When the pandemic hit, freelance artist, art director, and designer Alyshea Mo was still a student at the University of the Arts London (UAL). Her plans to pursue a career in Europe and graduate with staging an exhibition were interrupted as she hurried back home to Singapore. Necessity being the mother of all invention, Alyshea, like many other creatives, had to be creative in finding new avenues of income. From dabbling in film production to creating her own brand Byalymo, Alyshea's efforts to kickstart her career in the arts despite these less-than-ideal circumstances are testament to her tenacity and discipline.
Together with comic book artist Angela Wu, in an interview with Alyshea, we talk about the challenges freelance artists face in Singapore, finding one's artistic process, and what lies ahead for Byalmo.
What made you decide to pursue a career in the arts? What was your journey like?
I've always been inclined towards arts and crafts since I was young. My mother is a very creative person—she does a lot of handicrafts and makes things from scratch—so I learnt a lot from her and owe a lot of my creativity to her. Art was a hobby that I enjoyed, and everyone knew that I loved drawing, painting, making gifts for friends over Christmas.
When I was in primary school, I came to know a senior who went to SOTA [School of the Arts]. At that time, it was still new, only about two years old, so my parents were obviously skeptical. And I had to immediately build a portfolio, go for an interview, and make many decisions all at once. But in the end, I got in, and that was the first distinct moment where I was like oh, I could actually do this.
After SOTA, I interviewed for UAL [University of the Arts London] almost immediately after completing IB [International Baccalaureate]. I didn't apply to any other schools other than art schools, which was definitely a big step. I needed to do a lot of convincing for my parents. They've been very supportive, but this time it was about carving out a path for my career. It took a long time for me to discuss it with my parents, since it's a lot of money, and I didn't manage to get any scholarships. Obviously, there is a lack of arts scholarships in Singapore as well. Eventually, I managed to get into a few schools I applied to and I decided on London. From there, my practice just sort of developed.
To be honest, I still wasn't very sure even though I was in art uni. I wasn't sure exactly what stream of art to go into, what my specialisation was, what I wanted to be known for. There were a lot of questions unanswered. Before Covid, my plan was to try to stay in Europe, try to get any kind of job so I can get a visa, and try to put my name out there because I think that's the most important part of being an artist. But the pandemic kind of decided for me that I needed to come home. Then, I just focused on finishing school. I lost the opportunity to stage my own exhibition, which is the biggest thing for art students to look forward to. The exhibition functions as kind of a springboard for your career because lots of people are expected to attend.
I felt quite lost when I graduated. I didn't know where to start and was so out of touch from the Singapore arts scene. I jumped into film production for a while, which was very different from what I was doing in uni—fine arts—and decided I could do that but it wasn't my passion. So now I'm freelancing, starting my own brand, doing what I want to do, while also doing some art directing and art assisting in film, since I already made a small mark there. It's a good source of income, good way to meet new people. I'm still figuring it out, to be honest [laughs]. But I think my main goal is to focus on getting my name out there.
You've worked with a wide variety of mediums. How did you develop your practice?
Since SOTA, I've always been more concept-driven than medium-driven. When it comes to "labelling" myself, I always say that I am a multi-disciplinary artist. I like trying different things. In SOTA, I specialised in painting, but I also did some video work and projections, a bit of sculpture. When I was in uni, it was pretty different. I felt constrained by space, being a foreigner. I didn't have space to build big things because it was like, how would I bring this home? I became interested in work that was transient and that didn't have to exist in a certain space. I did a series where I painted mini postcards and sent them to random addresses, to get rid of the physical pieces of the work. The whole point was to contact and connect with these random people.
What's your process like? What are the inspiration(s) for your work?
It's constantly changing, but I'm always circling around the idea of belonging. I would describe my practice as a search. I try to experiment with different methods and materials. When I was in London, I always felt out of place, so I was always searching for a sense of home, and not just in a physical sense. Recently, I also delved into the subject of religion. There are things about my religion that I obviously don't always align with but it's also something that holds me close to my family, so it's always a struggle between the two. I wrote my Dissertation, Fear Thyself, on this struggle. It was an introspective piece of writing on how fear manifested itself in different aspects of my life. In it, I talked about the divided Self, guilt, and the uncanny. I even interviewed a priest for this paper! I was very emotionally invested in it. It was like a diary.
