Lam Pin Foo

I have always enjoyed gazing at traditional Chinese landscape paintings as their tranquil impact soothes my mind and body, especially after a hectic work day. They would bring me into a seemingly surreal world of majestic mountain peaks shrouded in cloud or mist, surrounded by lush greenery, gently flowing streams and rustic bridges, with occasional contemplative scholars in their isolated thatched huts savouring the beauty of mother nature or a lonely but content fisherman patiently fishing in a placid lake without any worldly cares. In my becalmed state of mind, I would spontaneously recall the perfect summation of the essence and charm of the Chinese landscape painting. There is poetry in the painting and painting in the poetry, to quote the memorable words of the celebrated Song Dynasty poet So Dongpo.

I first became interested in collecting Chinese brush paintings in the 1980s through the infectious influence of a small group of friends who were established collectors of well-known works by Mainland Chinese artists. Having already earlier been initiated into the palpable excitement of purchasing other art works, it was not difficult for my wife and I to be appreciative of Chinese paintings. These friends invited us to their homes to meet other collectors in their art appreciation evenings , which they would take turns to host. Under their tutelage, I began to learn about the various schools of Chinese paintings, with differing styles, characteristics and approaches in interpreting the salient points of Chinese paintings, be it on landscapes, flower and birds, human figures, and other subject matters. When our interest reached a level when we were ready to acquire our first pieces, these thoughtful friends would introduce us to a couple of reputable art dealers in town in order to ensure that we would be off to a smooth and good start in our new interest.

At that time, more Singaporeans were smitten by the collecting bug than ever before, and especially popular were the collecting of Chinese paintings. The local art galleries were well-stocked with works by Mainland artists of considerable repute and their prices, in comparison with their market value today, were affordable to many Singaporean professionals, business executives and successful businessmen and women. For example, a thousand dollars or two could easily buy you works of China’s leading contemporary artists. Among the keenest were the English-educated elites, some of whom could not even read or write Chinese. Despite such obvious handicap, several of our personal friends had, over the years, built up creditable collections through knowledge learned from art publications in English, with the initial help of fellow collectors, dealers and, principally, through their own artistic tastes and judgments.

I have always held the view that the monetary value of a nation’s art works, apart from their artistic merits, is also influenced by domestic and international demand as well as by its economic and political clout on the world scene. Japan is a very good example. Following its defeat in WWII in 1945, its art pieces could be had cheaply as the country was devastated and impoverished. Consequently, many of their best specimen were eagerly sought overseas and left its shores. Prices for Japanese art pieces began to escalate relentlessly when Japan became rich from the ’70s onwards due to increasing demand from their own individual and corporate collectors, in addition to international competition for the most desirable works. With the rapid rise of China as an economic and political power since the mid 1990s, the value of Chinese works of art too have risen by leaps and bounds for the same reasons as the Japanese case. Nowadays, well-off Chinese collectors would especially seek out the rarest of their country’s art works at international auctions by paying high prices, often out of patriotic sentiments, especially for articles that were removed form China unfairly by foreigners in the distant past, in order to ensure that these would remain where they really belong. These works, including Chinese paintings, would now fetch millions of US dollars a piece. However, compared with the most expensive Western oil paintings, their prices are still a long way below them. So, art experts confidently predict that the works of renowned Chinese artists will continue to move forward until the gap between them and the Western paintings has been substantially narrowed. This, inevitably, must happen if China continues its current economic expansion at a high rate.

Be that as it may, one daunting obstacle confronting collectors of Chinese paintings is that the faking of works of leading artists, both past and living, is widespread as it is very lucrative. In a seemingly perverse way, that is what makes buying them so exciting and challenging. Not infrequently, it is a battle of wits and knowledge between the collector and the unethical dealer, the outcome of which would invariably favour the latter if the collector is inexperienced and naive. Occasionally, some fakes are so skillfully created that they could even fool almost anyone, including the experts in the field. There have been many cases of dispute between reputable auction houses and the buyers and most have been settled between the parties privately without litigation. However, a celebrated case regarding a significant work by artist Zhang Daqian, often dubbed the “Chinese Picasso”, ended up in the Chinese Supreme Court and the parties involved was a leading Chinese auction house and a prominent Chinese corporation seeking refund of the massive price they paid on the ground that the painting was a fake. Unfortunately, I am unable to obtain its decision thereon as the case might have been ultimately settled out of court and the terms of settlement were not made public.

Almost all contemporary fake Chinese paintings emanate from Hong Kong, Macao and, increasingly since the ’90s, from the Mainland China itself. The rise in fakes of famous Chinese painters is due mainly to the current Chinese and worldwide demand for fine Chinese paintings. This has led to very substantial increases in their market values as such works, especially those of artists no longer living, are finite and their demand would have already outstripped their availability in the market place. To make the supply situation more acute, many of the works by China’s most notable painters are now in foreign museums and firmly held by them. Already, Chinese fine art dealers and auction houses have been scouring Southeast Asia, including Singapore, as well as other countries with sizable collectors of Chinese paintings with a view to persuading them to re-sell their pieces to them at attractive prices or to induce them to auction these in China and cash in on their profits. I know as a fact that quite a few Singaporean collectors had found it worthwhile to take handsome profits from their past purchases.

