CAES 1000 Core University English

QUESTIONS AND COMMON SOURCES FOR FIRST

TUTORIAL DISCUSSION - WEEK 8

Should street art be regulated?

The journal article given to you expresses a nuanced (complex/not black and
white) academic stance.

Remember to read the text critically.

To do this, you need to ask yourself which ideas you agree with in the
text and which you don't and why. This should begin to help you develop
your own stance. Then, look for 2 other reading texts which will help
you to further explain / justify your stance in the tutorial discussion.

Use the Tutorial Discussion Notesheet to make notes on the ideas / data
from the 3 texts you have read.

Be ready to explain the ideas /data from the 3 texts in the tutorial
discussion.

Reference:

Chang, T. C. (2019). Writing on the wall: Street art in graffiti-free Singapore.

International Journal of Urban and Regional Research, 6(43), 1046-
1063.
INSTRUCTIONS FOR HOW TO USE THE READING TEXT

1. SCANNING

A lot of texts you will need to read for the Common Core Courses are long. For this
reason, you need to practise scanning i.e. hunting for useful and relevant information.

When you scan, you need to know:

• what kind of information you are looking for (Re-read the discussion topic)

• where or which part of the text you are reading is likely to have this information

Both journal articles and reports tend to have a similar structure:

· a summary of ideas in the text at the beginning (called an abstract in a journal

article and introduction / summary in a report)
· some sections with headings showing you how information is organized in the text
· a conclusion summarizing the main points

Use this knowledge of text structure to help you increase the speed of your reading by
scanning over information which is not relevant and then reading information in more
depth when you come to useful information.

2. CRITICAL READING

You also need to read the text critically.

To do this, you need to constantly ask yourself which ideas you agree with in the text
and which you don’t and why. This should begin to help you develop your own
stance.
 INTERNATIONAL JOURNAL OF URBAN AND REGIONAL RESEARCH 1046
DOI:10.1111/1468-2427.12653

— WRITING ON THE WALL: Street Art in

Graffiti-free Singapore
t.c. chang

Abstract
The legalization of graffiti in many cities has impacted urban landscapes and the
way artists and the public view graffiti, street art and the city as well. This article considers
the genesis, process and consequences of legal walls programmes firstly by introducing
and differentiating the key terms ‘graffiti’, ‘street art’ and ‘legal walls’, then by examining
an empirical case, that of Singapore. Renowned as a graffiti-averse and litter-free city,
Singapore’s recent about-turn in legalizing illicit art forms illustrates changing government
perspectives on creativity and legality in the country. Why the government has effected this
change, how artists and members of the public have responded to it and the resultant art
forms are critically explored. The conclusion reflects on four key lessons from Singapore
for cities in general.

Introduction
In May 2012, Samantha Lo was arrested for creating graffiti in Singapore. Her
crimes included stencilling different messages on public roads (e.g. ‘my grandfather
road’) and pasting stickers at traffic lights (with messages like ‘press for good luck’,
‘press to cross grandfather road’ etc.). While awaiting trial, a groundswell of public
support emerged around her. ‘I don’t see street art as being the same as graffiti or
vandalism … it is almost impossible to talk about developing a culturally vibrant, creative
or loveable city, without some tolerance for those slightly messy activities that
sometimes challenge the rules’ argued Nominated Member of Parliament Janice Koh
(cited in Tong, 2012). An on-line petition seeking to reduce the charge Lo was facing
from vandalism to mischief generated 15,000 signatures. A social media post asked ‘You
call this vandalism? This is encouraging art and creativity, do we need a licence to be
creative?’ (cited in Aw, 2012).
In March 2013, Lo was charged with 15 counts of mischief and given 240 hours of
community service. If charged with vandalism, she could have been jailed for up to three
years and fined S $2,000 (around US $1,480 in September 2017). Despite (or because
of ) her notoriety, her popularity as an artist grew. Local gallery Goldmann Inc. sold all
five sets of Lo’s works, each costing S $8,000 at the Affordable Art Fair 2013. Lo’s ‘press
for good luck’ stickers were also manufactured for sale. To commemorate National Day
2013, Lo was even commissioned by Sentosa Development Corporation to create public
art on its grounds (Sentosa is Singapore’s foremost island resort). Lo devised irreverent
signs that said, for example, ‘Way too hot, wear less’ and ‘Keep our city clean’ (with
the image of a person disposing of his/her brain). A spokesperson for Sentosa Leisure
Management proclaimed: ‘with Sam’s creative expression, display, and appreciation of
the Singaporean way of life, she is able to translate that to simple messages that appeal
to both local and international audiences. The delivery is fun, witty, tongue-in-cheek,
yet relevant’ (cited in Williams, 2013).
Lo’s crossover from ‘underground to mainstream’ (Oon, 2015: 119) saw her
transition from an alleged vandal to an in-demand Singaporean artist. What started as a
vandalism charge was commuted to mischief before it was recognized as art in the court
of public judgement. Journalist Clarissa Oon (2015: 119) explained that Lo is ‘emblematic

I wish to thank the three IJURR reviewers for their insightful comments and suggestions. I should also like to express
appreciation to the National University of Singapore for funding this study (R-009-000-176-101), Vanessa for her
assistance and all the interviewees for their contributions.
© 2018 urban research publications limited
 WRITING ON THE WALL 1047

of the fraught and complex position of artists in a state for which economic growth
and public order have always been the foremost priorities.’ Indeed, Lo’s case throws
up questions about the legality of certain art forms and the public response to creative
expression. Her positions reflect the questions that usually attend graffiti: ‘is it art or
crime; is it public or private; is it cultural or is it economic; should it be ephemeral or
permanent?’ (McAuliffe and Iveson, 2011: 130). It is difficult to locate graffiti and street
art exclusively on either side of any of these dualisms.
Examining the fine line between graffiti and street art, this article considers
emergent questions about when the ‘illegal’ becomes ‘legal’. Some questions include:
What is the difference between graffiti and street art?; What purposes does street art
serve?; and Who does the art benefit––artist, public, the state, all of the above or none
at all? (see Creswell, 1996 and Dickens, 2008 who also raised similar questions). In
the next section, graffiti and street art are defined and differentiated. The concept
of legal walls is then introduced as a way for cities to negotiate the graffiti–street art
divide. The empirics that follow are then organized into three sections. Firstly, the
Singapore government’s stance vis-à-vis graffiti and street art is considered along with
the genesis of legal walls in the city and attendant regulations. This is followed by an
examination of how artists feel about the legalization of illicit art forms before a study
of public sentiments and engagement with street art in the city. In the conclusion, the
broader implications of legal walls and the urban lessons to be drawn from them are
contemplated.

