Cover Visual artist Sam Lo with "Coming
Home", his new
commissioned
artwork, at the
Peranakan Museum
Visual artist Sam Lo with "Coming Home", his new commissioned artwork, at the Peranakan Museum
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Ten years after his brush with the law, Sam Lo has come into his own as a visual artist with an evolving practice built around social commentary and observations on the idiosyncrasies of Singaporean culture—and all this while finding his own identity
From being the art director of this year’s Chingay, the country’s largest multicultural street performance and float parade, and meeting outgoing Singapore president Halimah Yacob at the Istana to completing a new commissioned artwork currently showcased at the refreshed Peranakan Museum, you could say that Sam Lo has had a pretty swell 2023 so far.
But what makes this year especially poignant for Lo, who is also known by his artist moniker SKL0, is that it is 10 years since he was formally charged with mischief after pasting stickers on public property and spray‐painting public roads. Colloquial, tongue‐in‐cheek expressions such as “Press Until Shiok”, “Press Some More” and “No Need to Press So Many Times”, in reference to the national habit of pressing traffic light buttons repeatedly in a misguided belief that doing so makes the lights change faster, appeared at various pedestrian crossings around the city in late 2011. Lo also spray‐stencilled the words “My Grandfather Road”—a Singlish phrase used to tell people off when they are blocking other people’s way—along roads in the central business district.
For him, that was “a way of taking back [public] spaces to show how there’s some soul or character here [in Singapore]. I wanted to draw people to something that we can all relate to—and that’s our culture. One of the things that’s unique about [Singapore] is Singlish, as well as our quirks and mannerisms,” says Lo when we catch up with him in his home. He adds: “With these inside jokes, the whole point was to make people smile, or feel a bit happier, when they saw them.”
The works quickly went viral as people started sharing them on Instagram. Thus motivated, Lo continued with this cheeky public art project—that is, until the law caught up with him. His arrest in June 2012 made headlines both at home and overseas, in what became dubbed the “Sticker Lady” saga; the arrest sparked online commentary and debate about the blurred lines between art and vandalism. Lo later pleaded guilty to mischief, an offence that carries a lighter punishment than vandalism, the original charge, and was sentenced to 240 hours of community service.
Read more: How To Protect Your Creativity And Passion From Burnout
Above Sam Lo on the July 2023 cover of “Tatler Singapore”
Sam Lo on the July 2023 cover of “Tatler Singapore”
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“I didn’t regret anything—and I still don’t,” he says. “I know [that] whatever I did back then, I would still do now because I have the same motivations. I’m just doing it differently now because of my circumstances—and I choose this path because I know I have to survive in this city. But I still remember how I felt back then about the cause and putting these works out because I really wanted to say something.”
While today Lo is a popular artist and even, for many, someone to aspire to be like, he never intended to go down this career path; he does not even have any formal training in art. Before his arrest, he had just completed a business management degree; he also has a diploma in food science and nutrition. He was, though, already finding ways to speak up and out. He was behind the now‐defunct online magazine RCGNTN (pronounced “recognition”), a platform spotlighting Singapore‐based creatives, which he ran while learning design. It was during this time that he started dabbling in typography and learnt how to use Adobe Illustrator, the graphic design tool he would go on to use to create stickers.
We interview Lo in the living room of his HDB flat in the east of Singapore. The contents of the room reveal more about the people who live there, from the shelf of art books featuring street masters Keith Haring, Shepard Fairey and Jean‐Michel Basquiat to the boxes of spray paint in a rainbow of colours spread out on the floor. A focal point in the space is a large print of My Grandfather Road, a chalk work spanning 170 metres across Circular Road that Lo created—legally—in 2016 with the help of 10 volunteers and left for the duration of a two‐day event organised by non‐profit art organisation Hyphenarts.
The artist considers the piece one of the “bigger statements” in his body of work, which spans large‐scale murals, sculptures and installations. Themes in his works include community and diversity or, as Lo puts it, “relating to people through the common experience of just being human”. Freedom is also a recurring topic and the reason Lo uses bird motifs in his murals. “I want people to be able to relate to this need and be free of their circumstances—and to just be authentic. Once we acknowledge this, we can feel empowered to do greater things.”