If some fakes are of high quality, why won’t the fakers proclaim their creative talents openly by proudly selling their original works instead? In my view, the collectors are partly to blame because most would go for big names only, often for prestige or investment purposes. Sadly, when tastes in collecting are invariably dictated by snobbery or monetary considerations, a painting’s intrinsic quality tends to become grossly distorted so that one might fetch a king’s ransom in the market place, while another by an unknown but promising artist could not even secure a buyer at low prices. Consequently, some talented but frustrated artists would be compelled to live in the shadows of the masters by passing off their works in order to survive economically in this harshly competitive profession.

In the ’80s Singapore was a rich “fishing ground” for Hong Kong’s fly-by-night art peddlers who would hold regular art exhibitions cum sales here with a seemingly impressive array of works attributed to luminary Chinese artists including Qi Baishi, Zhang Daqian, Huang Binhong, Fu Baoshi, Wang Yi-Ting, Zheng Shifa, to name just a few, at prices that were very much lower than their going rates for the genuine pieces at the reputable art galleries here and elsewhere. Virtually all were outright fakes of these venerable art masters, which a discerning collector would be able to tell without any difficulties. Also, the low price tags for these inferior works should have been an obvious tell-tale sign to an average collector with some knowledge of the Chinese art market. The cheap prices were the bait set by these unscrupulous art vendors who exploited the inexperienced collectors’ vanity and weakness to secure bargains at bargain basement prices and then boast about their achievements to others. Many succumbed to the bait, hook, line and sinker. Indeed, the adage: “A little learning is dangerous” and the commercial caveat: “Buyer beware!” are timely reminders for those who intend to take up this esoteric pursuit that knowledge and judgment in this field cannot be built up quickly, except through learning and experience.

When some of these hapless victims subsequently found out that they had been taken for a ride by these “black sheep” art merchants, they tried to locate them in Hong Kong to seek refunds, but were shocked to find out that their respectable business addresses printed on their business cards were fictitious ones and they could not be traced. At the other end of this episode, other unsuspecting victims might still be basking in the glory of their “exceptional finds” and are elated over their good fortunes and sound artistic judgments!

Are there no safeguards or legal protections against such blatantly dishonest art dealers to allow them to get away with their misdeeds with impunity? The best safeguard, in my view, is to buy art works from only reputable dealers. You will find them in Singapore and elsewhere too. This is because reputations take a long time to establish, and no reliable dealers would be foolish enough to place their hard-earned reputation in jeopardy by betraying the customer’s trust and goodwill with one dishonest act of selling a fake work as a genuine article. Also, it is always prudent to insist on a certificate of authenticity of the piece purchased as a further safeguard. As to legal protections, this would differ from country to country. As far as I know, in Singapore, one can sue a fraudulent dealer for misrepresentations under the Sale of Goods Act. However, do be forewarned that litigation is a costly, traumatic and long drawn our affair and the outcome is not always predictable. It should only be resorted to when other modes of resolving the matter have been exhausted.

Luckily, we were spared such painful learning experiences because we were ever mindful of the dangers of buying Chinese paintings from unproven sources and had heeded the sound advice from our more experienced collector friends. Above all, we must thank the late Mr Sze, Manager of the Chung Hwa Art Gallery, who had taught us the art of buying good Chinese paintings, based on his expertise and experiences in this field. He was one of the most knowledgeable and respected art dealers in Singapore and was always most helpful to collectors. He passed away many years ago. I can still recall vividly and fondly the many a most pleasant Saturday afternoon spent at his gallery in South Bridge Road admiring his impressive array of paintings of both renowned and up-and-coming Chinese artists, which he personally sourced from China, and listening to his masterful commentary on their merits and also certain weak points, and therefore the price disparity, in order to guide us in our selections to suit our budgets. He never rushed us to make up our minds and would instead advise us to take home the pieces that we liked to see if we could live with them over time before making up our minds whether or not to purchase them.

Over the years, we had bought a number of paintings from Mr Sze and they included works by Lu Yanshao, Li Kuzhan, Chen Dayu, Tang Yun, Song Yinke, Wang Xuetao, Zheng Shifa and Xuxi, among others. Through his introduction, we also acquired a couple of paintings by Huang Zhou and Ya Ming form Zhi Kuzha Gallery of Hong Kong. Mr Sze and the proprietor of this shop were good friends and had jointly held art exhibitions in Singapore and Hong Kong. In our first trip to China during the “80s, I sought Mr Sze’s guidance on buying paintings there. He very kindly and unselfishly advised me that the most reliable shop to buy them would be the 300-year old Rong Baozhai, the most famous and venerable art dealers in Beijing, and asked me to mention his name to a Mr Zhang there. We went to this famed art shop and was given every assistance by Mr Zhang, who most professionally and patiently showed us more than a dozen of paintings by some of China’s leading artists in a private room usually reserved for important customers because of his firm friendship with Mr Sze. With his help and recommendations, I purchased two paintings that both my wife and I liked very much, one by Zhu Qizhan and the other by Lu Yanshao, with a special discount.

