Consistently Inconsistent

 

Pic: Think Tank (2014) is a collaborative work with Roboticist Malaysia, supported by the National Art Gallery Malaysia.

 

You know the drill.
An artist hits gold—figuratively or literally—with a certain look. A brushstroke. A palette. A certain kind of blur.
Suddenly, everything must look like that.
Because that’s “your style,” darling. Your brand.

But here’s a thought:
What if your signature style is actually just... boredom wearing designer glasses?

The Cult of Consistency

In some art circles (and by circles, I mean collector dinner parties), consistency is the altar.
“Ah yes, I could spot their work from across the room,” someone says, as if it’s a compliment and not a threat.

But what they’re really saying is:
“I love how they keep doing the same thing over and over, slightly to the left.”

Enter the “recognizable artist”—blessed by galleries, followed by algorithms, cursed by their own success.

They’ve found their niche. Now they live in it.

The Signature That Moves

But what if your signature isn’t a brushstroke, but a question?
Not a color palette, but a pattern of curiosity?

Imagine an artist whose signature is:

Unpredictability
Intelligence over imitation
A riot in slow motion
A refusal to repeat just because it sells
A joy in contradiction
And yes—a willingness to confuse, unsettle, even delightfully disappoint

What if the only thing that tied your works together was you—your hand, your eye, your absurd joy in not being boxed?

 

Notes from the Other Side

Let’s say, hypothetically, that an artist exists who:

Melts things on purpose
Writes poetic nonsense on bandages
Turns percussion instruments into border documents
Has an alter ego who refuses to be defined by gender, nation, or CV

Now imagine this artist also exhibits internationally, touches people, confuses others, and stays free.

Sounds like a mess, right?

Sounds like freedom.

In Conclusion (If There Must Be One)

Signature styles are fine. Some artists make magic through repetition. But let’s not confuse consistency with depth.

And let’s definitely not confuse branding with meaning.

 

Sty-less is the new style

 

Inconsistency, executed with conviction.

Chaos, curated just enough to pass for clarity.

A thread that knots itself in memory rather than on canvas.

 

So yes, you can keep your signature style—or choose to keep evolving.

Wearing contradictions like a slightly stained bandage—stitched with joy, confusion, and maybe a quote overheard on a train.

 

Either way, I’ll take my signature of artistic freedom, lightly stained.

 

 

 

Work in progress 2025

 

 

Exhibition Announcement— Kunstpakhuset, Ikast, Denmark

Exhibition Announcement

Rhythms of Identity 

Solo Exhibition — Kunstpakhuset, Ikast, Denmark

27 September – 9 November 2025

Rhythm of Identity

The Absence Me — A Book in Dialogue

Forthcoming publication in collaboration with Kapallorek Artspace

Official Launch:  27 September 2025 at Rhythm of Identity, Kunstpakhuset, Ikast, Denmark

 

“What begins in silence doesn’t always stay there.”

The Absence Me is an upcoming publication by Amir Zainorin in conversation with Milo V. Poulsen. It is not a memoir, nor a catalogue, but something in between—a poetic, at times absurd, at times painfully honest dialogue between artist and critical companion.

Together, they explore five major artworks, revisit unexhibited pieces, and open the archive of memory, displacement, and fragmented identity. The book blends image, text, contradiction, and reflection—held together not by linearity, but by presence.

It is co-published with Kapallorek Artspace, who generously support the project by providing ISBN registration and guidance in making the book part of Malaysia’s public archive.

The official launch will take place in September 2025, during Amir’s solo exhibition Rhythm of Identity at Kunstpakhuset, Denmark.

---

Coming Soon:

• Preorder information

• Print-on-demand edition

• Audiobook version

• Online excerpts and preview pages

To stay informed, follow updates at www.amirzainorin.com or visit the online exhibition when it opens in Sept. 2025.

 

The Emergence of New-ism: Ritual in Flux

 

From the performance  'Play Time' at FreshWind Biennale Iceland, 2017

The Emergence of New-ism: Ritual in Flux

Introduction: A Practice Beyond the 'Ism'

Art has long been shaped by movements that define creative expression in response to societal, political, and technological changes. But New-ism is not an 'ism' in the traditional sense—there are no fixed rules, no stylistic formulas, and no manifestos set in stone. Instead, New-ism is about practice—a continuous engagement with ritual, process, and transformation. Art is not something to be completed; it is something to be lived.

Artists working in the spirit of New-ism do not approach art as a product but as a repetitive, evolving act. Whether through repetitive mark-making, cutting and reconstructing images, stamping, or layering materials, the focus is not on creating fixed objects but on embracing flux, endurance, and interaction. The emphasis is on presence, process, and transformation over time.

