Kim Lim
The Space Between. A Retrospective
National Gallery Singapore
Singapore
Sep 27, 2024–Feb 2, 2025

Having grown up in cosmopolitan Malacca and Penang, the Singapore-born British artist Kim Lim arrived in London in 1954 to study and pursue a career in art. But despite considerable recognition during her lifetime—including becoming the only female and non-white artist to be featured in the 1977 Hayward Annual—Lim’s contributions were largely overlooked after her untimely death in 1997. During her career, Lim’s status as “female and foreign” in the postwar British art scene set her apart. This defiant refusal to be “othered” led to her turning down an invitation to participate in the seminal 1989 exhibition “The Other Story: Afro-Asian Artists in Postwar Britain,” which shone a light on marginalized artists. Her decision reflected a determination to be recognized for her artistic merit alone.

At the outset of Lim’s long overdue retrospective, curators directed viewers’ attention to Pegasus (1962). This wooden sculpture, named after the mythic winged horse, reflects Lim’s early exploration of archaic forms, influenced by the Romanian sculptor Constantin Brâncuși. Two semicircular “wings,” affixed to a vertical spine with metal hinges, delicately balanced on an off-center base, evoking the potential for movement and subtly hinting at the creaking sound. This dynamic energy resonated throughout the exhibition, particularly in works such as Samurai (1961) and Table (1964), where an upright disk and sphere seem ready to roll away, injecting palpable tension into the otherwise serene atmosphere.

The second section traced Lim’s shift from totemic forms to industrial materials, such as blockboard, steel, aluminum, and fiberglass, paired with an emotive chromatic palette, a change mirroring the embrace of minimalism and mass production in the 1960s. In works like Blue Note (1966) and Candy (1965), Lim employed industrial paint to “anonymize” natural textures, prioritizing formal immediacy. The striking white-painted steel arch Day (1966) and the layered, shell-like arcs of Steps (1967) highlight Lim’s focus on mass, volume, and light-shadow interplay, evoking “the experience of more than is there.” This dynamism extends to her vibrant circular aquatints, which, suspended from the ceiling seemed to respond to air currents, thereby enhancing their kinetic quality.

Lim’s mastery of light, space, and rhythm was evident in the exhibition’s third section. Intervals I+II (1973), crafted from fabricated wooden units, and the Interval print series (1972), printed on transparency paper, delve into the exploration of seriality and modularity, evoking a sense of change and evolution. A particular standout was her seldom-seen Cut Paper Works (1976–78), in which she meticulously incised Japanese Tonosawa paper, creating patterns that blur the line between architectural and organic forms—temple roof soffits echoing leaf venation. Suspended in acrylic frames, these understated works defy traditional modes of display, engaging with light and shadow to transform flat surfaces into immersive, three-dimensional experiences. This sculptural quality extends into her prints, where shaped copper plates produce textured, tactile contours.

The exhibition’s inclusion of archival materials—rare photographs, maquettes, etching plates, woodblocks, and sketchbooks—also provided an insight into Lim’s innovative approach and creative process. Travel photographs documenting her journeys across Europe and Asia revealed how these experiences shaped her artistic vision and engagement with diverse cultures. Titles like Caryatid (1961), Ronin (1963), Irrawaddy (1979), and Kudah (1989) further hint at transcultural influences, though Lim preferred subtle evocation over explicit reference, letting these inspirations resonate through form and feeling.

The exhibition’s final section explored how Lim turned to stone and marble following her 1979 retrospective at London’s Roundhouse Gallery, signaling a deepened connection with the living world. Though working with durable materials, she paradoxically explored themes of impermanence and organic rhythms. In small-scale sculptures such as Padma III (1985), flowing lines of varying depths evoke the slow weathering of natural forces, eroding the stone’s perceived immutability and introducing a sense of weightless movement. Lim persisted in this demanding medium without studio assistants, even after undergoing spinal surgery, showcasing her unwavering dedication to her craft which is now finally receiving the critical recognition it deserves.

Over a four-decade career, Lim’s mastery lay in animating static forms, effortlessly merging the universal and the personal to elevate simplicity into profound expression. This timely retrospective further cemented her legacy and underscored how her artistry continues to shape contemporary art’s evolving landscape.

Yvonne Wang is a writer and ArtAsiaPacific's Singapore desk editor.

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