I met one of China’s top artists, Guan Shanyue, a leading light of the Linnan School of painting, through the then Director of Singapore’s National Museum, Mr Lee Wai Kok, when he was invited to stage a solo exhibition at his museum. At my invitation, Mr Guan and his wife, accompanied by Mr Lee, came to our house for dinner. I took the opportunity to invite several of my fellow collector friends, most of whom own Guan’s paintings and that of other Lingnan School artists, to meet Mr Guan and to show him their pieces. Mr Guan was thrilled to see a rare painting by his teacher, Gao Chienfu, a founder of Lingnan style of painting, and spontaneously suggested that he and my friend pose for a picture together, with the masterpiece between them. However, his jovial mood suddenly turned sombre when a work of his, his special gift to a very good friend overseas, came into the collection of one of my other guests. The master artist was most disappointed that his friend would part with it for money as the painting was sentimental to him.

While in Singapore, Mr Guan was asked by many Singaporean collectors to authenticate his his own works in their collections, some of which turned out to be fakes. In this delicate situation, he would be diplomatic but witty at the same time to make light of their oversights. “I have painted numerous paintings over the decades, but I don’t seem to remember having done this particular one. In any case, this artist can probably do a better job than I can!”, joked the famed artist.

Collecting Chinese paintings, and other art works, have made life more pleasant and meaningful for my wife and I and they will continue to give us endless hours of enjoyment. Also, they certainly look more attractive than stock and share certificates!

Lam Pin Foo
1.7.08

My interest in art began only after my marriage in the early 1960s, through the gentle influence of my wife who has always shown a discerning taste in both visual and performing arts, as well as in the beautiful creations of mother nature. This has had a beneficial impact on me and gradually increased my interest in the arts.

In school, art was my weakest subject, and I dreaded and hated it because of my lack of visible progress compared with many of my classmates. I secretly admired and envied those who with a few strokes of the pencil or brush could comfortably compose an impressive image or object and I had often wishfully hoped that their artistic skills could somehow rub off on me! Ironically, more than five decades later, during which time my crop of thick and black hair has long turned grey and thin, art appreciation is now an essential part of my life, without which it would certainly be robbed of its richness. If any of my old school chums should chance to read this article I dare say that they would be tickled pink, because the very thought of my becoming a collector of paintings must seem to them as remote a possibility as the launching of a ship without a bottom.

My path to art collecting started only after we had moved into our own new house in the late ’60s. With our basic needs taken care of, we believed that a couple of good quality paintings would certainly enhance the ambiance of our new home, besides giving us endless enjoyment. We visited art galleries, attended art exhibitions and read art books in order to have a better grasp of the local art scene. Through the introductions of our arty friends, we also visited several artists’ studios in order to gain a first-hand insight into their creative genius.

My wife and I agreed that, with our limited financial resources, we should, as a start, concentrate wholly on the works of local artists on grounds that they were more affordable compared with foreign artists and more “intimate” to us. Also, they would need all the support they could get in order to stay active and to scale new heights. With my earlier impetuous experiences and lack of sound artistic judgment when making my first purchases of antique Chinese ceramics still fresh in our minds, we were in no hurry to strike our first acquisitions of paintings until the pieces that we both really liked came along so that we would not regret buying them later.

In the ’60s and part of the ’70s, Singapore’s art scene was still in its early stages of development as not many Singaporeans could either afford or had the inclinations to spend their disposable income on purchasing paintings or other art works which most would consider luxuries they could well do without. The Government was then more concerned with the country’s economic survival and job creation after achieving full independence under very difficult circumstances, and supporting the arts meaningfully was, understandably, not on its priority list. Against this background, it was not easy, to put it very mildly, for full-time or active artists to make a decent living in pursuit of their chosen profession. To me, an active artist is one who paints regularly, whose works are on sale at galleries and who participates in art exhibitions at least once a year. It is therefore not surprising that there were only a very small number of full-time or active artists here during these two decades. Even the most well-known and accomplished of them all had to have a full-time job, mostly as art teachers, and carried out their painting activities, including getting their works ready for an art exhibition, outside the normal work hours. Despite earning a modest income, they would not give up the life of an artist for other more lucrative jobs because of their passion for the art.