Art as Ritual: The Sacred and the Mutable

Within New-ism, the act of creation becomes a form of ritual. Meaning is not generated from a single moment of completion but through persistent engagement with materials, gestures, and space. Materials are not passive carriers; they are active participants in an ongoing process of change.

A key example of this approach is a durational performance where a space becomes a site of ongoing interaction. In one instance, a cabin was left open for three days and nights, inviting visitors to enter, engage in conversation, and use rubber stamps to imprint words and symbols onto the space. Each visitor left a mark, contributing to the transformation of the environment. The space became a record of participation, a site of exchange where meaning emerged not from the artist’s singular vision but through collective ritual and interaction.

Similarly, artists exploring New-ism often work with materials that are inherently fragile, shifting, and time-sensitive—ink that fades, paper that yellows, ice that melts—to reflect the impermanence of both art and identity. Some deconstruct and reconstruct their own past works, cutting apart collages, paintings, and prints to reassemble them into new configurations, emphasizing cycles of destruction and renewal.

The Liminal Space of Creation

A key principle of New-ism is its focus on the liminal state—the threshold between intention and accident, destruction and reconstruction, presence and absence. The artist becomes a conduit, engaging in an act of surrender where control is relinquished to the ritual itself.

Artists working within New-ism may enact daily rituals of assembling and disassembling, repeat gestures that blur the line between futility and devotion, or embrace the tension of in-between spaces—between cultures, between physical and digital, between personal and collective histories. These works are never static; they are always shifting, dissolving, or regenerating. Unlike past 'isms' that sought to define art as a movement or style, New-ism is an ongoing practice of becoming.

Materials as Memory and Time

New-ism redefines the relationship between material and meaning. Unlike material-based movements such as Abstract Expressionism or Minimalism, this approach does not focus on aesthetic purity or reduction. Instead, it embraces materials as vessels of time and memory. Paper that discolors, ink that fades, or fabric that frays serve as reminders of the passage of time and the act of witnessing change.

Text is also a central practice within New-ism, often appearing in repeated phrases, fragmented writings, or barely visible imprints on surfaces. These textual elements mirror the fading traces of memory, reinforcing the idea that language—like ritual—is both fleeting and eternal.

The Role of the Viewer: Participation as Invocation

In New-ism, the viewer is no longer a passive observer but an essential participant in the ritual. The presence of the audience activates the work, much like a witness in a sacred ceremony. This movement encourages interaction, where viewers may touch, move, or even contribute to the ongoing ritual of creation. Sound, movement, and even breath become part of the work, dissolving boundaries between artist and audience.

In some cases, the viewer might be invited to repeat a simple act—tying knots, placing stones, stamping words onto a surface, whispering phrases—transforming the experience into a communal ritual rather than an isolated artistic event. By engaging in these rituals, both artist and viewer acknowledge the fragility of permanence and the necessity of repetition in constructing meaning.

New-ism in the Contemporary Context

At a time when automation, artificial intelligence, and digital hyper-productivity dominate, New-ism insists on slowness, tactility, and presence. It rejects art as instant spectacle and instead calls for engagement with process over product, experience over display. This movement speaks to those who feel disoriented in an era of rapid change, offering an anchor in the rhythmic, cyclical nature of rituals.

By redefining art as an evolving act rather than a static object, New-ism challenges traditional structures of galleries, museums, and commodification. It embraces fluidity, urging us to see art not as something to be owned but as something to be lived.

Conclusion: The Future of Ritual in Art

New-ism is not simply a movement; it is a state of being, an acknowledgment that art and life are inseparable through ritual. It is an ongoing process, an unfinished manuscript of gestures and meanings yet to be fully understood. As we move forward, this practice will continue to evolve, shaped by artists, audiences, and the moments in between. It is not an art movement in the traditional sense—it is an unfolding process, an open-ended rhythm of change.

Rather than prescribing a fixed method, New-ism invites artists to engage with process, imperfection, repetition, and interaction as tools for meaning-making. It is a practice that honors cycles of making and unmaking, that values experience over outcome, and that sees art as something always in the making.

This is our new ritual. This is New-ism.

From the performance The hand Shake at Port's Residency Program, 2022

 

From the performance X- Box National Art Gallery Malaysia, 2010 

From Installation art at Heerup Museum, Rødover, Denmark, 2004

From Pop Art to Material Memory: Tracing the Evolution of Identity in My Work

 At my solo installation at Budderup Odekirke, Rebild, Denmark-2013

Double Warhol, collage and acrylic on canvas, 1999

Shop til u flop, Collage and acrylic, 2006

 

From Pop Art to the Present: My Evolving Artistic Journey

Art has always been a means of exploring the self and the world, a reflection of both the personal and the collective. My journey as an artist has taken me through various phases, mediums, and concepts, evolving from my early fascination with pop art to a more layered, nuanced practice rooted in history, migration, identity, and materiality. This essay seeks to trace this transition, not as a linear progression, but as an organic unfolding of artistic inquiry, shaped by experiences, influences, and critical moments in my life.

