. In fact, I would go so far as to say that I've been a full-time artist in the grand scheme of things—everything else that falls out of the periphery of what traditionally constitutes as 'being an artist' is a part of the ministry; funding, researching, processing experiences, and developing relationships. What I've come to learn is that context, whether it be socio-political, economic, or cultural, plays an important role in how contemporary art is perceived or interpreted, and is often one of the key factors in determining whether or not an audience intrinsically resonates with the art—notwithstanding the garnered interest, or their theoretical understanding of it.

You are currently living in Singapore. How do you find the city, art-wise? Does it have a good artistic network, and how did it help you improve your work and visibility? 

One great thing about Singapore is its commitment to investing in the country's art ecosystem—there are pockets of programs all year that garner regional attention—and knowing the right people will lead to plenty of opportunities to collaborate across industries. However, such measured progress can be overtly linear at times, and in my opinion, where it falls short is in its maturity to step outside of its own echo chamber in order to facilitate a diversity of perspectives. Governmentally, support for the arts is heavily focused on community involvement, yet in that specific brand of 'inclusivity,' it tends to exclude discourse that is deemed to be the 'other,' or one that challenges the status quo.
Without making light of the very real consequences of an overarching hegemonic ideology, what's great about this is you also start to notice the eventual formation of rival or even counter-hegemonic discourses—and one of the ways in which these issues can be brought to the fore, and subsequently addressed is through art. The talk of visibility aside, as an artist, you get a sense of the issues that are bubbling under the surface that needs to be addressed, and particularly if I have a personal resonance to it, learning to trust that intuition has helped me navigate my practice.

You are currently studying Theology. How is this influencing your art? 

I think we have a human tendency to overpower the things of matter and allow that which we cannot perceive with our physical senses to fall outside of our mental periphery. When we lose sight of the fundamentals of human existence, we tend to become engulfed in divisive, destructive, and futile "culture wars," which, in my opinion, further divide us. Unless, of course, confronted with circumstances that reverberate us to the core of our being, such as a new birth, a near-death experience, or the death of a close family or friend, we tend to live within this sort of 'horizontal,' superficial way of living.
For me, the study of Theology, at its crux—religion and denominations aside—helps to deepen our understanding of the fundamentals, facilitating the process of reconnecting back to our source; i.e., God; the realm of the spirit; the collective unconscious, and centers us back to an equilibrium of being. There is also a sense that you are being acquainted and guided through this imaginative leap of faith—a glimpse into an unveiling of the larger world. From a philosophical standpoint, the study of Theology also speaks of our need for what Philosopher Ester Meek refers to as "epistemological therapy"—the examining of roots to what we assume to be "knowledge". This process of challenging common and truncated understandings and (biblical) narratives from modern, reductionist assumptions enlivens and recovers theology to its fullness and richness.
I try to describe, translate and integrate this journey—exploring the dialogue and tensions that exist between the ways of the spirit and the ways of the world—in the art I create. Creating and making in this context is my way of honouring beauty and poetry at its source, and I consider it theological work as much as it is aesthetic.

In your statement, you mention "exploring philosophical questions, theories, and ideas observed within the context of contemporary discourse" to inspire others to look inwards, almost as a self-reflection. What do you wish to communicate with your art? And what themes do you want to reflect upon?

I think we need to first look at what the role of the modern-day artist is and how it fits in with this era of collective awakening and the post-postmodern discourse. Despite this flux of diverse perspectives that has arisen as a result of the postmodern conversation, there is also an overarching posture of cynicism and relativism that tends to shameface or approach the fundamental questions of human existence—love, death, suffering, morality, faith—with a sort of reticence. I think there is a sense that shying away from these fundamentals has fashioned a rather superficial way of understanding truth and objectivity. And when you add to that this sea of distractions and swaying opinions, which is then contained in an echo-chamber determined by the surveillance of algorithms, it is no wonder we are divided and see those unlike ourselves as the 'other'.
In light of this, what I am trying to ignite is one's own desire to look within, to look at questions regarding the fundamentals of our existence and experiences that we have a tendency to bury in favour of presenting a more positive version of ourselves and our society. I think it is in this process of conveying profound emotion—by exploring not just the deep-seated pains and passions of individuals, but also of those from the era in which we live—that we are able to reconcile these conflicts, and learn to exist in a healthy tension that intersects a diversity of perspectives.

What is your artistic routine when working? Do you have a set schedule, or do you work following your inspiration? 