Fortunately for these core practising artists and the development of art in Singapore, there was a small band of individual art lovers and corporate art supporters who would regularly purchase their works in order to help them stay afloat and to forge ahead. They included successful entrepreneurs, like Loke Wan Tho, Tan Tsze Chor and Yeo Khee Lin, professional people, business executives and academics, large corporations, including banks, oil companies and multinational firms, as well as the expatriate and diplomatic communities. Without their continuing patronage, the growth of the Singapore art would have been seriously curtailed. Art is indeed a calling that many creative young men and women may believe it to be a fascinating and intellectually satisfying career as it would free them from the mundane office routines. In reality, however, it is very demanding and only the most dedicated and talented among them can succeed with resultant financial rewards and fame. This is true of artists in all countries, including the developed ones, and particularly more so in the developing countries like Singapore during that era.

Despite the seemingly insurmountable obstacles facing full-time artists in Singapore, a promising young SIngaporean artist by the name of Thomas Yeo, who had earlier graduated from a London art college and who had gained some working experience in the United Kingdom as an art teacher and had participated in art exhibitions there and elsewhere, was planning to return to his native Singapore bent on earning his living as a full-time artist right away. When he confided his intentions to his former London college lecturer, the latter strongly urged him to desist from such an ill-conceived adventure. He then advised him to take a full-time job first, like teaching art, and pursue his own artistic creations in his spare time. This was what the overwhelming majority of art graduates in the United Kingdom would embark upon after graduation in order to survive economically before attempting to become a whole time artist later. He reminded Yeo that there were some 100,000 artists in the UK longing to become full-time ones, but, in reality, only a handful of the most outstanding among them would eventually make this viable. Such was the stark facts of life for artists anywhere then and even now. Yeo, while mindful of the sound advice of his former teacher, nevertheless decided to fulfill his ambition of practising art professionally from the beginning despite the odds against him succeeding were formidable.

Upon his return to Singapore in 1968, Yeo took the plunge immediately. Before the year ended, he was already staging a solo exhibition at the National Library Exhibition Hall, a popular and one of the few art exhibition venues then available here. More subsequent solo exhibitions followed in the ensuing years. His one-man shows were well-received by the art-loving Singapore public and my wife and I were among those who were captivated by his dream-like and lyrical landscape paintings, with their pleasing and vaguely familiar pastoral scenes, enhanced by effective and harmonising mix of vibrant but soothing colours, which were refreshingly aesthetic to the eyes and other senses. In short, Yeo had created quite a unique style which was instantly recognisable and difficult for lesser artists to emulate it convincingly. From landscape paintings, Yeo later simultaneously specialised in abstract collages, also with considerable success. He was a prolific artist and had held numerous solo and group exhibitions at regular intervals from the late ’60s to the present day in different parts of the world, both within and beyond the shores of Asia. He became one of the leading Singaporean artists when the ’70s ended. His works are in many private and public collections around the world. By 1984, only 16 years after he first set himself up as a professional artist, he was awarded the Cultural Medallion by the Singapore Government, the state’s highest arts accolade for artists and other arts practitioners. Yeo, now 72, is as active as ever in the pursuit of his beloved esoteric calling. Like all accomplished artists, he modestly believes that his best works will eventually emerge with time.

The Singapore art scene became more vibrant from the ’80s onwards and this has continued unabated until the present time, following the great leap forward of its expanding economy which has propelled this tiny island Republic into a First World country, with a per capital GDP that has now surpassed many other developed nations. As Singaporeans are now better educated, more affluent and more attuned to art and its sublime beauty, more art galleries , art museums, professional artists and art patrons have risen significantly. From only a handful of professional artists in the earlier decades, the number of practising artists, both full-time and active, are reckoned to have been increased to about 100 today. The most successful among them are now earning a comfortable income, own cars and properties and regularly travel overseas both for work or pleasure. Several have become household names too, and highly respected by their peers and the community.

Over the years, we have enjoyed purchasing a number of paintings by both the established and the promising artists in different media. These have withstood the test of time because their aesthetic charm and appeal are far from skin deep and they have and will continue to add value to our life. I would like to single out the following artists for special mention, as they have become our personal friends. One of our earliest acquisitions was an unusual oil painting by Choo Keng Kwang. When we showed interest in two of his works, he patiently and painstakingly enlightened us on the finer points and the subtle differences between the two paintings. We finally picked Riverside (dated 1972), a semi-abstract piece, as we were impressed by its harmony of colour and lyrical feel. Choo’s paintings command high prices today and are keenly collected both locally and abroad.

The late Chen Wen Hsi was already widely-known for his Chinese brush and finger paintings when he opened his own art gallery in the early ’70s. We became one of his instant admirers and could be seen at his gallery regularly at weekends. Our eldest son later joined his art class held at his home. He invited us to see his “private zoo”, with its gibbons, squirrels and a variety of birds. He would observe their movements and moods closely in order to enhance his creations. He is justifiably renowned for his depictions of gibbons and squirrels. We purchased quite a number of his works over more than a decade. We received these from his own hands and with his personal recommendations or endorsement. He was conferred an honourary Doctorate degree by the National University of Singapore in recognition of his contributions to art in Singapore, among other national honours.