The Early Influence of Pop Art

My initial foray into the art world was heavily influenced by pop art, and it was the work of Malaysian pop artist Jeri Azhari that first inspired me to make art. The bold colors, graphic aesthetics, and mass culture references resonated with me, particularly as someone who grew up in Malaysia surrounded by the imagery of Western consumerism. Even as a child in the 1960s, I was already immersed in pop culture—watching TV series like Lone Ranger, Bonanza, P. Ramlee films and Mickey Mouse, going to the movies to see The Good, The Bad and The Ugly, Bollywood films, and experiencing the thrill of live music when my father, Zainorin Md Dom, sang at festivals and weddings. English pop music were also a major part of my world, like Tom Jones, Elvis Presley and The Beatles.

Pop art, with its irreverence and accessibility, provided an entry point for me to experiment with visual language and engage with the dialogue between high and low art. In the beginning, my work reflected the influences of Jeri himself and other pop artists and surrealists like Salvador Dalí, along with figures such as Andy Warhol, Robert Rauchenberg and Roy Lichtenstein, who blurred the boundaries between fine art and popular culture. I was fascinated by the power of repetition, the appropriation of commercial imagery, and the ways in which pop art critiqued the commodification of culture. This phase of my work was marked by a playful engagement with familiar symbols, often drawing from mass media, making portraits of artists and singers, magazines, political iconography, and everyday objects. Yet, as my artistic journey progressed, I found myself yearning for something deeper—something that could bridge my personal history with broader cultural narratives.

The Shift Toward Personal and Cultural Identity

The seeds of transformation began when I moved from Kuala Lumpur in 1997 to live on Perhentian Island until the end of 1999 before returning to KL. During my time on the island, I started using discarded materials from the sea and incorporating sand into my work, which i continue my practice and artistic approach towards working with found objects and natural elements. In 2001, while doing my residency at Jaguar Motors in KL, I experienced the total loss of all my belongings—a significant event that deserves its own story. Shortly after, in 2002, I met my wife, Pia Poulsen, during a short visit to Yogyakarta. We married soon after, and I followed her back to Copenhagen. However, the transition did not happen immediately when I moved to Denmark. I continued collecting found materials and objects from the streets. My first solo exhibition in a library in Denmark consisted entirely of artworks made from found materials, old magazines, and newspapers, yet I was still using popular images reminiscent of pop art.

Over time, I began experimenting with different mediums, including digital art, video animation, experimental films, performance, and poetry reading. Slowly, I started incorporating photography and rubber stamps into my work, marking a gradual shift towards a more layered and conceptual approach. This period of transition deeply influenced my artistic evolution, prompting me to reflect more on my background and the complex interplay of cultural identity in my life. Growing up in Malaysia, studying in the United States, and eventually settling in Denmark gave me a unique vantage point on issues of migration, belonging, and displacement. My work began shifting from the aesthetics of pop art toward a more introspective approach that examined my own place within historical and contemporary contexts.

I started incorporating historical references, elements of traditional Malay culture and personal artifacts into my work. The use of old passports, maps, rubber stamps, and found objects became central to my practice. My engagement with printmaking, installations, and mixed media allowed me to layer meanings and challenge fixed notions of identity. The transition was not about rejecting pop art but expanding my artistic vocabulary to accommodate more complex, layered storytelling.

Materiality and Conceptual Depth

Over time, my focus turned to materials as carriers of memory and meaning. I found resonance in working with objects that had histories of their own—banknotes, atlases, coins, textiles, and musical instruments such as the Malaysian kompang. Each material introduced a new dimension to my work, allowing me to explore themes of migration, colonial history, and personal displacement in a tactile way.

For example, my kompang project, in which I replaced traditional drum skins with x-ray films, symbolized the merging of personal history with collective identity. The x-rays, sourced from my friends and family, carried traces of human fragility while also representing transparency and transformation. Similarly, my work with old passports and rubber stamps examined the bureaucratic constructs of identity, questioning the arbitrary nature of borders and belonging.

The Present: Open-Ended Narratives and Audience Engagement

Today, my artistic practice is centered on creating open-ended works that invite multiple interpretations. I am less interested in dictating meaning and more in allowing viewers to bring their own perspectives into the work through installation like The Worlds in Nyiru, an installation made of cardboards and pages from atlas, inspired by the Malaysian traditional tray (nyiru) used to separate grain.

This approach aligns with my belief that art should not provide absolute answers but rather pose questions, challenge perceptions, and create space for new ways of thinking. My transition from pop art to my present work has been one of deepening inquiry—moving from the surface appeal of bold imagery to the layered complexity of history, materiality, and experience.