Graffiti, street art and legal walls

Three terms are first defined. They are ‘graffiti’, ‘street art’ and ‘legal walls’.
Since a Greek-American teenager named Demetrius first tagged his code-name
‘TAKI 183’ on streets, trains and subway stations in the late-1960s (Castleman, 1982),
graffiti has been criticized as a ‘public nuisance’ and ‘urban epidemic’ in cities like
New York and Philadelphia, and increasingly throughout the Western world (Ley
and Cybriwsky, 1974: 491). As an umbrella term, graffiti refers to any unsolicited
urban inscription in the form of ‘tags’ (signatures), ‘throw ups’ (tags with bubble-
shaped letters) and ‘pieces’ (‘masterpieces’; larger and more complex works) most
often using markers and aerosol sprays, with the earliest to be found on trains (Ferrell,
1998; Dickens, 2008; Valjakka, 2015). Done by individual writers or ‘crews’ (groups),
graffiti has been described as rebellious vandalism, an outlet for creative expression,
a claim on space and, for some, a way to assert their autonomy from dominant social
groups particularly the state (Kramer, 2010). It is this oppositional stance that has
earned graffiti its outsider reputation. Throughout the 1970s and beyond, the main
discourse surrounding graffiti is that of filth, disorder and non-belonging, an ‘out of
place’ phenomenon at odds with community sentiments of ‘neighbourliness, order,
property’ (Creswell, 1996: 40).
As the first geographers to study urban graffiti, Ley and Cybriwsky (1974)
argued for a closer understanding of its ‘social process’ and resultant ‘spatial order’.
How and why graffiti emerges and our response to it (‘process’) offer insights
into what people (including residents, authorities, policymakers and writers) feel
about their city and their conduct within it. More than just a mark of territoriality,
graffiti reflects and invokes different ‘dispositions to behavior’ (Ley and Cybriwsky,
1974: 505). The ‘Broken Windows Policy’ represents one such disposition, in which
any trace of graffiti is regarded by the authorities as criminal and to be immediately
erased for fear of inciting more graffiti and related crimes (Wilson and Kelling,
1982). Other dispositions to behaviour include sympathetic interpretations of graffiti
as decoration, soliciting more of such works in the city, or hostile views of it as
defacement of walls in opposition to the authorities or as a challenge to other writers
and rival groups.
 CHANG 1048

While graffiti is most commonly regarded as illegal markings, others view it more
favourably as an art form and synonymize it with urban art, aerosol art and outsider
art (Ellsworth-Jones, 2012; Teh, 2012). The embracement of graffiti within the art
world leads us to a second key term––street art. While graffiti and street art have been
used interchangeably, there are identifiable differences. The two terms are distinct in
Singapore and it was the distinctions between them that were hotly debated in Samantha
Lo’s case. While Lo was originally arrested for vandalism (graffiti), public sentiments
lauded her instead as a street artist. With its roots in the subculture of illegal writing,
visual street art came to be recognized as an art form in the late 1980s/early 1990s when
writers made creative use of stencils, stickers, posters, woodcuts, wheat-paste as well
as objects like metal bolts, knits and yarns in public projects (McAuliffe, 2012; Young,
2014). Unlike graffiti, street art is known for its ‘publicness’. While graffiti is written
only for other writers to see/read/understand, street art is meant to be communicated
to members of the public using decipherable letter styles and iconography drawn
from pop-culture and even mainstream advertisements (McAuliffe and Iveson, 2011).
A former graffitist expressed the difference this way: in graffiti ‘[w]e’re not talking to
anyone out there apart from ourselves … It’s all about us and our peers. It’s not about
the public’; street art is ‘all about the public … and [street artists] are producing images
that are instantly understandable––a gallery on the street that is inclusive rather than
exclusive’ (cited in Ellsworth-Jones, 2012: 38–9, original emphasis).
Drawing on interviews with 64 street artists in South Australia, Young (2014)
outlined a few more characteristics of street art. The significance of the prefix ‘street’
must be noted. The street plays an important role either by serving as an inspiration
to the artist or by providing a locational context that gives meaning to a work. The
accessibility of the work (on streets but also back-lanes and other public sites) conveys
the democratic nature of the art. In graffiti, such a nuanced consideration of the ‘street’
is often absent. However, as with graffiti, permission is never sought for street art and
there are usually no commercial gains to be made. The main motivation for the artist is
to change the way people think about and relate to public spaces and society. For this
reason, street art is often described as ‘critical or oppositional’, standing for or ‘against
something’, a public testimony of the artist’s private thoughts (ibid.: 28–9).
Not all authors, however, make a distinction between graffiti and street art or
feel the need to (e.g. Young, 2010; Valjakka, 2014). The two terms are thus synonymous
for some. Valjakka (2014), for example, embraces all forms of visual markings as ‘urban
art images’ and their writers/artists as ‘creators’. In the Singapore context, the two
terms are distinct and dualistically (some might say simplistically) opposed in the
form of ‘illegal graffiti’ and ‘legal street art’. Any work in public space that has not been
authorized (regardless of its artistic appeal) is regarded as graffiti and perpetrators will
be prosecuted. Street art on the other hand refers to ‘legally commissioned work done
on the street or work sold in galleries by graffiti artists’ (Ong, 2016: 233), a trend that
Singapore is encouraging today. This distinction will be used throughout the article in
the Singapore context; the only exception is when the terms are used interchangeably
by specific authors in non-Singapore settings.
Since the 1970s, changes in the practice of graffiti and street art have taken place.
In New York, Queens and Brooklyn, Kramer (2010) observed that graffiti has moved
‘above ground’ from trains and subway stations to buildings, highways, factories and
school yards. Since the 1990s, some graffitists have also gone ‘legal’ and seek permission
from building owners to execute their work. These legalized forms have been described
as graffiti art (as opposed to graffiti) or simply street art (Austin, 2010). Interviews with
writers suggest different reasons for ‘going legal’. While some see it as a way to prolong
their practice without being criminalized, others express a ‘desire to participate in
society’ by contributing to neighbourhood enhancement (Kramer, 2010: 246). Yet others
see legal works as a means to transition into formal programmes like New York City’s
 WRITING ON THE WALL 1049

