It usually takes a fresh pair of eyes to bring a new perspective to a well-worn situation – that is what Ms Tamae Iwasaki and Mr Eitaro Ogawa set out to do when they started documenting Housing Development Board (HDB) flats across Singapore in 2013 with Tomohisa Miyauchi. I visit them in their Bukit Panjang flat just half over half a year after their book HDB: Homes of Singapore was published, wanting to turn the lens on the duo this time.
The Japanese couple, who have lived in Singapore for 17 years, were once daunted by the prospect of moving into an HDB apartment, which looked “sterile and uniform.” Knowing that a majority of the Singaporean population (about 80%) inhabited these massive structures was unfathomable to them.
“It looked like one of those dystopian sci-fi movies,” Eitaro laughs.
In 2008, the family had to move out of their semi-detached house in the Seletar Airbase area due to development (now rebranded as the Seletar Aerospace Park) and were searching for a new place, but were incredibly reluctant to move into an HDB flat due to their impression of such housing.
It was only when their newly-married Singaporean friend invited them to his new place that the couple realised they could renovate HDB apartments to their taste.
“The moment we knew we could renovate our own flat, the whole situation changed. It became a very exciting opportunity – we can do as we want. We never imagined that!” Tamae recalls with exuberance, in contrast to the more soft-spoken Eitaro.
This realisation also pointed to the huge gulf between the excitement they felt, and the attitudes they had borne towards HDBs – eventually, this led to a desire to create a book that documented the interiors of HDB flats. “We wanted people to think of their HDB flat as something special,” says Tamae.
Could their experiences with Japanese public housing have shaped their impressions of Singapore’s HDB flats?
Tamae and Eitaro explain that while Japan’s public housing gives a much wearier impression – the flats are smaller, with little choice in appearance and arrangement, and are allocated to residents by the government – their since-remediated aversion to HDBs had been borne mainly out of the sheer visual magnitude and uniformity of the blocks.
Perhaps, though, they had not thought to consider renovating an HDB in Singapore as it is not a norm in Japan. The husband and wife go back and forth, arguing about why this is the case: Tamae suggests that the cost of renovation in Japan is too high, that people do not set aside the five-figure sums needed as homeowners-to-be in Singapore do. Eitaro insists that the Japanese don’t renovate because of the inconvenience created.
Eventually, they compromise, as Eitaro summarises, “There is no budget because nobody has the intention to do it. Nobody has the intention to do it because in the apartment, hacking the walls will be crazily noisy. In Singapore, you just put up a paper notice, and everybody accepts that it will be noisy for a few months.”
“There is that kind of common understanding and acceptance in Singapore.”
Through their project, the impersonality of public housing has been reshaped into a vibrant representation of “Singaporean culture.” Eitaro explains, as he leafs through pages of their photo-book, “This project is something that represents our impression of HDB flats, and variety of things we couldn’t see. [It] fulfils our need to show that the inside of these houses are very unique, and everyone is like an artist, creating their own forms, of culture, creativity.”
“Everything starts from home. I very much believe that culture is not about things we have to go out to see, but things that happen in the home, and that’s the very core of who we are. Where we don’t pretend who we are and what we like.”
The couple had teamed up with Mr Tomohisa Miyauchi (or “Tomo”), a senior lecturer at the National University of Singapore’s (NUS) Department of Architecture, and the Singapore representative for Architecture and Urbanism (a+u), one of Japan’s leading architecture magazines.
Their meeting was fortuitous – what Eitaro describes as a “perfect match.” Tamae elaborates, “He had just arrived in Singapore, and for him, this was the perfect project to get to know Singapore. He didn’t have any contacts or networks, but we did. We didn’t know how to publish a book, but he did.”
According to Tamae, the ensuing documentation of 118 HDB homes was a very organic process.
They didn’t discuss how many flats they would shoot, how long they would stay at each place, and so on. Instead, she would arrange two to three visits each week for the next three years.
Many of the residents were surprised at their homes being the subject of photographic documentation at first, but once they warmed up to the idea, were enthusiastic about showing off their homes. While Tomo usually started taking photographs of the homes immediately upon entering, Tamae and Eitaro would sit with their hosts and ask questions. They also asked their homeowners if there were any special features about the house they wanted to talk about.
Tamae shares, “I think the really nice part is that we got to sit down and talk to them, to get to know them, their character, which was instrumental to writing the description of the home.”
The couple also brought HDB: Homes of Singapore back to Japan, where according to them, the image of Singapore revolves predominantly around landmarks such as the Merlion, Marina Bay Sands, Sentosa, and other touristy cliches.
“Unless you are friends with people in Singapore, you cannot step and look into HDBs. So this book really shows [them], “Singapore is like this, you know,” Eitaro says. He leans back in his chair and chuckles cheekily, “I think, simply looking at somebody’s life like that is very fun. Like sneaking into somebody’s room.”
Eitaro adds that he feels more welcomed in Singapore due to the diversity that exists in our society. Tamae interjects, “There is no template on how to be a person here. In Japan, if you are an artist, you hang out with artists all your life. But in Singapore, we meet lawyers and doctors, and there’s that surprise in meeting people – I really enjoy meeting someone I’ve never met before.”
While I argue that Singaporean society can be quite stratified, Eitaro muses that being in art has made it a lot easier to access different types of people. “We realise doing art attracts people from many different types of professions. There are bankers, lawyers, accountants, academics, students, teachers – all people like to connect through art. It is a universal language that all sorts of people can enjoy.”
Their belief that art and culture should be removed from its pedestal (as with their HDB project) is aptly represented by their latest endeavour, Pameran Poskad, a participatory project open to anyone who wants to draw, make paintings, sculptures, or any other object that fits into a postcard-sized plastic slip.
The items will be put up for sale at the exhibition, and the profits go to the charity and “artist.” The duo intend for members of the public who don’t usually “make art” to participate as creators, collectors, and appreciators.
To end off the afternoon, I ask Tamae and Eitaro if there are other aspects of Singapore’s culture that projects similar to HDB: Homes of Singapore could uncover, Eitaro suggests that a closer look is taken at hawker centres. “[They are] already commonly done, but can be done better. Like documenting the recipes, the people who are working there, or it could be done from the customer’s point of view. Maybe if they talk about the shop [design], it also speaks about the shopkeepers.”
He also points to Singlish, which should be better documented. “In Japan, we don’t talk about “correct” Japanese. We have dialects. Tokyo people think their accent is standard, and other areas have their own intonations, but we don’t see accents as wrong. Each has charm – when we use the dialects, we can express ourselves better. Singlish can do things that standard English can’t. Like can, can, can! Not the same as “It’s possible.””