Conclusion

My journey as an artist has been marked by shifts in aesthetic choices, conceptual frameworks, and mediums, but at its core, it has always been about exploration. From the pop art-infused beginnings that engaged with mass culture to the present where I investigate identity, migration, and memory through materials and performance, my work continues to evolve. Art remains a site of negotiation between the personal and the universal, a space where I can navigate my past, present, and future while inviting others to do the same. This transition is not an abandonment of pop art but an expansion—an ever-growing dialogue between the images, materials, and ideas that shape our world.

 

Silver, Acrylic on paper, 2010- from the Most Wanted Series

The Thinker, Collage on polyester, 2006

 

Lincoln, Postcards Assemblage on Softboard, 2013

 

Peti Seni: The Beginning of Spatial and Immersive Experimentation

 

Photos: All photos are credited to En. Ameruddin Ahmad

 

Looking back, my first real experiment with space as a conceptual element began with Peti Seni in 2005 at the National Art Gallery of Malaysia. The project took place within a cabin-like structure, which provided a unique opportunity to explore ideas of containment, transformation, and reflection.

This project was deeply personal and political. That same year, Denmark became the center of global controversy due to the publication of cartoons mocking the Prophet Muhammad in a Danish newspaper. Living in Denmark at the time, I found myself caught between two cultural realities, experiencing the tension from both sides. This moment of conflict and dialogue made me reflect on several crucial questions:

• How do we hold space for multiple perspectives without erasing each other?

• How do materials, space, and text function as carriers of meaning?

• How can installation art act as both a response and a site for contemplation?

In Peti Seni, I used the 99 names of Allah as a central theme, writing each name on pieces of blank paper and attaching them to the walls of the cabin using satay sticks—similar to the sticks used to make satay. These pieces resembled small flags, creating a layered and immersive experience within the space.

The decision to shape them into small flags was intentional. Flags are powerful symbols of identity, belonging, and territory. By transforming sacred names and daily news into flag-like forms, I was questioning the idea of ownership over narratives—whether religious, political, or personal. Who gets to define identity? Who claims space? At the same time, these fragile paper flags, unlike national or institutional banners, were temporary, delicate, and easily moved by air or touch, reflecting the impermanence of power, faith, and information. The way they covered the walls of the cabin created a visual experience akin to waves of shifting messages, mirroring the fluid nature of identity and belief.

The rest of the installation followed the same format, but instead of using blank paper with written text, I cut daily newspapers into the same size and attached them in a similar manner. Newspapers, as carriers of contemporary discourse and political narratives, provided a stark contrast to the sacred names. This juxtaposition of divine words and transient, worldly news emphasized the tension between permanence and impermanence, spirituality and media, and the sacred and the profane. The repetition of these paper flags, whether inscribed or left blank, also suggested a meditative rhythm—an attempt to create a space of reflection amid the chaotic influx of daily information.

Later, I opened the door for public participation, inviting visitors to create their own little flags and place them on the walls and floor. This interactive element transformed the installation into a collaborative experience, emphasizing the communal and evolving nature of meaning-making within the space. By allowing others to contribute their own flags, whether blank or inscribed, the installation became a living space where personal reflections and public discourse intersected.

This was my first significant attempt at using installation art to navigate complex themes of identity, belief, and coexistence—concepts that have continued to shape my artistic practice today.

The experience of Peti Seni laid the groundwork for my ongoing engagement with spatial and immersive installations. It taught me the power of space in storytelling, the potential of text as both material and meaning, and the importance of creating spaces that invite reflection rather than dictate conclusions.

As my practice has evolved, these foundational inquiries remain central to my work. From installations using maps, gauze, and text to performances involving cultural objects, my exploration of space continues to be a dialogue between the personal, the political, and the poetic.

Repeat or To Respond: Discipline vs. Repetition – Don’t Confuse the Two

 

With Malika, home video jamming session

By Amir Zainorin

In creative work—and in life—we often confuse discipline with repetition. They can look similar from the outside: someone doing something day after day. But they grow from very different roots. Understanding the difference can mean the survival of a creative practice—and its capacity to stay alive, connected, and evolving.

Discipline Is Alive

Discipline is intentional, self-aware consistency. It means showing up—not just physically, but mentally, emotionally, and spiritually. It’s about committing to your practice with flexibility, curiosity, and a willingness to shift when something no longer serves you. Discipline asks: Why am I doing this? What does the work need now?

For me, discipline has never meant sticking to one form. When I feel bored or stuck with painting, I move to collage, drawing, or writing. Sometimes, I take a walk or go cycling instead. That act of stepping away isn’t a detachment from art—it’s a way of reentering it through a different door. It connects my practice back to the outside world. The city, the street, the body in motion—all of that feeds the work in ways repetition alone never could.

