This article is part of Hyperallergic‘s Pride Month Seriesfeaturing an interview with a different emerging or mid-career transgender or non-binary artist each weekday throughout June.

Singaporean non-binary trans artist Aki Hassan’s sculptural installations and experimental comics invite us to reflect on how the collective presence of our bodies can forge unseen bonds and connections. What does it mean to occupy space, in all the physical, figurative and radical senses of the expression? And what does it mean to occupy the space together? In a new series of poetic works, Hassan identifies examples of visual resonance between distinct shapes and materials – lightweight three-dimensional metal rods that rise gracefully like flower stalks and flat metal sheets that have the stoic authority of a sign or placard – and doing so emphasizes what these different elements have in common rather than what distinguishes them. Hassan describes these works beautifully in the interview below, sharing their concept of “silent resistance” and their hopes for a gentler understanding of ourselves.

Hyperallergic: What is the current orientation of your artistic practice?

Aki Hassan: Currently, my work is fueled by my reflections on the various dependencies that have evolved within fictional kinship. My immediate experiences often inform the core of my research and fundamental ideas. I meditate on the complexities of care work this surface within the framework of queer kinship that transcends blood ties and cis-heteronormative structures. It is a space that allows for constant change and flow, which complicates the exchange of care. I think about queer survival – the suppressions and the weight we already carry as individuals – and how that influences the way we depend on and cling to each other.

In my recent personal exhibition, Tangled attachments At Yeo Workshop, I offer the potential of expressing care by being close – near – to each other. I believe that kinship can be built from the first moment of recognition and solidarity. Through what I call “silent resistance”, I believe that we unknowingly exchange gestural vocabularies, some of which are familiar to us and continue to inhabit us. By placing drawings and objects that share a similar thread of visual forms in a single space, I urge the viewer to read the subtle impulses of lines and marks in relation to each other. One of the works I presented, entitled “Note For My Kin” (2023), is a thin steel rod supported by a heavy sheet of steel. The words “strategy work is not care work, honey” were faintly written there, as I reflect on the boundaries and limits we set for ourselves.

This show reflects the conditions of my survival in a place where access to queer gatherings is not always granted. Ultimately, I hope to shed light on how nuanced queer work and micro-actions can be, even if they are not immediately visible in our line of sight.

H: In what ways, if any, does your gender identity play a role in your experience as an artist?

Oh: The visual language of my drawings and sculptures is influenced by how the queer body orients itself – how it stands and falls into edges and surfaces, how it fits and positions itself. These bodily encounters don’t feel representative; they feel affective, so he feels adept at visualizing gestures through lines and marks. I find solace in the non-representational form as it does not require the visualization of a singular, specific body and embraces the fluid nature of trans*. This refusal comes from a place of respect for the nature of embodied knowledge. How to portray experiences that are often intangible and immaterial to the eye?

I work in particular with metal rods because they are able to capture the paradox of having strength in a state of vulnerability. There is a resilience seen in this lanky medium, especially when bent into a strained posture – a posture that constantly maintains itself. I resonate a lot with that.

H: Which artists inspire your work today? What are your other sources of inspiration?

At this moment, I am thinking of those in my immediate queer circles, namely Rifqi Amirul Rosli, ni, Khairullah Rahim, Diva Agar, Taufiq Rahman, my collaborators at Bussy Temple (Zenon, Jo Ho, Bruce, Minsoo Bae and Nydia), and everyone I’ve met along the way in my queer networks. I believe there is so much strength in the work they do to maintain their practices. I am inspired by their rigor and the continuous encouragement I receive from them.

H: What are your hopes for the LGBTQIA+ community right now?

I wish we were softer with ourselves, with each other, with everyone and everything else. We shouldn’t be ashamed of ourselves for being slower, if that’s the case.

Allow yourself to settle into the identities at your own pace.