Cheong Soo Pieng is unquestionably one of the most versatile and accomplished artists that Singapore has ever produced. He is equally adept in both Chinese and Western art forms. Among his most ardent supporters was movie tycoon and art connoisseur, Loke Wan Tho, whose untimely death in 1965 had robbed Singapore of one of its most illustrious art patrons. We managed to acquire two of Cheong’s works: Bathing by the Riverside (1961) in Chinese ink and colour and Sarawak River (1962) in acrylic. He advised us to buy one of his important oil paintings but, to our lingering regret, we did not do so as it was well beyond our budget. Sadly, Cheong passed away in the prime of his career in the 1980s and was a great loss to the art in Singapore.

We chanced upon a charming water colour painting by a medical doctor cum artist, Earl Lu, at a charity painting exhibition. We were fascinated by the blue roses in this painting as we had never seen one of our favourite flowers being captured in this hue before. His paintings sold very well at that exhibition as they were good and very reasonably priced and there were only a couple of them left. We bought it. Years later we got to know Dr Lu quite well as we were both active members of the Southeast Asian Ceramic Society. His wife ran an antique shop at the Tanglin Shopping Centre in the “70s and I had purchased a number of Chinese ceramic pieces from her. I later found out from Earl that these pieces came from his own large collection of Chinese and Southeast Asian ceramics. He donated a substantial part of his collections to local museums. He died a few years ago and was mourned by his many friends here and abroad.

I became acquainted with Thomas Yeo in the ’80s in the course of work. I was a member of an art advisory committee of which he was the chairman. My wife and I later established a firm friendship with him and his charming wife, Margaret, that has continued to the present time. As we got on well, Thomas invited us to his apartment to view his latest works. A master abstractionist, he is famed for his landscape paintings and collages, and have successfully created an inimitable style all his own. Needless to say, we were completely bowled over by his innovative and masterful works. With his expert help, and over cups of aromatic coffee and snacks made by his wife, we were delighted to become the proud owners of two of his catalogued works, a landscape painting dated 1987 and a collage done the following year.

Among the several younger talented artists, we took a liking to Christine Mak’s works. Her specialties are Chinese brush paintings and those done in Western mixed media. She studied under the late Chao Shao-An, a leading exponent of China’s Lingnan School of painting. Her works have gained popularity with both individual and corporate collectors. We have two of her works: Lotus Joy (1991) and Countryside (1994), both Chinese brush paintings. Her style is elegant and subtly conveys a gentle flow of tranquility and poetic charm.

As Singaporeans are now well-educated and very well-off, they will increasingly turn to art collecting as a means to upgrade their quality of life. The economic value and prestige of the Singapore art pieces will likewise be uplifted with time, if the experiences of the other developed countries are anything to go by. For those of you who are blessed with discerning eyes, and with financial resources to match, this is a good time to pick up works by local artists of your choice as they are still relatively affordable. If you make the right selections, they will give you continuous enjoyment like those now adorning our home have given us all these years.

Happy art hunting!
Lam Pin Foo
3.6.08

As my wife’s and my nascent art collecting interest grew with time, we began to venture into acquiring other artistic forms of creations, besides antique ceramics and jades, that were fashioned by human hands in an era when there was a deep-rooted pride in workmanship and when time was not a pressing commercial factor to afford the master craftsman the peace of mind and deep concentration to patiently execute his much admired finished works.

One of the best places for an average collector, with limited means but imbued with a sense of adventure, was to embark on an exciting journey of discovery in anticipation of finding treasures of old, which the uninitiated would contemptuously dismiss as junks, at the so-called “junk shops” or “flea marts” in many parts of the world. Happily for such collectors, several of these junk shops had sprung up by the 1960s in Singapore to satisfy the insatiable needs of a growing band of of their fraternity, comprising mainly the expatriate and diplomatic community and a small group of local people, and they were doing a thriving trade with them. Most Singaporeans were then quite indifferent to their own heritage and some would not hesitate to sell their family heirlooms for a song when they moved from their large extended family homes to their much smaller individual abodes.

Most of these junk shops were situated in Sungei Road, popularly known as the “Thieves’ Market”, Upper Paya Lebar Road and a couple of them were closer to the Central Business District of Singapore. At the corner of Grange Road and Paterson Road, there once stood a colonial-style bungalow painted in bright red colour, known simply as the “Red House”. Its spacious ground and rooms were overfilled with antiques and other collectibles, ranging from Chinese and European furniture to Chinese wood carvings, ceramics, paintings to Peranakan ornaments, embroidery works, household utensils and to other bric-a-bracs culled by its Shanghai-born owner from all over Singapore and Malaysia. It became a local landmark. Sadly for collectors, it was demolished in the early 1970s in order to make way for road widening.