Discipline includes breaks. Silence. Shifting gears. It includes letting go of what no longer works, even if it once brought success. It’s an ongoing relationship, not a contract carved in stone.

Repetition Can Trap You

Repetition is simply doing something again and again. It can be useful—practice builds fluency, comfort, and confidence—but when repetition becomes mechanical, it loses meaning. You’re just moving your hands, not your mind or heart. It becomes habit, not growth.

There have been times when I’ve noticed this in my own routine. I’d return to the studio, follow the same steps, and make something that felt… empty. Not bad, just hollow. That’s when I knew I wasn’t being disciplined—I was just repeating.

Multiple Roles, One Thread

Throughout my life, I’ve taken on many different roles. I’ve worked in hotels, led art workshops for school children, collaborated with other artists, and organized festivals. Many of these were short-term jobs—woven together out of necessity, curiosity, and survival. There were days when I’d clean rooms in the morning, teach art in the afternoon, and plan a community event at night. Sometimes all in one day.

But these weren’t just jobs—they were learning grounds.

Working in hotels wasn’t just about cleaning—it gave me firsthand insight into the lives of other migrants. I heard their stories, saw how they navigated life in a foreign country, and gained a deeper understanding of labor, struggle, and survival. That experience shaped my view of dignity and resilience—things that quietly enter my art.

The art workshops I facilitated brought me into contact with schools, organizations, and cultural institutions across Denmark. Each collaboration taught me something new—not just about art education, but about how the system works, how access is granted or denied, and how structure and creativity can intersect.

Organizing the Stateless Mind Festival was a whole other kind of discipline. It wasn’t just about curating content—it forced me to learn how to build something from scratch. I had to search for funding, write proposals, plan logistics, and collaborate with people from different backgrounds. It was overwhelming at times, but it gave me clarity, strength, and experience that no studio practice alone could offer.

These different paths might look fragmented to some, but they’re deeply connected. Each role I’ve taken on has shaped the way I see, think, and make. Adaptability became part of my discipline—not a distraction from art, but a way of staying rooted while remaining open.

The Real Difference

Discipline is rooted in intention and awareness. It grows from paying attention and making conscious choices. Repetition, by contrast, is often based in habit or comfort—doing something simply because it’s familiar.

Discipline responds to change and growth. It evolves as you evolve. It allows space to pause, shift direction, or completely reimagine your process. Repetition tends to reinforce routine and familiarity, even when change is needed.

While discipline leads to depth, adaptability, and long-term development, repetition can lead to either mastery or stagnation, depending on whether it’s guided or automatic.

Discipline involves presence, risk, and listening. It’s active. It demands your attention. Repetition, when unchecked, often slips into automation and unthinking cycles—going through the motions without questioning why.

Don’t Mistake the Surface for the Core

You might look at someone working every day and think: How disciplined. But if they’re just repeating the same gesture without question, they may be stuck in a loop.

On the other hand, someone who shifts between roles, pauses when needed, takes time to walk or do other things, and keeps their work connected to the world—they may appear scattered, but in truth, they’re practicing a much deeper discipline. One that listens. One that grows.

Stay Flexible. Stay Awake.

In my practice, I’ve learned that being disciplined doesn’t mean being rigid. It means being honest. It means making space for change—because real discipline is dynamic. It moves with you.

Let repetition be one of your tools—not your master. Let your practice stay curious, connected, and alive.

Keep listening. Keep shifting. That is the deeper form of discipline.

Morning walk in Leipzig, Germany during my art residency at Pilotenkueche, 2022

At Roger Waters concert Copenhagen, 2023

In one of the Greek islands, 2019

Street performance with photographer Maher Khatib, 2010

 

Art workshop in Copenhagen, 2019

Unexhibited collage, 2015

Photo experimentation, 2017

 

Stateless Mid Festival , Venice 2022

 

 

Cartologica

 

Installation Title: Cartologica- (ongoing project)

Medium: Cardboards and Atlas

Size: Variable

Year 2025

Cartologica is a fusion of two core concepts—cartography and logic—that together explore how we map and make sense of the world, both geographically and intellectually. Cartography, the practice of mapping, serves as the foundation for this installation, where hundreds of thin, flat, round cardboard shapes, each hollowed and filled with pages from atlases. These delicate pieces represent not only the physical act of mapping but also the mental landscapes we navigate—our memories, perceptions, and the shifting topographies of identity and history.

The use of atlas pages is intentional—maps are tools that shape our understanding of geography, but they are also tied to the act of migration, displacement, and exploration. These pages symbolize the diverse geographies we inhabit and the complex histories of movement that define both individual and collective identities. These maps, with their fragmented and overlapping territories, reflect the fluid nature of experience and the ongoing process of navigating between places, cultures, and memories.

