Process: a conversation

This following conversation took place at the preview reception night of Process on 21 September, 2026.

Tina: Why have you decided to present the oil painting swatches instead of any completed works for your first solo exhibition?

Victor: That’s a good question, and I think there are multiple moving parts to it, so I might just start out by giving a bit more context to the Studio before moving on to the actual rationale behind the exhibition (Process). I started Studio Thu back in October 2025, so just coming up to the one-year mark – which is insane. Since then, I have mainly been engaging in practical studies. The purpose of the studies is really for me to better rediscover and refine my overall artistic voice. I haven’t done something like this (art-making) in some time, and the last time I operated at this sort of capacity (referring to the exhibition) was probably back in Year 12, which was about 7 years ago. The studies really allow me to further explore my overall likes and dislikes and they are a great way for me to reengage with my creativity. The subject matter of my studies is typically a lot more figurative than the pieces you see here today in the exhibition. I mainly look at sculptures and statues as my main points of reference, as I like how they interact with space and light, as well as the overall three-dimensionality… I will typically take these references and reinterpret them through my own creative lens… Much of my studio life has mainly revolved around the studies.

But eventually, I started feeling burnt out, and life in the Studio just started to become somewhat robotic and overly procedural. I felt like the intention behind my studies was starting to shift away from exploration and more towards the idea of producing more works, better works within shorter windows of time. I felt a little voice in my head imposing strict deadlines and timelines on my art-making. This is probably a consequence of my life outside the Studio. I do work a day job as a consultant, and my approach to most things tends to be quite structured and methodical. I do find that this rigidity bleeds into my studio life.

And then one day, I started cleaning up the Studio as I was planning to move, and I kind of just took a step back and observed the studies that I had completed thus far. I, of course, also noticed the swatches, as they are typically scattered all around the Studio for drying. The swatches were really not something that I particularly paid attention to. They are just a natural part of my art-making process. I will typically have them (the tissues) in front of me whilst I am completing a study so I can clean my bruses or test different colours. Even though the swatches are much more fragmented and far more abstract than what I am typically used to, I felt that they captured that essence of experimentation that was missing within my completed studies. So, I wanted to explore that concept further. The idea of focusing on the process as the main subject matter, diverting attention away from the final results whatever it may be… which brings us to today.

Tina: Could you not argue that your finished paintings are also part of your process? Why have you deliberately decided to leave them out of the exhibition?  

Victor: Yeah, I remember we had this conversation when we started planning the exhibition. I remember your shock when I said, ‘Tina, I don’t want to feature the completed paintings in the exhibition’. I did consider having them (the finished paintings) as part of the exhibition, but I felt that the inclusion of the finished studies would cheapen the overall messaging behind the exhibition. It’s almost like saying, yes this (the pieces within the exhibition) may look abstract and a bit arbitrary, but don’t worry, they are all connected to a more resolved, more immediately comprehensible end product. The purpose of this exhibition is to purely focus on the process. And I just felt that the swatches were a much more honest and candid representation of my journey as an artist thus far. The studies are very much a part of that journey, but I liked the absence of pretence and hesitation within the swatches.   

Tina: Do you think AI will ever replace the role of an Artist in society?

Victor: Well, the short answer is no. For me, I think it really comes back to the function of art within society. When I say art, I am not just referring to the visual arts but also the performative arts, the literary arts - the Arts. I think beyond commercial value, commercial interest, and social cachet, I have always thought of the Arts as a tool for reflection. I think the Arts allow us to tap into deeper parts of ourselves that we might potentially be locking away, hiding, or suppressing; perhaps even allowing us to achieve some sort of catharsis. That level of emotional connection and intimacy is something that cannot be easily replicated by AI. AI can certainly do a good job at replicating certain visual motifs, specific artists, and art movements. But I think it lacks the emotional and intellectual integrity to forge meaningful connections. AI will always be limited to a specific dataset and cannot imagine a reality or fathom concepts beyond set parameters. I think people experience things in less of a binary way and more in terms of grey areas. At least this is the case for me. I would argue that we experience things in such a personal and individual way that it can never truly be consolidated into a single data set. I mean, just look at us, Tina; we have lived all over the world, and I know that those experiences have shaped a worldview that is extremely specific and personal to me. So I think Artists will always have a place in society simply because AI lacks the necessary context and nuance to truly replicate the connection between an artist, the art, and the viewer.   

Victor: Do you think AI will ever replace the role of a Curator in society?  

Tina: The short answer is no. AI is capable of replicating many things. Given enough data, it can mimic the tone and style of a curator’s writing. But as Victor pointed out, it lacks the emotional depth and lived experience that shape an authentic human perspective.

AI might learn to write like me, but it cannot reproduce the personal journey behind my work—my experience of living across three continents, for example, and the ways that experience has shaped how I understand art, identity, and culture. Instead, AI often reduces complex human experiences to generalised patterns.

A curator is not static. We live, change, and evolve alongside the world around us, and those transformations continually reshape how we interpret and present art. AI, by contrast, is trained on existing human knowledge and the materials we produce. We remain its source.

Human emotion and cultural nuance cannot be fully quantified or reduced to datasets. Curation depends not only on information, but also on empathy, intuition, relationships, and lived experiences. AI may become a valuable tool for curators, but it cannot replace the humanity at the heart of the role.

Victor: Why did you decide to bring together my practice with Yoma’s? We deal with such different materials and subject matter; how did you manage to see a through line?

Tina: I think for me it all began with questions I started to ask myself: where does the value of an artwork actually reside? Is it only in the finished object, or can we also find value in the experimentation, transformation and experience that happens along the way?

Evidently, Victor and Yoma work in very different mediums, but both of their practices involve something being in a state of becoming. Victor's swatches are fragments from a much longer process of studying, testing, and responding to the human form. Yoma's edible work, by contrast, is inherently temporary and participatory: it exists for a moment and then changes or disappears. In both cases, the idea of a permanent final object is already being challenged.

Bringing these two artists together makes the role of process more visible precisely because they approach it from almost opposite directions. Victor gives us access to what would usually remain hidden—the tests, decisions, and experiments that precede a resolved painting. Yoma’s work moves the other way: it is created to be experienced and ultimately consumed. This invites us to consider what remains after an audience encounters an artwork—or, in this case, quite literally consumes it.

That distinction was important to me. I wasn’t looking for two artists whose work appeared similar or who were doing the same thing. I was interested in two practices that could enter into conversation by approaching the same underlying question from very different directions.