Arts for Transit or to work with commercial organizations that can provide sustained
sources of finance (Kramer, 2010: 247–8). In a phenomenon that Dickens (2008: 476)
terms ‘post-graffiti’, he observed that legal writers are less influenced by grassroots
concerns and ‘more conscious in their efforts to organize and promote themselves
within more formal art and commercial spheres’. Preferring to use studios over the
‘“time lean” conditions on the street’, and moving between legal and counter cultures,
post-graffiti writers negotiate entirely different sets of challenges and opportunities
from their earlier illegal counterparts (ibid.: 480).
The transition from illicit works to legal art brings us to the concept of legal
walls. The term first emerged as an enforcement strategy proposed and implemented in
cities to fight graffiti. The ‘graffiti as graffiti prevention’ approach was pioneered in Los
Angeles in the 1980s (followed later by Australia, France, Canada) in which ‘legal aerosol
art projects and youth programs’ were created to redirect writers from illicit graffiti to
legal projects (Lombard, 2013: 260). De-criminalizing graffiti and illicit street art and
acknowledging their aesthetic value provided a new way to combat illegal works and
undertake public art planning. In Australia, the Queensland Department of Justice was
the first to draw a distinction between ‘graffiti vandalism’ and ‘graffiti art or aerosol art’
in 1988, the latter deemed legal if commissioned (ibid.: 261). Legal walls thus serve as
diversionary schemes aimed at youths who might otherwise slide into criminal activities
while curbing illicit writings elsewhere in the city.
The implementation of legal walls varies in terms of motives and outcomes. As
early as 2002, a Graffiti Management Plan was implemented in Parramatta to focus on
enforcement and removal of illegal works. This was followed two years later when the
Parramatta Council in Sydney designated 13 walls spread across seven sites. The Graffiti
Management Plan, while not part of the city’s larger cultural plans (Cultural Places
Framework, 2005 and Public Art Policy, 2005), came under the city’s Crime Prevention
Plan 2008–2013 (McAuliffe, 2013). Reactions to the legal walls have been diverse. In
some parts of the city, experienced and new writers worked side by side, with senior
writers organizing workshops for the initiates. In other instances, writers defaced walls
in opposition to the scheme. It was also documented that some writers have transitioned
into legitimate careers as creative workers (e.g. by starting design businesses or running
youth workshops) or resumed school for a design degree (ibid.). Inspired by what they
saw on legal walls, some artists outside the programme have even negotiated with
private wall owners for opportunities to write (McAuliffe and Iveson, 2011).
In the US, one of the earliest legal walls appeared in Denver. In 1988, the Mayor
proposed a graffiti zone called ‘artway’ along a walkway beside a construction site. A
local publication described the scheme as ‘authorised public art projects to channel
talented artists away from destructive graffiti vandalism’ (cited in Ferrell, 1993: 131).
Writers had access to a temporary studio and were offered spray cans by a contractor.
Artway was supposed be a ‘permanent graffiti art zone’ but it did not work because of
the poor mounting of works, the presence of non-graffiti art and unauthorized tagging
by those who disapproved of the scheme (ibid.: 132). While some have criticized the
programme as government ‘soft control’, others describe it as a ‘PR scheme’ (ibid.:
131). In what is described as a battle over style, the artway became a contested ground
between government planners who intended the space for private consumption and
political control, and writers/artists hoping to express themselves without any societal
expectations (ibid.).
While Australian and American cities have had a long tradition of fighting
graffiti, some Asian cities (including Singapore) have created legal walls without having
encountered protracted problems with illegal writing. Why and how legal walls came
about in such places should thus be interrogated. An example is the world’s largest legal
wall, Chongqing Graffiti Avenue (China), the outcome of an elaborate state-engineered
programme spanning over 1.25 km covering buildings and walls, and involving 800 art
 CHANG 1050

academy students, school children and hired workers. Completed in 2007, the municipal
state was the ‘producer, initiator, and patron’ of the project (Pan, 2014: 145). The end
result is a mélange of colours and styles hinting at the city’s creativity, freedom and
liberalism. Pan, however, described the programme as ‘an artificial “artificial madness”,
without the possibility of explosion or implosion, having been regulated from the very
beginning’ (ibid.: 144). Unlike the West, there is no tradition of graffiti or historical
demarcation of high/low art in China. Chongqing’s graffiti is thus ‘a text with an absent
or undefined context … used by the state as a part of its totalizing visual tool’ (ibid.: 144).
Co-opted to project the city’s creative flair and artistic presence, graffiti and street art
are branding opportunities aimed at cultural boosterism and attracting creative workers
and tourists to the city.
The Chongqing example raises questions over what is graffiti and what is street
art, and who decides. Valjakka (2015: 258) contends that what we see in Chongqing
is not true graffiti because it involves mostly art students, has no connection to local
writers/artists, and the works were vetted by city officials. Instead the whole exercise
is about ‘keeping up appearances of the city officials’, and testimony of a state’s ability
to mobilize the masses. State planners decide what is graffiti/art often on the basis of
the location of a work and its contribution to the place. If graffiti adds value to a place
and promotes community bonding, it is viewed positively as ‘symbolic capital’ and a
dimension of ‘place branding’ (Dovey et al., 2012: 39). The ‘aesthetics of authority’––
what government planners consider as aesthetically appropriate––is thus predicated
on the economic value that the work brings to a place and the control the authority has
over that space (Ferrell, 1993: 178).1
This article is focused on legal street art in Singapore. Government officers from
two key agencies, the Urban Redevelopment Authority (URA) and the National Arts
Council (NAC), were interviewed with respect to the selection and implementation
of legal walls since the early 2010s. While the URA’s PubliCity scheme provided the
basic framework for artistic involvement, it was the NAC’s specific oversight of the Rail
Corridor (where a state-approved wall is located) that merits closer study. A total of
seven writers/artists were also interviewed on their involvement in legal walls. A key
informant is RSCLS, a non-profit organization founded by a street artist (also the first
such artist to be awarded the Young Artist Award in 2013 for significant contributions
to Singapore’s cultural scene). RSCLS played an important curatorial role at the Rail
Corridor, serving as an intermediary between the state and artists. Issues about artistic
involvement and what might be regarded as state co-option were discussed. For
confidentiality reasons, quotes that are used throughout this article are unattributed.
In terms of field sites, two key places were visited and photographed in 2014 and
2015. They were the Rail Corridor and Kampong Glam. The former is a 24-kilometre
strip of green space where a railway line connecting Singapore with Malaysia (1923–
2011) once ran. The closure of the railway allowed the corridor to be reused for
recreational purposes. In 2014 the government allowed two walls to be adorned with
street art, and RSCLS was chosen to curate the artists and their works. The types of
works are a mix of graffiti-inspired tags and colourful graphics of people, geometric
shapes and objects. Unlike the verdant environment of the Rail Corridor, Kampong
Glam is a historic ethnic neighbourhood not far from downtown Singapore. Here, street
art has appeared on privately owned building facades and in alley ways and back-lanes
since the early 2010s. Like the Rail Corridor, the works are a mix of tags, geometric