All these junk shops had some attractive items to offer, but the Red House was easily our favourite weekend haunt as there were bargains galore waiting to be discovered from among the heaps of disparate collectibles by the discerning collectors who must, in the final analysis, discriminately select the articles that they really liked and which their residential spaces could comfortably accommodate. Compulsive and indiscriminate buyers would always run the risk of becoming a hotchpotch accumulator, instead of a collector, and turn their homes into junk shops! For instance, to get the best buys in old furniture and sizable wood carvings, one must be able to visualise in one’s mind’s eyes what the chosen piece would look like once it has been restored from its unattractive condition to as close to its original condition as possible. The congenial owner of the Red House, who was always clad in his trade mark singlet and underwear for comfort and convenience, would usually speak highly of every article in his store, leaving it to the potential buyer to make up his own mind what would best suit his needs and taste. He would not give any warranty as to to an object’s vintage and provenance, beyond stating that most of his pieces, of whatever origin, were of considerable age and that his prices were real bargains. It was a case of caveat emptor (buyer beware) and a test of one’s knowledge and judgment against that of this wiry dealer. One can either purchase an object, like an old Malacca chair, altar table, Peranakan cabinet or blackwood couch, with or without restoration work being done and the price differential would, of course, be substantial. If the agreed price includes restoration work, you can rest assured that it would be superbly finished by the Red House’s experienced resident carpenters and master craftsmen. A couple of my restored furniture pieces bought from this establishment four decades ago still look as good today as when they were first delivered to my house, despite their years of wear and tear.

From the 1960s until around mid 1970s, stocks of these collectibles were still, by and large, readily available and could be sourced cheaply by the junk shop operators through their networks of “runners” here and in Malaysia, including the ubiquitous “Karang Kuni” man who would scour every nook and corner, as it were, in order to persuade the ignorant or naive householders to part with their aged old family heirlooms for a pittance so that he could resell them to the junk shops for a quick profit. By the time the goods reached the hand of the collector, the junk shop operator would be laughing all the way to the bank!

The above period coincided with a time of heightened building activities in Singapore, both by the Government’s public housing programme and the private sector property developments. Numerous extended families, who lived in rambling bungalows, sold their bulky antique furniture and four-poster beds left by their elders for a fraction of their market worth as they were only too glad to get rid of them when they moved into their separate far smaller dwellings. These would invariably end up in the various junk shops and quickly snapped up by their favoured customers

Some junk shop operators never tired of regaling their regular customers with spicy anecdotes. One succeeded in convincing a young couple to exchange their valuable old rosewood living room set for a far less valuable contemporary sofa set with formica top to boot! An experienced Singaporean collector was astounded to come face-to-face with a large oil portrait of his late Malacca great grandfather in a junk shop, many years after his father and uncles had given it and other family items gratis to a “Karang Kuni” man as they were not sentimental in keeping them. He felt that he should salvage the family’s honour by buying the painting at an inflated price because the seller knew that it once belonged to a prominent family in Malacca.

By the end of the 1970s, more and more Singaporeans, especially the professionals and business executives, had become avid collectors of things old. They were joined by posh hotels, restaurants and interior decorators furnishing residences for their well-heeled clientèle. This was a bonanza for the junk shops and their prices shot up dramatically and the finite supply was substantially depleted and the shortage became more acute with the passing of time. In view of the increasing demand, a new industry in Malacca and elsewhere had sprung up in the 1980s, making copies of classical-style hybrid Chinese and European furniture catering to those who were not prepared to pay hefty prices for the genuine articles but would be satisfied with something that look like the real things.

My wife and I have had endless hours of fun and adventures visiting all these junk shops over the years and a couple of these operators had become our friends and we had gained some practical insight into their esoteric trade. Their stores had become reliable places to learn about the lavish lifestyles of the wealthy or discerning Singaporeans and Malaysians of the earlier generations, as well as the social and economic development of these two territories, through their once enviable and precious household possessions and lifestyles.

As a result of these delightful forays, we have accumulated an assortment of “antique junks” in our house, with some old flower pots and stands spilling into our garden, much to the amusement and even bewilderment of some of our relatives and friends who, most decidedly, do not share our passion in purchasing with good money “the leftovers of history”. These include a blackwood couch, tables, side tables, chairs, stools, trinket boxes, wood carvings and Peranakan ceramics and other fineries. They now have a prominent place in our home.

In the course of time, we came to know several fellow addicted “junk” collectors whom we met at the junk shops. Despite the fact that we were sometimes competing for the same objects, our friendships had somehow survived such rivalry and became firmly cemented. Who was the wise guy who proclaimed that the surest way to lose a good friend is to go with him on an antique-hunting trip. Well, my friends and I seem to have proved him wrong. We enjoyed visiting each other’s homes to view the others’ proud acquisitions and to compare notes on our triumphs and anguishes in pursuit of our magnificent obsession!