Lo knows this first‐hand. As he was realising his artistic potential, he was also discovering his true, authentic self: he came out as transgender and non‐binary in 2019, and now goes by the pronouns he/they. Growing up, he had never felt comfortable in his own body. “Once puberty hit, I was like, f***, I hate this body. But I didn’t know where it was coming from and what I was feeling. I had no role models, no positive representation, not even in the media.
Above Lo wears Zegna jacket, trousers and his own
tank top, sneakers
Lo wears Zegna jacket, trousers and his own tank top, sneakers
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“I started learning more about gender dysphoria on social media first, and seeing other representations. The younger generation is using social media more freely to talk about their transitions, their lives, their experiences. Seeing all these content, I’m like, ‘This has been me this whole time’,” says the 37‐year‐old. “That’s why I wanted to pay it forward and be that representation I want to see, one my younger self would have wanted. I realised so much of this through the younger generation, and it made me more confident to come out publicly and as trans. That’s so important.”
But before coming out, Lo wanted to get top surgery, the removal of breast tissue to masculinise the chest. A friend, who is a trans man and activist, had recommended a doctor in Penang who is empathetic towards the trans community. “I went [for the surgery] and I felt so free. This [body] actually feels closer to me,” says Lo. “I had opened Pandora’s box towards a path of self‐discovery of my gender identity; I came out as non‐binary at that point because I could never put myself into those [gender] boxes.
“But over time, I feel like I’m not there yet—closer, but not there. When I was doing research about being trans, I remember seeing the bodies of trans men and how I wanted [to look like] that too. At first, I didn’t think about getting hormones; I was just going to stop at top surgery. But with so much affirmation from my top surgery, I felt it was necessary for me to take the next step,” Lo says. He was referred to a gender doctor and an endocrinologist—and has been on hormone replacement therapy (HRT) since. “I had to check in with the doctor after six months to a year to see how I’m doing with the changes. Every month, I just feel better and better; I realised this is me in my actual body now—I feel like myself.”
Even so, the change took some adjusting to. “To be honest, there’s a bit of a dissonance in how people look at me now—I’m more conscious about how I come across; even how I use my voice. I used to assert myself because, as a woman, you’re always being overlooked; but now with my bassy voice, I sound bloody aggressive,” quips Lo. “And when I go into women‐only spaces, I feel as if I no longer make [women] feel safe because I’m no longer seen as a woman. I feel like I lost that community. The conversations that I have with men and women also feel different now.”
Lo married his long‐time girlfriend, Euphoria Ng, in San Francisco last year, when he had begun his transition. “She’s the most important person to me. When I told her about the top surgery, she was very supportive. She said, ‘It’s your body and you should be comfortable with it.’ She was in Penang with me, cared for me, and continued to care for me when we came back.
“Everyone was asking about me, but no one asked if she was okay. I didn’t realise it either until she told me,” he says, adding that Ng has been “patient, understanding and solid throughout, even when I was irritable after starting on hormones, when she was also struggling with her own conflicts on her identity; like, is she still considered a lesbian? It can be difficult for the partners of people who are transitioning.”
Read more: This Singaporean Filmmaker’s Debut Feature Is a Love Letter to the Trans Community
Above Lo wears a Gucci vest, jeans and his
own tank top and
necklace
Lo wears a Gucci vest, jeans and his own tank top and necklace
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“My mentor Zero once said to me that everything we create is a little bit of ourselves. So I’d say a lot of me goes into everything”
Coming out to his parents as trans was less straightforward. Lo, who is an only child, was already on HRT and it was only a matter of time before his voice would break. “It was scary for me because I had to [break] it to them for the second time—the first was coming out as a lesbian—but surprisingly, my dad started asking questions and was genuinely interested. My mum, on the other hand, went really quiet and took a while to accept it.
“She has always wanted a daughter; now, she has a daughter‐in‐law—she loves Euphoria so much. We just came back from a trip to Seoul with my mum and aunt. I was queuing up to buy food in the market, and my mum was talking to Euphoria, who told me later that she said that spending more time together really helped her come to terms with it—and she could actually see me more as a son. It was such a heavy conversation to be having in a market, but that was huge,” says Lo, the relief apparent in his voice.