1 Aesthetic valuation is not the same as legal valuation; the fact that something looks good does not mean it is legal.
This is the case in Singapore, but Ferrell’s (1993) ‘aesthetics of authority’ argument is a persuasive one. He contends
that state authorities have a particular aesthetic standard and public works that are clean, orderly and planned are
often permitted, while works that are viewed as unplanned, chaotic and disorderly are not approved. The merging
of aesthetic and legal valuation comes down to the ability of the state to control public art: that which can be
controlled is legalized and hence aesthetic.
 WRITING ON THE WALL 1051

shapes and highly elaborate ‘pieces’ done by commissioned artists (although in some
cases, without prior government approval). Kampong Glam is a multi-functional site
famed for its historical appeal, fabric shops, boutiques and eateries.
At both the Rail Corridor and Kampong Glam, the types of art were recorded
and visitors to the latter were also interviewed. A total of 23 interviewees (comprising
local visitors and tourists) were involved; it must be noted that members of the public
are casual rather than informed visitors to the site. Despite their non-expert status, their
comments provided unfiltered views on how the pedestrian public feels about legal
walls in Singapore. Some foreign visitors also volunteered insights on street art in their
homelands, providing useful comparisons across countries.

State perspectives on street art: creativity (un)leashed?

The Singapore government’s sanctioning of illicit works is evidence of a desire
to stimulate creativity in the city and community. In this section evolving state attitudes
are explored and possible reasons for a softening stance proposed. I also observe that
government regulations have not been entirely loosened, to prevent the dangers of
having ‘too much creativity’ in the country. Hence, while public wall markings have been
gradually legalized, legislative guidelines remain in place on what, how and where such
works may be allowed to flourish.
The Vandalism Act in Singapore (Chapter 341, Section 2aii, originally enacted
in 1966 and revised in 2014) defines vandalism as ‘writing, drawing, painting, marking
or inscribing on any public property or private property any word, slogan, caricature,
drawing, mark, symbol or other thing’ without permission of an ‘authorised officer or
representative of the Government’ (Attorney-General’s Chambers, 1966). The act also
covers posters, advertisements and notices. Although no specific mention is made of art
works, the act is broad enough to define any form of illicit aesthetic work as vandalism.
Permitted art works in Singapore have traditionally been called ‘public art’ or ‘murals’
and are often in the form of sculptures, mosaic walls and painted tableaus by recognized
artists, school students and resident committees (URA, 2004; Chang, 2008). The term
‘street art’ had never appeared in government documents or political speeches (Seah,
2016) until the introduction of the ‘PubliCity’ programme (to be elaborated below). It
was not until 2012/13 that a softening by the state was first noted, manifested in at least
three forms. The first was Samantha Lo’s arrest in 2012 and the public uproar over
her criminalization. Arising from debates on the need to differentiate between graffiti
and art, the commuting of Lo’s act from vandalism to mischief brought a measure of
public relief and awareness that the government was prepared to accept alternative
forms of public art (Ong, 2016). A second piece of evidence is the fact that Mohammed
Zulkarnaen Othman, founder of art collective RSCLS (which specializes in street art)
was awarded the NAC Young Artist Award in 2013. This was the first time that an artist
in this genre had been recognized by the state for their societal contributions.
The third and most significant evidence of government acceptance was the
launch of the URA’s PubliCity programme in November 2013, an initiative aimed
at enlivening public spaces through good design and community inputs on urban
enhancement. The URA explained that the ‘creation and development of well-designed
public spaces provide areas for people to gather for social activities and serve as leisure
and recreational spaces’ (URA, 2018). Under PubliCity, a one-year street art space
was developed in 2014 by the URA and NAC with support from the Singapore Land
Authority (SLA) and Land Transport Authority (LTA). This space was along the Rail
Corridor, a defunct railway track. RSCLS, an art collective, received NAC seed-funding
in 2014 to curate the space below the Commonwealth Avenue viaduct (see Figure 1).
Two five-metre-high walls were turned over to street artists, with the surrounding
areas open to art-related events (Said and Kaur, 2015). NAC’s Director of Arts and Youth
explained why street art was chosen:
 CHANG 1052

figure 1 Street art along the Rail Corridor (photo by the author, November 2016)

Street artists and their work are an exciting part of Singapore’s diverse and
vibrant arts scene. We hope that by facilitating dedicated art spaces, like the one
along the Rail Corridor, street artists can have the physical and artistic room to
express themselves and practice their craft. This is critical to the development of
the Singapore street art scene, which the Council will continue to support through
grants, spaces and public engagement about the value of street art. (URA, 2013)

It must be noted that ‘street art’ is the term used by government officers. In my
interviews with URA and NAC, I initially used the term ‘graffiti’ but was promptly
told that there is no place for any form of graffiti in Singapore and the Rail Corridor is
only for street art. From interviews, it became clear that the authorities saw graffiti as
unplanned, random scribbles (vandalism) whereas ‘illegal’ street art that was attractive
and thoughtful can be ‘made legal’. The Rail Corridor is not the first street art space in
Singapore, but is notable as the first site designated under a multi-agency collaboration
that is not explicitly youth-oriented.2
As the government agency in charge of the arts, NAC believes that street art can
enliven public spaces while bringing art to the layperson. In an email interview with
NAC, an officer explained:

Government agencies like URA and NAC believe that spaces can be enlivened
through street art, and that for the form to continue growing, more independent

2 Other spaces where street art has appeared include Somerset Skate Park, the walls of the youth-oriented mall
*Scape and the National Youth Council in Toa Payoh, a curated wall at The Substation, Bukit Batok skate park and a
wall at Labrador Park. Writers are also allowed free rein in buildings slated for demolition, for example Eminent
Plaza in September 2014 and The Mill in January 2015. Painting on other walls or public property without
permission of the owners constitutes vandalism and is punishable with a fine of up to S $2,000, a jail term of up to
three years and up to eight strokes of the cane.
 WRITING ON THE WALL 1053

spaces need to be open for street artists to practice their craft freely. Public
art brings art to the masses in a way that does not require them to make a
conscious decision to, say, step into a museum (email interview 3 October 2014,
emphasis added)

