Man About Town

Hello Darren! Hope you’re well and healthy! How’s life been?

Hello Patrick, I am sure nobody will tell you that 2020 has been a walk in the park by any measure. While my family and I have thankfully been spared from COVID-19, the pandemic has affected everyone one way or another. During Singapore’s version of the lockdown, called the Circuit Breaker, I did not make any meaningful photographs for an entire eight weeks because, like many others considered non-essential, I did not work.

But I also realized that as photographers, there had to be something else we could do if we were not at the frontline documenting the pandemic. With seven other photographers, I started a prints sale fundraiser together with the folks at Singapore’s Obecjtifs Centre for Photography and Film to raise money for the migrant worker community in Singapore that had been hit most badly by COVID-19. Due to overwhelming support from the community, we managed to raise nearly S$58,000. You can read more about the fundraiser here: https://www.objectifs.com.sg/for-our-migrant-workers/ Thankfully, things have gotten much better since, both in terms of COVID-19 numbers here as well as work, and I am now fully back at work. 

For our ASEAN readers, can you recount how you found yourself in the realm of architectural photography?

I started my photography career as an intern and then a temp staff at The Straits Times. This lasted from 1997 to 2001, and during that time, all I wanted to be was a photojournalist. But circumstances led me to the freelancer’s path earlier than I expected, and so, from 2001 to 2005, I did every kind of photography job that paid so I could continue working as a photographer. I shot weddings, events, products, and did a ton of magazine work. In 2006, I bought myself a 4×5 large format film camera and taught myself how to use it.

I quickly realized that the best images of the 4×5 camera were photographs of buildings as they did not move and could withstand the camera’s long setup times. The image quality of the negative or positive produced by this camera was also absolutely amazing, and I started to photograph architecture with it. This image of (the now demolished) water slides at the then already shut down Big Splash remains one of my most favorite images made on the 4×5. Big Splash was built in 1977, and its 85-meter-long water slide was said to be the world’s longest and tallest when it was first completed. Shortly after I shot this photo, the slides were removed forever.

What learnings or insights about architecture have you gleaned from your years of documenting it?

To be perfectly honest, I was never very interested in architecture before 2006, and I could not name any important architects or associate any buildings with their architects. I guess you could say that the large format camera and my subsequent love for making images of built structures opened me to the world of architecture. And now here I am, some 14 years later, doing nothing BUT architecture photography and very much a part of the architectural community here in Singapore.

The learning curve was steep, but you try and make up for lost time quickly as with everything you feel for. One of the most obvious things I have learned is that urban redevelopment happens in Singapore at a pace almost unheard of in the West and in many other parts of the world, and before you know it, a building is gone for good and replaced by another. 

How has your view changed before you decided to pick up a camera to shoot architecture?

I now have the utmost respect for architects and their work, as well as a much, much better understanding of light. As an aspiring photojournalist, good natural light was simply a bonus in the course of what I had to photograph for work. But as an architectural photographer, good natural light makes or break your images. Because of this, I have taught myself how to read light, not just at different times of the day but also at different times of the year. 

What makes Singapore’s brand of post-war, modernist architecture interesting and distinct?

Let’s talk about post-independence architecture, which came about after 1965 when Singapore was expunged from Malaysia. 1965 was a time of uncertainty for Singapore, as nobody really knew if we would make it as a tiny island state that had been cut off from its former body. However, the Housing Development Board (HDB), which was formed in 1960, took Singapore’s development very seriously and initiated many, many projects and land sales to the private sector to raise money. 

It was through the very first few government land sales that our amazing icons of modernism such as the People’s Park Complex (1970), Golden Mile Complex (1974), and the now-demolished Pearl Bank Apartments (1976) came into existence. These structures were special because they were all designed by local Singaporean architects, many of whom had gone to architecture school right here in Singapore. These buildings embodied the brave pioneering spirit of a nascent country and proved to the world that Singapore would more than just make it.

Coming from a relatively young nation where examples of post-war built heritage are fast being eaten up by new developments, what more do you think the government, private sector, and the community can do to ensure the survival of important built structures?

This is a very timely question because the Urban Redevelopment Authority (URA) of Singapore has just, on October 9, 2020, announced that it is proposing for Golden Mile Complex to be gazetted for conservation. At the same time, it has also officially stated that it recognizes the current owners’ financial concerns and is thus offering a whole slate of incentives for any would-be developer to collectively buy over the building for redevelopment, provided the main structure is conserved. 

For a long time, my colleagues in the architecture community and I have said that for developers to even consider conserving an old building they buy over, the government must give substantial incentives to make it attractive to retain any existing structures. Otherwise, demolition and rebuilding will ALWAYS be more financially sound. For the government and the URA to offer these incentives toward the conservation of the Golden Mile Complex is unprecedented, and I cannot wait to see how the situation will now unfold. 