Lo has long been a vocal advocate of LGBTQ+ rights, publicly supporting causes and non‐profit organisations such as Pink Dot and the Association of Women for Action and Research. Last year, he painted what was probably the first pride mural in Singapore, behind Aliwal Arts Centre. Tropical birds in vibrant colours, representing the queer community, are intertwined with the words “Still Here”, in “a show of strength to highlight to the community that we exist, we are still here”, he says. And in fine text, the words: “Pushing for inclusivity, marriage equality, to be recognised as a family, to protect trans lives, equal rights and the freedom to love.” The piece also comes with a QR code that links to useful resources on LGBTQ+ issues.
Lo hopes to make such walls an annual thing as a way of giving back to the community. He went to Penang the week after our photo shoot for this story, which took place in May, to paint a similar wall at the Hin Bus Depot, a community art space; the week after that, he was back at Aliwal Arts Centre, this time collaborating with digital agency MeshMinds to create an augmented reality piece.
“My work has always been for people,” Lo says—but it also reflects him. “My mentor Zero (Zul Othman, one of Singapore’s best‐known street artists) once said to me that everything we create is a little bit of ourselves. So I’d say a lot of me goes into everything.” Take, for instance, Coming Home, a mixed‐media installation commissioned by the Peranakan Museum that serves as an ode to his own Straits Chinese heritage. The artwork consists of a series of lanterns hanging from the museum’s central airwell. Based on his research into what it means to be Peranakan, the work explores various themes in Peranakan culture, from architecture to craft and belief systems. Throughout the creation process, Lo also recognised the loss of tradition to modernity: the craftsmen who made lanterns the traditional way, using bamboo strips, were hard to find, partly due to the progress of time and the pandemic. Even though the Hokkien-style cross-weave basket lanterns he eventually procured from a local craftsman were of a style different from what he wanted, Lo really appreciated that he still made his own lanterns.
Lo often incorporates hints of Peranakan culture into his works—especially traditional floor tile patterns. Some examples include his murals—particularly Community at Shake Shack’s Neil Road outlet—as well as his collaborations with major international brands such as Nike, which invited Lo to design permanent murals and graphics in its largest flagship outlet in Southeast Asia at Jewel Changi Airport, and Casio, for whom he designed a limited‐edition G‐Shock watch to commemorate Singapore’s National Day in 2019.
Throughout our conversation, Lo is perceptive, self‐reflective and articulate, even as he jokes about using ChatGPT to generate his artistic manifestos. “I want to be more intentional, from the work I put out to the people I meet and the interactions I have. I’m at that stage now where I’ve experienced saturation, so I want to be intentional in how I manage the stress and how I can be kinder to myself—and that means enriching myself.”
Above Lo wears a Prada shirt, chinos, and Bottega
Lo wears a Prada shirt, chinos, and Bottega
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“Every month, I just feel better and better; I realised this is me in my actual body now—I feel like myself”
For many, being kinder to oneself might mean stepping back from putting oneself out there, because there are always going to be haters and naysayers. But Lo is happy to take every opportunity that comes his way to push for representation—even if that means accepting a life in the limelight, and all the pros and cons of being a public figure. “I want to do this for my community: not just for my graffiti and street art community, but also for my queer community, because how often can you find queer or trans representation? I want to show that we’re not just these negative stereotypes that the media always portrays us to be, and that we can actually do anything we want. We shouldn’t just survive, we should thrive. And I’m in a position where I can—and want—to do this.”
Credits
Photography: Darren Gabriel Leow
Art Direction: Charlene Lee
Styling: Daryll Alexius Yeo
Grooming: Grego Oh using Keune Haircosmetics and Chanel Beauty
Photography Assistant: Rex Teo
Stylist's Assistant: Crystal Lim
As Senior Editor of Tatler Singapore, Hashirin champions and refines the storytelling across platforms—curating and crafting compelling profiles, cover stories and features that spotlight visionaries shaping culture, business and impact. Driven by curiosity, she draws inspiration from the artists, changemakers and trailblazers she encounters through her work. Beyond the pages of Tatler, she is an avid supporter of local theatre and delights in seeking out art in every city she visits.