The term ‘freely’ is a curious one because when quizzed on whether artists could draw/
write anything on the walls, NAC replied that seed-funding by the state means that some
regulations must be observed in turn. Artists are not allowed to:

1 Advocate lifestyles seen as objectionable by the general public;

2 Denigrate a person, group or class of individuals on the basis of race or religion, or
create conflict in our multicultural society; and
3 Undermine the authority of the government and public institutions, or threaten
the nation’s security (email interview 3 October 2014; emphases added)

So, for example, LGBT rights are regarded by the state as advocating an objectionable
lifestyle and hence cannot be glorified in street art. Racist comments, ethnic slurs and
anti-government depictions are also prohibited. In interviews with the URA and NAC,
it was learnt that despite these regulations government officers seldom checked on the
Rail Corridor, leaving it to RSCLS to monitor what artists actually wrote and drew.
In recent years, graffiti-inspired pieces have also appeared on the walls
of privately owned buildings. Since the early 2010s, Kampong Glam has seen the
emergence of as many as a dozen works on building fronts and sides (see Figure 2).
In historic neighbourhoods like Chinatown and Kampong Glam, URA permission
must be sought before any work may be committed onto buildings particularly in the
historic core.3 In January 2012, the URA introduced colour guidelines for shophouse
buildings. Only pastel shades are permitted in order to preserve architectural
integrity; bold colours are only to be used for decorative details.4 For buildings with
non-standard colours and art works, retrogressive approval has to be sought. The
flouting of a rule will result in the owners of the building in question being fined S
$200,000 and/or receiving a jail term. Between January and August 2012, four warning
letters were issued to inform building owners that they had flouted the new colour
code. Fortunately, the URA approved the works along Haji Lane in Kampong Glam.
Not only was permission sought by the owners of its buildings, the URA explained
that ‘properly done’ street art can contribute to the ‘unique charm and character’ of
a place while befitting the creative community working there (Ler, 2012). The URA’s
Group Director (Conservation and Development Services) explained its approval in
the following way:

We see potential in this ground-up initiative and support the efforts to develop
a framework for the introduction of mural artworks in Haji Lane. What we have
learnt at Haji Lane is that mural art can be created in an inclusive, collaborative
manner to strike the right balance to respect the sensitivity of other
stakeholders and the larger community. When properly done, it can help shape
the character of an area without obscuring its architectural and historical value.
The murals in Haji Lane were commissioned by the stakeholders there as a form

3 Building owners may give permission to artists to paint on their outer walls without getting prior approval from the
state. This is not a problem in Singapore except where buildings are designated historic monuments or are located
in historic core areas such as those in Kampong Glam and Haji Lane. It is for this reason that some building owners
were taken to task over art works they had commissioned.
4 There are more than 7,000 conserved historic buildings in Singapore, including shophouses (split-level buildings
with retail on the ground floor and residences on upper levels) built between the 1820s and 1960s. Archival
photos show that these shophouses are often in pastel shades of blue, green and pink, forming the basis of the
URA’s colour guidelines (Lim, 2012).
 CHANG 1054

figure 2 Colourful street art along Haji Lane in Kampong Glam (photos by the
author, November 2016)
 WRITING ON THE WALL 1055

of artistic expression and have added unique charm and character to the place.
(Cited in Ler, 2012).

The state’s attitude to street art reflects a pragmatic mindset. As long as art is
aesthetically pleasing and serves a positive purpose, it is permissible. The Rail Corridor
was already a popular recreation site with people strolling, jogging and cycling along
the former railway line before the decision was taken to feature street art. Art is not
meant to transform the site but provide an added aesthetic dimension to its existing
function. Art thus serves as ‘a creative way to inject more vibrancy and community
involvement into the Rail Corridor and provide a unique experience for users of this
public space’ (URA, 2013). Likewise, in Kampong Glam wall art was approved because
of the charm and character it injects into the neighbourhood. The focus, therefore, is on
what street art can offer to a place and its visitors. However, a larger symbolic function
may also be in play. By offering artists opportunities to write on legal walls, it has also
been argued that a broader message is being broadcast. That is that ‘an-other visual
order is possible, and so an-other city is possible, and so an-other life is possible as well’
(Austin, 2010: 44). Such ‘an-other’ order/city/life is a more inclusive society where the
marginal and under-represented (including artists) are accorded space, respect and
room for expression.
We should thus ask what state-provisioned legal walls can offer artists and
their need for creative expression. Does street art signal a country that is more tolerant
of and receptive to alternative creativities and non-mainstream actors? With no
historical tradition of graffiti or protracted battle against illicit writing, legal walls
in Singapore offer a fresh opportunity for the state to re-invent what ‘writing on the
wall’ could be. This, however, does not appear to be the case with the regulations that
have been imposed (e.g. NAC guidelines which accompany seed-funding to artists)
and the artistic styles/colours that must be approved for historic buildings (e.g. URA
conditions). Just as legal walls appear to aid in unleashing artistic creativity, the
guidelines and conditions help to rein in ‘too-much-creativity’. Hence, while legal
walls provide more physical sites to write, they may not necessarily carve out more
psychological or emotional spaces for writers to freely express themselves without
repercussions.
The situation differs across Asian cities where legal walls may be organised by
co-operatives with minimal state involvement. For example, HKWalls (Hong Kong) is
organized by a non-profit group of the same name and the Sungai Klang Art Gallery
(Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia) is curated by a coalition of art groups. While HKWalls tries
to connect artists with local businesses and residents in the hope of showcasing street
art as an enhancer, rather than destroyer, of urban landscapes ([Link]
about), the Sungai Klang Art Gallery is an ever-expanding alfresco collection of works by
writers from five registered groups. Although the Sungai Klang walls are not endorsed
by the state, the authorities have not clamped down on writers who continue adding
to the walls today (Teh, 2010). Legal walls’ approaches thus differ across cities with
varying levels of state control and artistic agency. It is to the latter issue of artistic
freedom that we now turn our attention.

Artists’ views of legal walls: creativity constrained?