The gulf between awareness and the compassion needed to effect concrete change is a hard one to cross. We have seen how mere awareness is not enough to save heritage landmarks around the globe. In your opinion, what makes it difficult for laymen to make the jump from observer to believer?

I think many people don’t believe that they are capable of effecting any change on a personal level. After all, how many people can say that they have single-handedly saved a building from destruction? And it is daunting, for sure. However, the Golden Mile Complex case has shown that when enough like-minded people get together behind a cause and keep engaging with the authorities and educating the public, miracles can happen.

I was once an observer, preferring to call myself a “documentarian.” But after seeing so many of my “documentees” get destroyed, I decided I could no longer just sit on the fence and present pretty pictures of endangered buildings and spaces to people and expect them to take a stand. I had to take an active stand and work with others for change to be effected.

Any surprising insights about Singaporeans’ relationship with built heritage? As a sociology graduate, what would you say is the rationale or explanation behind such behavior?

I have learned that for most Singaporeans, there will be a suitable price for them to give up their dwellings, no matter how long they have lived in said dwelling. There are many reasons for this, of course, but the most important must be that for years, the people have been told and then internalized that their home is also their financial investment vehicle. This puts a price tag on every building and, by extrapolation, one can deduce that no building is sacred enough to be protected from a sale and then redevelopment.

On the other hand, Singaporeans seem to be of the persuasion that VERY old is good and thus worthy of conservation, which explains the many, many buildings from the colonial era that have been conserved. Modern buildings are unfortunately old enough to be run-down but, in the eyes of many, not old enough to be worthy of saving.

You have exhaustively documented Singapore’s revolutionary HDB flats, tracking down early examples and tirelessly educating the public about their growth and continuing development on social media. In your visual survey of HDB flats, what attributes of this mid/high-rise residential typology would you say is special to Singapore?

I think the HDB takes a lot of pride in its work. It turned 60 in 2020, and some would say that it has run the world’s most successful public housing program, second to none. I agree with this assessment on many fronts. HDB flats are (relatively) affordable when bought new from the government. HDB estates are clean and well-kept EVEN when they are nearly 60 years old. HDB estates are by and large well planned to include amenities and transport options for everyone. HDB estates are safe, in fact, so safe that no permanent on-site security or restricted access to common areas is necessary, unlike the public housing estates of many other countries. The recently completed Tampines GreenRidges is a remarkable example of this well-manicured and aesthetically pleasing new generation HDB estate.

How would you describe Singaporeans’ relationship with HDB developments? Would you say that the HDB efforts have been largely successful in their mission and meeting Singaporeans’ changing needs?

Well over 80% of Singaporeans live in HDB apartments, so I would say that most Singaporeans have to deal with the HDB daily in the form of the flat they live in. Initially built to fulfill a very dire need for clean and affordable housing in the 1960s, the HDB has reinvented itself over and over again as a provider of public housing in Singapore. However, because it is doing this reinventing, there will inevitably be some misses along the way, together with the hits. These “misses,” as defined by the HDB, will often never be repeated again in form or function, and then these blocks or estates become unique and special and will go down in history as such. The hits will continue to be replicated at scale, and I believe the HDB tries very hard to have its ears on the ground. 

Any new (or old) piece of architecture in Singapore that you have shot that you feel strongly about?

Where do we even begin?! Let’s talk about my childhood home, the first HDB block that I ever lived in. This is block 82, Commonwealth Close in Queenstown. Queenstown was the first town to be completed by the HDB, having taken over the town from the Singapore Improvement Trust (SIT) from 1960 onwards. I lived in block 82 from 1976 to 1980 with my parents and grandparents before moving to another part of Singapore. Thankfully, the block is still standing today, but because it was first sold to the public in 1964, there are only about 42 years left on their 99-year lease before they must be returned to the government.

Along with blocks 81 and 83, these three blocks contained the very first public housing flats ever sold to the public. Until 1964, the HDB only built rental flats. But because then Prime Minister Lee Kuan Yew wanted Singaporeans to have a greater sense of ownership, the HDB launched the “Home Ownership for the People Scheme” on February 12, 1964, with these three blocks. Because the three blocks stood on a hill and were 16 stories tall, one of the blocks (block 81) was later often used as a showcase to visiting foreign dignitaries, so much so that it became known as the “VIP Block.” I have now made it a habit to rephotograph block 82 every time I have a new camera or a new iPhone. It is as much ritual as a practice to make images of increasingly better image quality as digital imaging technology advances. 

In relation to this, any demolished Singaporean landmark you wish could be brought back and photographed? Why this particular structure?