As human creativity and ingenuity knows no bounds and cultural barriers, some of our arty friends had adapted some of their purchases to uses which their creators had never intended them to be. As an example, a large polychrome Nyonya porcelain spittoon was proudly converted by its British owner into a flower vase and occupied centre stage in the living room of her black-and-white colonial-style bungalow. An American housewife turned several of her 19th century blue and white urinals into unique watering cans and had drawn acclaim from her admiring friends. Not one to be outdone by others in his sense of imagination, a Singaporean architect created what he considered a perfect coffee table by truncating the legs of the elongated and intricately carved ancestral altar table.

One of our rare and wholly satisfying finds was a stunningly beautiful spirit house, made of namwood and intricately carved and gilded, which originally would have the family’s ancestral tablets placed in it. The junk shop owner claimed that it came from Penang and once belonged to a rich family there. We placed this cabinet strategically in our living room and it had never failed to excite our visitors, one or two of whom had made repeated attempts to acquire a similar piece from the various junks shops and were greatly disappointed that none was available.

My delight in this masterpiece of art was, unfortunately, short-lived. My astonished parents pointed out that a spirit house is a sacred object and meant for ancestral veneration and that it was most inappropriate and highly disrespectful of me to display it as a piece of decoration. They firmly urged me to get rid of it quickly by selling it back to the shop, even if I had to incur a substantial loss in doing so. I was torn between whether to defer to my dear parents’ wishes or to defiantly uphold the collector’s pride of possession. As luck would have it, the shop owner who sold me this article had a keen overseas museum buyer for just such a piece and had been persuading me to part with it with a tempting offer that would be a perfect way out of my predicament. I reluctantly accepted his attractive offer to trade it for a good quality blackwood table with four matching stools which I had been eyeing for some time. It turned out to be a win-win deal for both sides, much to the delight of my parents.

Today, with Singapore becoming a very affluent First World country and with more well-paid expatriates in our midst due to its continuing economic expansion, clusters of junk shops are now spread out in many parts of our island republic. Regrettably for collectors, most of their stocks are now of more recent vintages (some were made yesterday in China, Indonesia and elsewhere and clearly stated as such), and even a few of their scarce genuine antiques are inferior in qualities and varieties compared with those that were readily available at attractive prices during their heyday in the 1960s and 1970s.

Lam Pin Foo
8.5.08

No one loves and reveres jades more than the Chinese. The Chinese are, indisputably, the most jade (yu) loving people on earth. They have always regarded it the “King of Gem Stones”, and their abiding love affair with it began several millennia ago. In ancient China, jade was eagerly sought and treasured by no less than the Emperor himself as well as his subjects. Many magical and even supernatural qualities were attributed to it, besides its aesthetic appeal when fashioned into varied shapes and forms by successive generations of master craftsmen. Even today, it continues to be valued as family heirlooms and affectionately handed down from one generation to another.

Throughout Chinese history, jade has been closely associated with the junzi (scholar) class, as it shares some of the character traits of a Confucian scholar and gentleman, which all true men of learning were expected to emulate.

It is a common Chinese belief that jade can bi xie, that is to ward off evil spirits or to protect oneself against imminent dangers. My aged late mother-in-law once sustained a severe fall from some height which could have resulted in serious injuries. Miraculously, she escaped the resultant fall unscathed except for a few superficial bruises, but her valuable and beautifully translucent yu bangle was smashed into pieces.

Only nephrite jade, which is mostly white in colour but also occurs in other hues, is mined or found in China but the really fine stones came from the former central Asian kingdoms of Khotan and Yarkand (now the Chinese province of Xinjiang) since early times. The choicest specimens would be presented to the Chinese emperor as tributary gifts.

Due to the skills and ingenuity of the Chinese jade carvers, this very hard gem stone, harder than ruby and second only to diamond in hardness on the Mohs scale, has been fashioned into diversely creative objects ranging from utilitarian tools to those for sacrificial or religious uses to specially created ornaments and works of art for the enjoyment of discerning collectors.

Pieces most highly valued by Chinese jade connoisseurs are those exquisitely carved in what is called the “mutton fat” jade, due to its intrinsic quality and rarity. On the other hand, when a different kind of jade called jadite, which is emerald green in colour at its best, was first introduced into the Chinese market from Burma (now Myanmar) during the 18th century after it became a British colony, it was immediately spurned by the Chinese jade experts who could not conceive the idea of quality jade being of any colour other than white. However, with the effluxion of time, the affluent Chinese, led by the high-born ladies, began to appreciate jadite’s brilliant colour and dazzling visual impact especially when crafted into jewelery items. Today, its most excellent specimens command high prices which would equal the best of the carved old “mutton fat” nephrite pieces.