The second part of the title, logic, introduces the intellectual framework that governs the creation of these maps. It points to the process by which we impose order on the world—through systems of knowledge, reason, and understanding. As we chart the world around us, we use logic to organize our experiences into something coherent, creating personal maps that help us navigate both space and time. The hollow centers of the cardboard pieces symbolize the gaps within memory—spaces between moments and places that remain fluid and malleable, shaped by evolving perspectives.

The cardboard itself serves as a symbol of movement—its lightweight, flexible nature evoking the transient, ever-changing conditions of migration and displacement. The organic arrangement of the pieces reflects the fluidity of migration, the movement from one place to another, and the process of re-establishing oneself in a new space, much like the constant reshaping of personal and collective identities.

In Cartologica, these two elements—cartography and logic—are not fixed. The installation challenges the traditional notion of maps as immutable or static, suggesting instead that our understanding of geography, memory, and identity is constantly shifting. The arrangement of the pieces reflects the unpredictable nature of life, where personal maps are in constant flux, reshaped by new experiences, shifting perspectives, and evolving ways of thinking.

The installation invite us to reflect on our own process of mapping—our personal journeys through time, place, and memory. Cartologica encourages us to reconsider the boundaries we draw in our lives, examining how they are influenced by both the logic of understanding and the fluid, ever-changing landscapes of our experiences.

Exhibition Announcement: NGE-HENG! Refleksi Mental

Exhibition Announcement: NGE-HENG! Refleksi Mental

Out of Nowhere Vol. 2 at Semesta’s Gallery, Jakarta
9–31 August 2025

I'm excited to be participating in the group exhibition “NGE-HENG! Refleksi Mental,” curated by Irene Agrivina, held at Semesta’s Gallery in Jakarta this August. This show is part of the Out of Nowhere Vol. 2 series and brings together artists responding to themes of mental pause, absurdity, and emotional reflection—a timely exploration of disconnection and resilience.

My Work in the Exhibition

Title: Revolusi Lembut (Soft Revolution)

Artist: Amir Zainorin

Materials: Bamboo poles, rotating motors, fabric bandages, ink

Year: 2025

Dimensions: Variable (site-responsive)

Artwork Statement:
Three bamboo poles wrapped in hand-inked bandages slowly rotate from the ceiling. Phrases like “BBBBlack is ordinary” and “TRUE clr = INSIDE” emerge and disappear between folds. The motion blurs the text, turning language into texture. Soft Revolution reflects on identity, erasure, and healing—where only parts are visible, and softness holds a quiet strength.

Exhibition Theme: NGE-HENG! Refleksi Mental

“Nge-heng,” in Indonesian slang, refers to a frozen state—like a mental crash or system halt. This exhibition presents artistic reflections on psychological glitches, emotional stagnation, and poetic reboots. How do we confront stasis? What surfaces during breakdown?

Opening Ceremony

Saturday, 9 August 2025
3:00 PM (WIB)
Special Guest: Cosmas D. Gozali

Venue

Semesta’s Gallery
Jl. Taman Sari No. 77 Kav. 9, RT3/RW3, Lebak Bulus
Cilandak District, South Jakarta, Indonesia

Curator

Irene Agrivina

Selected Participating Artists Include:

• Amir Zainorin (Copenhagen)
• Alfiah Rahdini (Yogyakarta)
• Bob Marijinal (Jakarta)
• Dave Syauta (Bandung)
• Erwin Erlangga x Paulina (Bandung)
• Ismet ZE (Bandung)
• Nayera Subaih (Egypt)
• Secret of the Sun (Bekasi)
• Patub Porx (Yogyakarta)
• ...and many more (see full list in the flyer).

Contact: Gigz Chandra (+62 896 7660 2898)

Media Partners: TEMPO, Whiteboard Journal, Pop Hari Ini, and others

If you're in Jakarta this August, come by and experience this wide-ranging reflection on contemporary states of mind. I’ll also be sharing documentation after the opening.

Thanks for reading,
— Amir

Stateless Mind Pavilion: An Exploration of Belonging, Displacement, and Rebellion

  

The Stateless Mind Pavilion is more than just a space—it is a dynamic hub of interaction and dialogue. Designed to foster cross-cultural exchange and understanding, the Pavilion hosts an array of interactive events, including artist talks, workshops, performances, and panel discussions. Its mission is rooted in facilitating meaningful conversations about belonging, identity, and displacement, themes that resonate deeply through the "In Between Worlds" exhibition. Guided by the artist and curator’s narratives, visitors are invited to embark on a visual and emotional journey, discovering the complexities of existing between multiple worlds.