Singapore’s artists regard the legal walls programme with caution. While there
is general acknowledgement that the walls increase public awareness and artistic
practice, there is also scepticism regarding the government’s conflation of ‘legal art’ with
‘creativity’. Rather than unleashing their creativity, some writers fear that legalization
might actually constrain them, restricting them as to where and how they practise their
craft. However, as we shall see, artistic agency is never entirely dimmed and writers
are able to engage the state to ensure the survival of street art in the country. The
 CHANG 1056

questions asked in the preceding section on what legal walls can offer to artists and the
psychological space afforded to them will thus be explored.
A key concern among writers is the state’s conflation of legal walls with artistic
freedom, and the implications this has for artists. Many writers make a clear distinction
between the two and speak of legal walls as a potential threat to, rather than a vehicle
for, creativity. In their view, legal walls are concerned with visual aesthetics and the end-
product whereas ‘true’ street art emphasizes the process of artistic freedom and expression.
An artist expressed his worries about legalized writers becoming powerless designers:

I think it takes away the power [of artists], because, if it is sanctioned, you
become a designer. I don’t think there is any artistic purpose or vision involved.
You are basically doing something visual for another person’s specific goals
and not your ends. It is easy to turn from artist to designer…. Once you try to
designate a public space for it to be just beautified, there is no intervention at
all, and you fall right into the agenda of another person’s design of the space.
There is no disruption, there is no artist intervention (personal interview, 12
September 2014).

While the ‘true’ street artist expresses his or her own vision, the legal writer is at the
behest of the state (or in this case, the curator of the legal wall). What is lost is the
independence of will and decision making which is the hallmark of street art. The term
used by the interviewee above is ‘intervention’, suggesting that artistic agency and
creativity are under threat.
Because of the inherently illicit nature of street art, it is the method in which it is
carried out that matters most in the intervention process. Legal walls mock this ‘process’
even if the end ‘product’ might appear visually akin to illicit works. This ‘legitimation
of transgression’ means that street art is no longer independent work but a legal entity
serving purposes beyond itself––art that is ‘permitted to exist when it ceases to be itself’
(following Halsey and Pederick 2010, cited in Dovey et al., 2012: 39). For artists who
revel in the danger of illicit writing, the legalization of their pursuits might not therefore
translate into greater freedom and emotional well-being. Instead, the curation of their
work and confinement to preselected walls narrow their psychological space, prompting
one interviewee to compare the legal artist to a trained circus animal:

Street art [in Singapore] might share some application techniques, but it is a
finished product site specific [to] the location, so the artist’s message is much
more developed … Street art [in Singapore] is a legalized enrichment of a
public space, and the threat and hostility of graffiti is taken out. Graffiti in the
city is a spirit, like a tiger roaming the urban jungle, ready to strike, and most
street art murals are like circus tigers (personal interview, 10 September 2014)

The question of taming creativity was raised with RSCLS, which was responsible
for the Rail Corridor legal walls. According to its founding Director, even foreign writers
invited to Singapore have been cautious about being too ‘free’. While difficult to identify
the exact reason, he observed that the legalization process affects the writers’ creative
process which leads to self-censorship:

Any artist who comes here, even the most hard-core ones, they come and they
shut themselves down. They are very notorious overseas and paint really huge
stuff, but when they came to Sentosa, you can only see them pasting stickers.
Even those people that are that hard-core, they self-police themselves (personal
interview, 6 August 2014).
 WRITING ON THE WALL 1057

Looking at the Rail Corridor in 2014 and 2015 confirmed this observation.
Almost all of the works (by locals or foreigners) are colourful visuals, personal tributes
and signatures devoid of any obvious hostile message. Perhaps the most gory was a pair
of bloody lips with multiple cigarettes. As it turned out, the walls have become popular
photographic subjects for pedestrians and cyclists using the Corridor (see Figure 3).
In the words of an interviewee, legalization has led to the ‘watering down’ of artistic
independence resulting in ‘sanctioned street art [that] has no power at all’ (Personal
interview, 12 September 2014).

figure 3 Street art along the Rail Corridor is much sought after for its decorative
appeal (photo by the author, November 2016)

If legalization is viewed with such distaste, why then has Singapore’s foremost
street artist co-operated with the state in the Rail Corridor? This question was put
to RSCLS’ Director and two issues emerged. The first is that legal walls secure much
needed practice spaces for novice writers, thereby encouraging more young artists
to emerge in Singapore. Rather than creativity constrained, RSCLS regards the Rail
Corridor as an opportunity to safeguard street art even if it means a partial compromise
on its freedom. Just as the government is pragmatic, an equally pragmatic and strategic
stance is adopted in RSCLS’ relationship with the government in the hope of securing
more wall space in the future. In his words:

When they [young writers today] started, they already had some legal walls
to paint on. Whereas I personally had to fight for that, because I realize if I
don’t get some kind of actual spaces for people to paint, then the scene will
eventually die out. If you really look at street art in Singapore, the truly prevalent
form in the last 15 years is the graffiti style, whereas stickers came and went
 CHANG 1058

because people follow trends a lot. So they will still look at spray painting as an
alternative way of making art … For the past 10 years, it has always been the
same guys pushing the crowd. Where are the younger guys and even the girls?
(personal interview, 6 August 2014).

In a documentary on Channel News Asia, he made a similar point about feeling a

‘sense of responsibility to the grassroots’ and his desire to be a ‘role model’ for young
Singaporean artists (Channel News Asia, 2 March 2014). The Rail Corridor’s legal walls
are his canvas to do just that.
A second issue relates to ‘selling out’. RSCLS sees its engagement with the
state as a remarkable breakthrough, rather than an instance of giving in to the
government. In the Singapore context, where vandalism laws are aimed at fighting
anti-social behaviour, to secure legal walls under the state’s aegis is an incredible coup
that must be savoured. Where previously we saw that legal walls might constrain the
psychological space of some artists, the ability to work with a previously unrelenting
and punitive government and get funding for it must surely be emotionally satisfying
to them. According to the Director of RSCLS, it is much better to be funded than to
be criminalized:

There is a lot of criticism––‘oh you are cooperating with the government’. They
say street art needs to be political, it needs to be like this or like that. I see the
purpose of art as freedom of expression. The very act of me writing my name
on a 1x1 piece of wall in public, it is a political act because I am transgressing
something. When I do what I do in its natural state, I am bound by laws and I’m
bound to be criminalized. When people get up in arms about getting censored,
probably you won’t get funding. If we use art as a form of protest, the laws will
clamp down on us because the Vandalism Law was created to curb opposition
(personal interview, 6 August 2014).