According to Professor R. E. Strassberg, a sinologist at the University of California, Los Angeles, shuo-wen jie zi, a Chinese dictionary written more than 2000 years ago, laid down an authoritative definition of jade’s enduring qualities which he translated as: “The beauty of jade is revealed in its five virtues: Its lustre produces a feeling of warmth-the virtue of humaneness; its translucence enables one to comprehend its inner-markings, revealing the virtue of morality; its tone when struck reverberates, and its purity penetrates far, which is the virtue of courage; sharp and austere, it injures no one, which demonstrates its purity.”

Besides collecting Chinese ceramics, my wife and I were also instantly smitten by the subtle allure and seemingly spiritual purity of carved nephrite jade articles. We first came upon some excellent exhibits in the world-renowned museums and antique fairs in London in the 1970s and these spanned more than 4000 years of Chinese history showcasing the development of the jade industry there. They immediately aroused our keen desire to acquire a few examples of the later periods. Fortunately for us, nephrite jade works of above average quality of the 17th to 19th centuries were then in good supply at prices that would not burn a hole in one’s pocket. So we were able to purchase several articles from reputable antique dealers, ranging from finger pieces of human and animal figures to wine cups and to mandarin belt-buckles, all of which still adorn our jade cabinet.

Having whetted our appetite for jade, we were recommended by a collector friend to meet Helen Ling, a refined American lady married to a Singaporean entrepreneur, whose antique shop along Tanglin Road was well-stocked with splendid antique jade pieces as well as quality Chinese ceramics and ceramics of Thailand and Vietnam . Before coming to Singapore in the 1950s, she had a thriving antique shop in China but had to close it after the the founding of the People’s republic of China in 1949. Much of her remaining stock was moved to Singapore when she set up shop here.

She and her husband, Dr Ling, became close friends of the legendary Jim Thompson, who promoted Thai silk products internationally and earned the reputation as the “Thai Silk King”. His chain of shops in Thailand and overseas were thriving and well supported by both Thais and foreigners alike. While staying as the Lings’ house guest in their holiday bungalow in Cameron Highlands in Malaysia in 1967, Thompson went for his usual morning walk in the nearby thick jungles and disappeared without a trace. Till today, no body knows what really happened to him and whether he is still alive or dead. His body was never found. His old residence in Bangkok has been converted into a museum in his memory and much visited by visitors to that country.

We went to Helen Ling’s shop regularly at weekends and had gained some knowledge about antique nephrite jade under her expert and patient guidance. My wife bought several good quality jade ornaments and pendents from her over a period. We also bought Chinese and Thai antique ceramic pieces from her shop. All these pieces have given us endless hours of enjoyment. Articles such as these are now difficult to come by in Singapore except at high prices. She passed away in old age some years ago and we have very fond memory of her as an exemplary and highly knowledgeable antique dealer and a real credit to her rather esoteric trade.

We also had good buys from a couple of goldsmith and jewelery shops along South Bridge Road at most reasonable prices as they had bought their stocks very cheaply direct from China during the turbulent Cultural Revolution (1966-1977), which was a very dark and sad period in Chinese history. It was no wonder that their limited stocks, comprising mainly good of their kind pieces carved during the 19th and early 20th centuries, were quickly snapped up by local collectors. They were among our rare finds which were not easy to come by at other shops.

Our most spectacular bargains happened in Beijing in 1982 from a most unexpected source – in a tourist souvenir establishment at the famed Summer Palace. My wife and I were attending an international conference dinner in an elegantly furnished Chinese-style building when I came across a large tray of assorted old jade pieces, including belt-buckles, cups, tiny figurines, seals and other small ornamental objects, staring at us beneath the showcase of this shop near the dinning hall. An aged Chinese collector had asked the shop to sell his private jade collection on consignment. I missed a good part of the feast in order to select the best picks at prices which would not be possible anywhere else in the world.

Chinese history is replete with episodes on the allure and power of jade in influencing affairs of state or highlighting human addictions to it. The most well known incident concerning the He Shi Bi (a flat jade disk with a circular perforation named after a historic figure by the name of He Shi of the Warring States period (476-221 BCE). The story goes that the King of Zhao is willing to present his unique and priceless jade disk to the powerful King of Qin, who subsequently became the First Emperor of China and who has long coveted it, as the price for securing a non-aggression pact. When the Zhao envoy Lin comes face to face with the Qin king and realises that he has no desire for peace and is merely trying to trick him into handing over the invaluable object, he immediately threatens to smash it to smithereens rather than part with it. The Qin king then reluctantly sets Lin free with the bi intact, as he cannot bear to see it destroyed.

Today, Chinese jade carvings, both nephrite and jadeite, are enthusiastically collected worldwide and the continuing escalating prices paid for the most superb and rarest articles, which can fetch millions of dollars at international auctions, reflect their growing universal appeal and the scarcity of such works that are still available in the market place. This is because the choicest pieces are already firmly entrenched in the Gugong Museums in Beijing and Taipei, and other outstanding examples are to be found in leading museums in Japan, United States, other Western countries and also in the prvate collections all over the world.
Lam Pin Foo
21.4.08