 

Origins of the Stateless Mind Pavilion

The Stateless Mind Pavilion finds its roots in the Stateless Mind Festivals, organized by Jambatan. Jambatan itself was founded in 2009 by Pia Poulsen and I, as a bridge between artistic communities in Malaysia and Denmark. This vision was brought to life when Nur Hanim Khairuddin—now the General Manager of PORT—and I co-organized the Malaysian Art Festival at the Museum of Contemporary Art Roskilde and Gallery Shambala in Copenhagen in 2010. These early efforts planted the seeds for what would later evolve into the Stateless Mind Pavilion.

After a brief hiatus, I reactivated Jambatan in 2019, organizing the Stateless Mind Festival for the first time. This resurgence brought a renewed focus on challenging conventional boundaries and celebrating the richness of cross-cultural narratives. However, the true genesis of the Stateless Mind Pavilion came during my collaboration with PORT for their participation in the 59th Venice Biennale as part of a collateral event. Interestingly, while planning this, we were informed that the term "pavilion" could not be used unless it represented a national entity. This restriction became the catalyst for the Stateless Mind Pavilion.

The Stateless Mind Pavilion was officially activated during my solo show at Kapallorek. The Pavilion also showcases an archive of activities from past Stateless Mind Festivals, providing visitors with a historical context and a deeper understanding of its evolution. This marked a pivotal moment, situating the Pavilion as an evolving platform for dialogue and exchange. It will be fascinating to see how it develops in the future, continuing to challenge norms and create spaces for meaningful interaction.

 

A Rebellion Against Conformity

The Stateless Mind Pavilion was born out of a spirit of rebellion. Its creation represents a refusal to adhere to institutional rules and a declaration of independence from imposed limitations.  

In essence, the Stateless Mind Pavilion challenges the notion of conformity. It embodies the idea of making one’s own rules, charting one’s own path, and dictating one’s own journey. It questions the validity of man-made restrictions imposed by institutions, governments, or even familial expectations. By doing so, the Pavilion becomes a symbol of empowerment, encouraging individuals to embrace their unique identities and stories.

 

A Platform for Dialogue and Exchange

The Stateless Mind Pavilion serves as a sanctuary for artists, thinkers, and audiences to engage in open dialogue and to offers participants a chance to share, learn, and connect in profound ways—to create a platform for artists who live between worlds, who don’t fit into neat categories, who are constantly negotiating their place in different systems where in-betweenness is not a limitation, but a creative force.

 

Link to previous Stateless Mind Festivals:

https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100064468159134

https://portperakvenice.wordpress.com/amir-zainorin/

 

Continuing the Journey Across Borders: A Collaboration with Ronnie Bahari

 In Across Borders, my artistic journey delves deeper into tradition and cultural storytelling through a meaningful collaboration with Ronnie Bahari, an Indigenous Semai photographer and cultural leader from Ipoh, Perak, Malaysia.

This is not the first time Ronnie and I have worked together. During my residency at PORT Ipoh in 2022, a time when the world was just beginning to recover from the COVID-19 pandemic, we embarked on a project exploring the natural and cultural landscapes of Lembah Kinta. Together, we ventured into its magnificent caves, where I filmed Ronnie for a video piece titled Cave Man. The video captured the essence of those excursions and marked the beginning of our creative partnership.

Link to the video 'Cave Man'- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7m75kP8NDDM&t=338s

Fast forward a couple of years, when Fadly Sabran of Kapallorek invited me to organize my solo exhibition at his space in Malaysia. While I live in Copenhagen, Denmark, and only visit Malaysia for specific projects, I saw this as an opportunity to reconnect creatively with Ronnie. I envisioned including a new work in the exhibition that would not only reignite our collaboration but also pay homage to our shared history. It felt fitting to bring Kapallorek into this collaboration, as Fadly and Ronnie had previously worked together for PORT’s Venice Biennale project.

When I shared the concept of this new collaboration with Ronnie, he enthusiastically agreed. While I remained in Copenhagen, Ronnie took the lead in creating the handmade paper from pandanus leaves and then produced a couple of images inspired by the ancient cave drawings we had encountered in Lembah Kinta. In response to his imagery, I crafted accompanying text that wove together personal reflections and cultural narratives, creating a dialogue between our individual contributions. The resulting work highlights the interplay of visual and textual storytelling, honoring both the tangible and intangible elements of Malaysian heritage.

This project is more than just a creative endeavor; it is a celebration of enduring connections and shared artistry that span time and distance. It underscores the importance of preserving and reimagining traditions while fostering dialogue between local communities and global audiences. By intertwining our creative practices, Across Borders offers a tactile, visual, and emotional connection to the stories of Malaysia’s land, people, and culture.

Ronnie at his studio at Polytechnic Ungku Omar, Ipoh and Anna.

Reduced to One: How 'no idea' Stole the Show

  No Idea has been on quite a journey. It all started back in 2012 with my photo performance, Sign of Times @ Copenhagen. Teaming up with photographer Maher Khatib, we roamed Copenhagen on Maher's car for a day, holding up signs and asking passersby, “What pops into your mind when I say the word ‘No?’”