Absolutely. The National Theatre, designed by Alfred Wong and built in 1963, was demolished in 1986 when they were tunneling under it for the Central Expressway. According to the authorities, the cantilevered roof was found to be unsound, and because the theatre also lacked airconditioning and was falling into disuse, the government decided to demolish it. I was ten when it was bulldozed and too young to have thought of photographing it. If there ever were one singular built cultural symbol of Singapore, it would have been the National Theatre. I think Singapore is still scarred by its untimely demise, even today. 

You’ve proven to your followers that one does not need professional or expensive equipment to take great photos. What are some tips you can give to laymen wanting to get into the practice of documenting architecture?

I always tell anyone who is looking to start that vantage point and light are almost everything. Once you have acknowledged the need to explore for yourself to find meaningful positions from which to make your photos, and you arrive at the right time, the image is yours. Just look at this image I recently made on my new iPhone 12 (not the Pro, mind you) of the new State Courts Towers here in Singapore designed by Serie Architects and MultiPLY Architects in collaboration with CPG Consultants. I go back to this location time and again because the view of the new towers set behind the conserved former Subordinate Courts building in the foreground lends itself to different moods depending on when they are photographed.

Are there recent examples of adaptive reuse or conservation of heritage architecture in Singapore that you think is a good template for other developments to follow?

Most adaptive reuse schemes in Singapore are on very small scales, like the numerous shophouses, godowns, and colonial public housing sites that mostly have been turned into boutique hotels. While commendable still, it is really far more challenging to reimagine a large sprawling space or complex that, in the eyes of many, should just be demolished and “put to better use.”

A mid-sized example that is good to show would be the former Khong Guan Biscuit Factory building whose owner came forward for voluntary conservation. Meta Architects was then tasked to add a new wing on the site above it, largely dwarfing the original building but still having a strong dialogue with it. Now housing a café on its ground floor with offices rented out in the new extension, the building is located in a rather inaccessible industrial part of Singapore. Nevertheless, the site has become a destination for interested folks.

We are at a period when rampant disinformation and freedom of expression have blended into a toxic mix, to the point that facts and figures are debated. How do you think your study, documentation, and dissemination of built heritage can contribute positively to the coverage and discourse on Singaporean history? How does it impact the continuing national narrative of Singapore?

I’d have to add that the ease by which individuals can digitally manipulate images to show things that were not there or remove elements that were is also contributing to this problem. For me, I abide by a very strict set of ethics when it comes to what can and cannot be done to my images. And while I cannot control what others do, I can only hope that I offer an example of how things can be done.

Of course, for many out there, photography isn’t even remotely related to historicity or representation. Instead, it is a pastime or a sport even, one used to chalk up likes and shares. On my end, I try to do proper research when it comes to the history of the buildings and spaces I photograph and, wherever possible, to corroborate the research with other sources. I do this to make doubly sure I’m not making things harder for future generations as they look back upon my work for reference.

The advent of Instagram-friendly architecture and Instagrammable spaces has shown that architectural photography does exert considerable influence over its chosen subject. Let’s close this interview with your manifesto as an architecture photographer. What defining principle governs what you do and the stories you tell?

I used to be very much at odds with much of what is deemed “architectural photography” on Instagram. You know, that ultra-wide-angle image with skewed leading lines toned in orange and teal, ending with a mysterious looking subject dressed in a hoodie taking up 5% of the frame, small enough to add scale to the scene but large enough to show the hoodie.

Jokes (or not) aside, I have since realized that there is room on Instagram for all sorts of content and content creators, and if someone wishes to call him or herself an architectural photographer but ends up eschewing the architecture for basal aesthetics, then so be it.

One of the pet peeves that remain for me is that many Instagrammers do not have the basic courtesy of naming the architect (or, shockingly, even the building itself) in their 100% 🔥🔥🔥 LitAF images.

How hard is it to provide some background on your subject matter? Unless the subject really doesn’t matter to the image-maker. I guess this is where I (and other image-makers steeped in facts and historicity) come in, where viewers definitely have a chance to go away with more than just a pretty image. 

I see myself as a visual archivist of modernism (like it says on my Instagram), and I am here to educate in addition to showing you what a building looks like and how it is used.

Could you share a little-known vantage point anywhere in Singapore that has rewarded you with beautiful imagery?

I could probably write a book on this, given the number of locations I have come across in all my scouting. Almost every single HDB common corridor in Singapore is accessible to the public, and some of these HDB blocks tower up to over 40 floors in height, so the views afforded would all be amazing. I can’t single any one of them out, but I can offer a tip. Look out for newly completed or tall, unblocked HDB projects near the city. These are usually super tall and super dense and would more than likely offer amazing views from their corridors and stairwells. Here are two, one shot from Chinatown Complex next to the CBD and one showing CityVue @ Henderson, one of the newest HDB projects recently completed. The latter was made from a stairwell of another HDB block at Jalan Membina. •

The Singapore story as seen in its spaces and places over at @darrensohphoto on Instagram and Facebook.