I'm constantly working on being present—which I think is my main start off point when creating an art piece or a body of works. What I've realised over the years is that life has a way of nudging you towards the next phase and the next season. In a way, I feel like the handmaiden of the subconscious—collective or otherwise—is there to receive whatever's communicated. There is plenty of inspiration there, and short of that, immersing myself in literary works is the next best thing. It's just a process I've learned to trust as I've experienced it over the years and over the myriad of challenges and circumstances.
There is also something thrilling in stepping out of my own way, and in being in the presence of something that transcends my very limited perception. Of course, the left-brain pragmatic part of me would very much prefer to stick to a very ordered image of what I initially had in mind—usually a preliminary drawing, but I've learnt to accept "accidents" as an integral aspect of the composition of my artworks. In a sense, I'm just playing with the raw materials of language and communication—through art or otherwise, and then before I know it, this "structure" that I've built is asking some philosophical question, that for a particular person or audience, will be exactly the question that needs to be asked at that point in time.

Do you have any other themes you would like to tackle? Or any other medium you would like to experiment with? 

Lately I've been pondering a lot about death and loss—not so much the eschatology of it, but the fading away of a physical reminder and the fluidity of the process in which we grieve. It would be interesting to explore that liminal space between sentimentalism—where we are holding on and honoring a memory, and the coldness of utilitarianism—our society's obsession with the emotional bypassing of grief for the purpose of 'moving on'. I suppose this has a lot to do with my personal experiences of late.
On a different note, I would have to say I am intrigued by the use of technology for immersive experiences and its implications. On the one hand, it allows us the possibility of expanding our physical limits, and connecting in an incredible, almost telepathic way, yet on the other, it disconnects us from the matrix of our reality, our nature, and our very human condition.

Let's talk about the art market and your collectors' base. You have already participated in several exhibitions and art fairs; what do you think of the art market? And how do you keep your collectors engaged in your latest projects?

I'd say my career began when I was first approached by the owner of an art gallery at my graduation show back in the early 2000s—right at the cusps of social media, i.e., Myspace and Friendster—and for a period, it maneuvered a somewhat traditional art ecosystem. Social media—or at least the semblance of what it was then—is not what it is now, and the market has evolved pretty significantly.
As technology—AI, AR, Blockchain—continues to facilitate the democratisation of art into a more inclusive and engaging version of what it was; the art world is not so much a world anymore then it is a collection of art villages. Artists now must figure out which art village or villages they would like to be a part of, or have a synergy with; one can choose to work with art consultants, the gallery system, or even as self-represented artists. An artist can also choose to specialise in large-scale public sculptures, private commissions, or various other kinds of art activities. On the bright side, artists now have the agency to carve out a career path that speaks to them, but choice—in a sea of distractions and swaying opinions—can also be a double-edged sword.
I love the nuance of long-form content and conversations, particularly in the ways in which they hold space—a reason why I enjoy writing about life experiences that profoundly inform my art. In a sense, these writings provide the audience with the opportunity to experience the artwork solely in literary form, akin to the idea of meeting (or seeing) someone for the first time after only having gotten to know their stories, motivations, and aspirations. Yet, as someone whose work encourages contemplation by slowing down and being present, organically allowing psychological space between social media updates is a practice I favour. Besides, in the relinquishment of that grasping nature of 'needing' to hold attention and engagement, there is also a strong element of trust and faith at play that runs both ways.

Talking about the future, what are you working on now, and what are your plans? Do you have any upcoming exhibitions or projects?

I am currently working on a couple of international projects, one of which includes a nine-piece series that honors the brokenness of the human experience as a part of the profound nature of our existence in the world. Another piece I am working on is a public art piece (US) that explores perceptions of what one considers to be interior and exterior spaces, examining how we relate to our surroundings, our connection with nature, and each other.
Concurrently, I am also creating a new series of works that examines and embraces the tensions— the wrestle, dance, and the poetry, in navigating the intersection between the Christian faith and the queer identity.

Finally, do you have a dream or goal you still wish to achieve? 

In an eschatological sense, my ultimate goal is to enter the new creation—whatever that may be—having been a vessel of love, unity, and truth in this lifetime, a seemingly simple task that I find to be most challenging in practice. In the meantime—and in acknowledging the very reality of my human condition—great health and the capacity to continue doing meaningful work would be my utmost wish. I suppose that would also help me navigate my 10, 20, 30 year milestones, the progress of which would be something I intend to write and blog about (as long-form content, of course), all in good time.