The responses were as varied as the people themselves—some funny, some thought-provoking, and some downright puzzling. Somewhere in that mix, No Idea was born—a phrase so simple, yet so full of possibilities.

Fast forward to 2022, during my residency at Fyns Grafiske Værksted / Funen Printmaking Studio in Odense. No Idea resurfaced as part of a text-based series silkscreened onto pages of an old Danish atlas. The combination of familiar phrases and intricate maps created a playful tension, inviting viewers to find connections between language and geography.

When it came time to exhibit the works at Kapallorek Artspace for my solo show In Between Worlds, nine pieces from the series made the initial cut. They were arranged on the wall, and the process of figuring out their placement became a project in itself. Enter Akmal Sabran, the ever-patient technician, and Anna Cuomo, the curator, who suggested mounting the works on boards to give them a cleaner, more polished look.

And then came the magic moment. Akmal placed No Idea right in the center of the wall. Anna and I looked at each other—both amused and intrigued. It just worked. Suddenly, it felt like the rest of the series was unnecessary. No Idea stood there, holding its own, commanding attention. Less is more, they say—and in this case, it couldn’t have been truer.

What started as nine works became one. Reduced to a single piece, the series transformed into a statement about simplicity, focus, and perhaps the power of a well-placed idea. It was as if No Idea was winking at us, saying, “I’ve got this.”

This unexpected twist got me thinking about how I might approach exhibiting the full series in the future. For now, though, I’m enjoying how No Idea managed to steal the show—proving that sometimes, the best ideas come from no idea at all.

 

Art as a Stubborn Journey to Empathy

  

Artworks from 'Atlas of Being ' series

 

Art as a Stubborn Journey to Empathy

Art is about being stubborn. It begins with the refusal to give in—to the pressures of conformity, the weight of doubt, or the noise of distractions. This stubbornness isn’t about arrogance; it’s about conviction. It’s about standing firm in the face of uncertainty, choosing to believe that something within you is worth exploring, worth bringing into existence, even if the world doesn’t immediately understand or value it.

But stubbornness isn’t without consequence. It thickens your skin. Rejections, misunderstandings, and failures become familiar companions, teaching you resilience. Over time, this "thickness" shields you from external judgment and self-doubt, allowing you to remain on the path, even when it feels like no one else sees what you see.

And yet, it’s in this space of stubborn persistence and thickened defenses that reflection begins. The solitude of creating—the repetition, the experimentation, the endless wrestling with ideas—forces you to look inward. You start to see yourself not just as the creator but as a human being in all your complexity: flawed, searching, vulnerable.

This self-reflection opens the door to empathy. As you navigate your own struggles, you recognize them in others. The stories you tell through your art become not just about you but about the shared experiences of humanity. Stubbornness, thick skin, and introspection evolve into compassion. You realize that art is not merely an act of self-expression; it’s a bridge to connect with others, to feel their joys, sorrows, and aspirations as if they were your own.

In the end, art is the process of being stubborn enough to create, thick enough to endure, and open enough to reflect. And in doing so, it transforms both the artist and the audience, fostering empathy in a world that so desperately needs it.

 

 

Echoes of History: A Glimpse into Malaysia’s Past

 

Echoes of History is a deeply personal series where I explore Malaysia’s complex history between 1941 and 1968. Using meticulous ink-on-paper works, I bring to life significant moments of the country’s past, drawing from archival news clippings and historical publications. My research primarily focuses on two newspapers—Berita Harian and New Straits Times—with all articles sourced from the National Library Board of Singapore.

At first glance, the works appear as if they were digitally printed, but a closer look reveals the intricate details of my handwriting. This intentional technique blurs the line between machine and manual, evoking a sense of nostalgia and intimacy. All the pieces have been blown up to a much larger scale than their original size, emphasizing the weight and significance of the historical narratives they depict.

This project is not about challenging viewers but rather a journey of self-exploration, driven by my curiosity about the past. Having often been asked about my background, I was inspired to delve into the history of Malaysia and the region around it. Through this process, I uncovered layers of narratives from an era marked by war, independence, and transformation. The result is a layered installation where historical events merge with the surrounding space, offering a glimpse into the stories that shaped the nation’s identity.

Adding depth to the exhibition is the accompanying video installation, Navigating History, located within my private studio at Kapallorek Artspace, Malaysia. This segment provides an intimate view of the process, capturing the dedication and thoughtfulness that went into bringing this work to life. It reveals the interplay between my curiosity and the archival material, reflecting how history informs my understanding of the present.

With Echoes of History, I am not only preserving fragments of Malaysia’s past but also engaging in a personal dialogue with history. This work represents my effort to connect with the stories that define the region and its people, helping me better understand my own identity and place within this historical continuum.