We should not, of course, mythologize that all illegal art forms enjoy absolute
freedom. Graffiti and illicit street art are constrained in their own ways by subcultural
norms and hierarchical politics (Ellsworth-Jones, 2012). Indeed, all art forms are never
entirely free and the pragmatic street artist must work within legal considerations if
they are to work at all in Singapore.
Compared to RSLCS’s pragmatic assessment of state co-option, some artists
feel that legal walls portend an uncertain future. For them, the state’s designation of
legal walls leads to the proscribing of all other walls with the threat of criminal action.
Whereas, in the past, writers would paint on abandoned buildings and out-of-sight
surfaces, legalization suggests a stricter demarcation of permissible and prohibited
walls. For this reason, they fear an even harsher climate under legalization. This has led
to some writers working in other cities and in one case, even contemplating overseas
migration. Other artists continue to write in/on abandoned buildings and inaccessible
spaces but with growing concerns about being caught. For them, legal walls have
not improved their marginal status in society even though the public has become
better acquainted with their names and works. Other artists, conversely, participate in
government-approved programmes like the Rail Corridor realizing this is the only way
to do what they love without shame or cover. The diversity of views and artistic practice
clearly reveal the multiple subject positions that artists have towards state conceptions
of legal walls. The many ‘dispositions to behavior’ (Ley and Cybriwsky, 1974: 505)
suggest the impossibility of defining works as strictly either crime or art, and walls as
either legal or illegal (McAuliffe and Iveson, 2011). The complexity of issues demands
a more nuanced approach in future legal walls provision and the engagement of artists
to leave their marks on them.
 WRITING ON THE WALL 1059

Public sentiments on painted walls: superficial creativity?

Opinions from laypersons (tourists to and local residents of Singapore) provide
an insight into how legal walls are being received on the ground. Unstructured
interviews at Kampong Glam reveal a plethora of opinions that defy the dualisms of
good and bad art, legal versus illegal works. For most people, a painted wall is better
than a blank wall regardless of the circumstances under which the art was produced.
Lay opinions also reveal valid concerns about the superficiality and stasis of street art
in Singapore.
Dovey et al. (2012: 22) argue that graffiti takes on ‘instrumental roles’ when it is
engaged in ‘place branding, stimulating consumption or celebrating history’. Businesses
often incorporate art works into ‘advertising regime for [their] product’ or to ‘frame
(and informally advertise) the entrance to a gallery’ (Dovey et al., 2012: 28). The
commercialized nature of art is evident in Kampong Glam, an ethnic historic district
popular with tourists, shoppers and food enthusiasts. Concentrated mainly along its
fashion avenue of Haji Lane but also found throughout the historic neighbourhood,
colourful wall art has appeared on shophouse fronts as well as in side and back alleys.
Many have become popular photographic subjects for visitors and also for fashion
shoots and the Singapore Tourism Board’s marketing campaigns. In some cases, the art
work has also been chosen as a specific tie-in to the sponsoring business. For example,
a blue-hued graffiti ‘piece’ was painted on the shophouse façade of a bar called ‘Blu
Jaz’, while loud, vibrant colours front youth-oriented boutiques and lifestyle shops (see
Figure 4). The side walls of the Aliwal Arts Centre abound with elaborate works done by
the in-residence street arts group RSCLS. This corporatized design scheme is not lost on
the casual observer. When a local visitor was asked about the art at Haji Lane, he opined:

figure 4 Blue tones for Blu-Jaz Café in Haji Lane (photo by the author, November
2016)
 CHANG 1060

it feels a bit commercial. It feels like someone hired the artists to do the art just
to make their shops stand out. It changes the flavour of the art. I think street art
should be a form of expression that comes from the ground up rather than from
the top down (personal interview, 1 July 2014).

The lack of spontaneity is apparent. Akin to legalization, commercialization therefore

also affects the process and hence the ‘flavour’ of the art.
While commercialism is not in dispute, the place-belonging of art has been
questioned. To the casual visitor to Kampong Glam (a historic district dating to 1824),
the contemporary art works may appear out of place. A visitor from Italy, for example,
commented: ‘It’s very colourful, it gets me in the right mood, happy! [But] it does not fit
into Arab Street; it just doesn’t feel like it fits. It looks cool but it doesn’t fit in’. One can,
of course, retort that street art does not have to fit in, for doing so is further evidence of
artistic co-option. Unsettling the historic district with unexpected works can be read as
a form of artistic intervention and disruption. Be this as it may, it is notable that most of
the art at Kampong Glam has not changed over time. Whereas street art in other cities
changes frequently (across the span of days or even hours), the works in Singapore seem
to take on the imprimatur of official heritage. A repeat visitor from Australia observed:
‘I have been to a lot of countries, the street art changes every two weeks, especially in
Melbourne, where I’m from. By comparison, these stay on for a long time’ (personal
interview, 5 July 2014). In some cities, legal walls may even be protected with graffiti-
proof sealants to prevent illegal graffiti over them. When this happens, street works
take on the ‘aegis of urban heritage’, a precious commodity that is worth preserving
(McAuliffe and Iveson, 2011: 139). Static or permanent works run contrary to the spirit
of street art where works are always ephemeral and fleeting, even for those that are
considered beautiful or by reputed artists (see Ellsworth-Jones, 2012: chapter 3).5
The unchanging nature of street art resonates with earlier critiques on the
decorative and prescriptive nature of works in Singapore. A Singaporean visitor to
Kampong Glam bemoaned the absence of truly spontaneous art in the country when he
compared ‘true’ street art to legal works. While the former is ‘spontaneously delivered
by the person who made it’, the latter in his opinion comes ‘with government sanctions
[and] is no longer anti-establishment or subversive because it is very much part of
mainstream culture’ (personal interview, 25 September 2014). While this is not to say
that any state-sanctioned work is automatically mainstream, it is to say that planning
by curators and authorities will lead to works that the layperson perceives to be
compromised. In a study of two Melbourne neighbourhoods (Fitzroy and Brunswick),
it was shown that the public has highly varied reactions towards legal art walls. While
some long-time residents view street art as a form of ‘intrusion’, newer residents ‘see it
as an inherent part of the character and even part of what attracted them there’ (Dovey
et al., 2012: 34). The diversity of works and the equally diverse public responses to them
reflect a ‘certain amount of disorder’ in the neighbourhood (Dovey et al., 2012: 34), a
positive thing if the art zone and city wish to be projected as vibrant and energetic.
For many Asian cities including Singapore, there is no historical tradition of
graffiti and war against graffiti. Transplanting legal walls into the environment injects
‘a text with an absent or undefined context’ (Pan, 2014: 144), a possible reason why some
people regard them as novelties in an otherwise tightly controlled and predictable urban
environment. That contemporary art may be found in Kampong Glam and amidst nature
at the Rail Corridor creates an aesthetic mix which makes Singapore unique and in tune
with the times. This is the opinion of both visitors to and residents of the country:

5 Although the works might be ephemeral, interviews with graffiti writers and artists reveal that many desire their
works to persist, and express anger towards those who want to write over their creations (Ellsworth-Jones, 2012).
I thank a reviewer for pointing this out.
 WRITING ON THE WALL 1061

It’s the mix that makes it very special. The old buildings are good, but with the
mix [of art], even more special. It doesn’t matter if it’s not Singaporean; there’s
enough of Singapore culture elsewhere (visitor from Switzerland, 5 June 2014).

In one way, it [art] removes the authenticity of the place, but in another way it
shows how modern [the place] is now. I think every district evolves with time.
So I think it is a way to say that Haji Lane has evolved into something more hip
(local resident, 16 June 2014).

Members of the public constitute a cross-section of people who come across art
in their daily routines. While their views may not be schooled in the theories of graffiti
and art politics, their opinions betray societal receptivity towards street works. While
there is a general appreciation for public art, the issue is not so much a matter of quantity
(how much) as one of quality (what type of art). That street art exists at all is already an
achievement in a city-state steeped in regulatory planning. The current situation of curated
art (at the Rail Corridor) and static ‘mural-like’ forms (in Kampong Glam) exemplify a
city still feeling its way around the politics of street art. Legal walls have introduced art
to the lay person, offering elements of novelty in both historic settings and the natural
environment. Looking ahead, the goal is not necessarily to have more art in more places, but
to foster a more sensitive approach in which artists are able to engage their publics through
dialogue and mutual understanding. If members of the public are a part of the ‘street’, it is
they who can serve as both stimulus and context for the creation of thoughtful street art.
The multi-varied opinions captured here offer a glimpse of what the public sounds like.

Conclusion
In early 2014, Samantha Lo completed her community service sentence. This
is what she had to say: ‘I helped out at some old folks homes, did some design work, a
community mural––all of which I actually enjoyed’. On how she felt during this time, she
was less positive: ‘I wasn’t myself the whole time and I was trying to keep a strong front.
I had lost that anonymity, and felt restricted in what I did and how I appeared outside––I
couldn’t even paste a sticker like last time’ (cited in Martin, 2015). Lo’s personal change
echoes larger changes taking place in Singapore and urban planning in general. This
article has examined some of these changes and offers four instructive lessons relating
to creativity, effects of legal walls, and art in general.
The first lesson concerns the different dimensions of creativity invoked through
legal walls. In Singapore, the state recognizes street art and regulates it at a distance
in terms of artistic content and wall locations. As a result, a simultaneous unleashing
and leashing of creativity has taken place. Artists and art groups have responded to
this mercurial situation with some suspicion but also strategic intent. Rather than a
simple case of creativity constrained, artists and art groups work with the government
by strategizing opportunities in order to continue practising. Public response has been
positive, although general acknowledgement has been tinged with awareness of the
commercialized and static nature of the art. If a country’s street art is reflective of its
most public culture (MITA, 2000), it is important that cities seriously consider what its
art and art policies say about itself, its community and its hopes for the future. How a
city and its people relate to public art reflects the value of creativity, individuality and
artistic freedom in that society.
Secondly, there can be no simple answer on what legal walls can or should do
for artists. While some scholars question the efficacy of legal programmes as a form of
graffiti deterrence (e.g. Craw et al., 2006; Young, 2010; Ellsworth-Jones, 2012), others
applaud it as a symbol of social and cultural inclusiveness (e.g. Lombard, 2013). Legal
walls can never entirely satisfy some people’s need to rebel as there will always be a
vocal anarchist spirit among artists especially in addressing issues of race and class.
 CHANG 1062

At the same time, we cannot deny what studies, including this one, have shown: that
some artists can and do leverage legal programmes to pursue their passion and provide a
future for other artists while making a positive change in their personal life (Ellsworth-
Jones, 2012). A contextual or situational approach (Young, 2014) is thus needed when
implementing legal walls, in order to understand specific local concerns that walls are
supposed to address, the artists who are being engaged and how members of the public
may be involved in the creation process.
Apart from its effects on people (artists), a third lesson relates to the effects of
legal walls on place (city). While some have explored public art’s contribution to urban
aesthetics and history (e.g. Chang, 2008), a larger question concerns whether art has the
power to change the meaning, identity and even function of a place. More than just an
aesthetic or symbolic tool, can art disrupt existing urban orders and offer the possibility
for people to see and identify with places in a totally different light (Austin, 2010)? The
role of the state in defining the meaning of place through art/monuments is well known
(Till, 1999); what is debatable is whether community works and grassroots projects,
including non-state-approved art, have the power to transform places and people’s
attachment to them. At the Rail Corridor and Kampong Glam, the public appreciates
art for its added appeal but nobody spoke about the radical transformation of place as
a result of artistic intervention. Whether what is true in Singapore is also the case for
other cities is a point worth researching.
A final lesson concerns the ever-changing nature of art and the need for flexibility
in planning. With the co-option of graffiti and street art today, the very circumstances in
which they are being produced are vastly different from the past. Some observers have
begun speaking about ‘post-’ and ‘neo-graffiti’ as new art forms and artistic practices
(Dickens, 2008; Valjakka, 2014). Indeed, the ‘metamorphosis’ of graffiti from illicit
object to street art and also museum pieces and urban heritage today (Creswell, 1996:
51) means that city planners cannot blindly follow what other places have done under
very different historical and cultural trajectories. With ‘post-graffiti’ arising in graffiti-
mature cities like New York and Melbourne, pre-graffiti cities like Singapore must devise
their own formulas for curating artistic content and engagements in a way suited to their
artists, community and local needs. This is a challenge not just for government planners
and cultural authorities, but also for artists, urban advocates and academicians if we
are to hope to live and work in cities that are at once inclusive, democratic and creative.

T.C. Chang, Department of Geography, National University of Singapore, 1 Arts Link,

Singapore 117570, geoctc@[Link]

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