Heman Chong, 106B Depot Road, 2024, acrylonitrile butadiene styrene, 55 1⁄8 × 40 3⁄4 × 45 3⁄4″. Photo: Sun Shi.
By Li Qi
Heman Chong’s latest solo museum show, “The Endless Summer,” curated by Luan Shixuan, is staged in the northern Chinese county where the country’s top political leaders spend their summer holidays. It’s an Instagrammable beach resort renowned for a chapel with no clergy, a library crowded with nonreaders, and UCCA Dune, a satellite pavilion of Beijing’s flagship art institution. The museum’s anthill-shaped galleries are half buried in the town’s carefully controlled landscape—an approved simulation of nature. As a Singaporean, Chong should feel right at home in Beidaihe, which, as the artist told me, he sees as a paraphrase of Singapore’s success story in urban planning. Against the backdrop of China’s bursting real estate bubble, Chong has brought his “Endless Summer” to China’s economic winter, offering his favorite method for navigating life: through fiction.
106B Depot Road, 2024, newly commissioned for the show, materializes Chong’s conceptual transpositions. The artist described in detail the Singaporean public-housing block where he lives to an architect who, interpreting these descriptions, re-created the building in two ghostly white plastic models, each about waist height. Transformed from a tangible place and memory into an abstracted idea and representation, the building’s stacked modular forms embody the complexities of Singapore’s ascent. Beyond urban spectacle, Chong’s project reconstructs a symbol of Singapore’s social experiment in state-capitalist nation building. As the global Bitcoin-rich eye Singapore for its secret formula for accumulating wealth while maintaining social responsibility, these concrete edifices stand as both puzzles and testaments.
Chong’s investigation into real estate and ideology touches a nerve: How can socioeconomic development sustain itself, and what are the consequences when growth slows? Shot in a long-format video, Tanglin Halt Green (A Survey), 2023, documents a large 1970s public-housing compound awaiting redevelopment. The deserted site stands in haunting beauty—a relic of Singapore’s dutiful past and rejuvenated future. These silent monuments echo loudly in Beidaihe, where China’s state ownership of land intersects with an economy heavily reliant on an overextended real estate sector. The piece was initially published on the artist’s YouTube channel as an ASMR video accompanied by the sound of torrential rain—here, it’s presented as a video installation—intended to soothe frayed nerves and insomnia. Elsewhere in the show, three circular benches in A Different Kind of Loneliness, 2024—crafted like display plinths using recycled materials—offer free seating on the museum’s porches, which open onto the resort’s expensive beach. Chong conceives his practice as a public service, producing works that blur the boundaries between utility and art.
Chong is deeply engaged with print culture: The Library of Endless Journeys, 2024, features one hundred books on travel and migration; Perimeter Walk, 2013–24, comprises 550 postcards documenting Singapore’s seemingly endless coastline; and Monument to the people we’ve conveniently forgotten (I hate you), 2008, includes one million blacked-out business cards. Paperwork, 2024, transforms five hundred rusted-iron plates, each the size of an A4 sheet of paper, into a mandala symbolizing bureaucracy. Collectively, these works give a smart twist to the notion of “works on paper.” The bound, stacked, and spread-out pages emphasize the aesthetics of print—still an ideal medium for human connection and social exchange.
Chong distills a spectrum of ideas and reflections into minimal gestures. In place of narrative climax and resolution, he builds anticipation and tension by suspending development and staying in medias res. Prospectus, 2024—fragments of black-ink text printed on eight white posters arranged in repetition and covering the walls of a gallery—forms both the physical and conceptual backdrop of the show. The work consists of 239 English words salvaged from the ruins of a novel of the same name, which Chong worked on and later scrapped in 2006. Each poster features a unique selection of disjointed phrases and clauses alongside their corresponding Chinese translations, reminiscent of pages torn from a Language-poetry anthology. This reconstruction exemplifies his approach to artmaking: creating fictions not for the sake of the story itself but for the traces and formal wreckage left behind.
Published on ARTFORUM, April 2025, Vol. 63, No. 8. Read the original on artforum.com.