When I came back to Singapore, I had to figure out how to make a living for myself, which is how I started my brand Byalymo, creating wearables and prints. I liked the idea of people wearing something I designed and made. One of the biggest push factors was also because the art magazine that I co-edit for, Now & Again (started by my friend, Chen Yi An), was involved in the annual Singapore Art Book Fair. I used that to soft launch my products and took that as a gauge for Byalymo.
For Moonrise, my first T-shirt design, I was inspired by tarot cards. I am very in love with the moon and have painted a lot of things surrounding the moon. It's a little cliché, but for centuries, people have always looked up at the moon. It's mystical, it's magnetic.
A lot of my product designs start from very unassuming things. When I posted a sketch of A Hug, for example, a lot of people seemed to like it and one of my friends suggested I use it for a second T-shirt design. At first, I was just printing it as a sample for her.
I'm very excited by the response to A Hug and also thinking of new ideas. As a creative, I need my brain to be stimulated! I have different plans to expand to socks, bucket hats, more prints etc.
Through Byalymo, I did a fundraiser for AWARE Singapore too, inspired by the Sarah Everard case, who went missing in London. Not feeling safe was something I experienced a lot in London and I felt driven to do something. I've always been vocal about my social and political views and as an artist, you do have a platform to advocate for issues. I think AWARE does great things so I reached out to them. The fundraiser was also an opportunity for me to test the waters on how my Singaporean audience would receive prints. At the start, it was going pretty slowly. A lot of people felt that there was no practical use for prints and postcards, which I definitely understood, but this was very different from the European scene—a lot of my friends based in Europe make a living through prints. It's just not something the Singaporean market responds to. It's definitely a different crowd, but I guess you have to adapt.
There's some financial instability when it comes to freelancing. How do you manage those pressures?
It's true, I'm very lucky to be staying in my parents' house, so I don't have to worry about rent. I still have savings from my previous job, which is good, because there's a lot of investment that goes into freelancing. For example, for my T-shirt business, I have to pay a huge lump sum upfront. What I try to do is to work really hard on social media, create content, and connect with a lot of young Singaporean artists through Instagram. A lot of them are also freelancing. It's nice to know that I'm not the only one in my position. I also try to find small brands, ask them if they need help with design... It's just a constant process of finding jobs while sustaining Byalymo.
It's also a different thought process for the [business side of things]. You'll have to think, is this going to sell? But as a maker and artist, at the heart of it, I don't just make things for an audience, which is important to remember. It's easy to follow trends, but even as Byalymo grows, I want to keep it personal and not mass-produced.
It's definitely difficult. But I do enjoy socialising and meeting people, and being familiar with social media helps break down barriers since you can contact other freelance artists very easily, and create that collaborative and shared space. Being a freelancer also pushes me to work harder as compared to a full-time job. I am always fully absorbed in what I am doing.
Actually, being financially restricted also makes you think more deeply about the work you produce and you will find more innovative ways to make what you want with what you have. Sometimes, that's what distinguishes your work. For example, Moonrise came with a DIY mineral wash option where I rolled marbles into diluted screenprinting ink onto the black T-shirts to give it a faded, textured look. I am a huge fan of DIY and I've been doing these clothing "re-vamps" since young—tie-dyeing, cutting up T-shirts etc. I even had a blog back in 2013 [laughs] teafordays.wordpress.com. It was just something I enjoyed and had experience doing so I figured why not, it makes everything more special and personal anyway.
Do you feel pressured to constantly create content on social media?
I've been on Instagram since 2012, 2011 so I feel like I have been consciously making content for social media for a long time now. But when I turned it into a business, I felt this humungous push to continue posting because that's what business platforms do. It helps with the algorithm, and it really shows. The last few days, when I was working on my art directing projects, I couldn't be on Instagram that much, and there was already a dip in interactions. It's something to worry about. As an artist, however, if you really need a break, there's no point in trying to push content out because it's really quite draining. A lot of artists I know still post every single day, which I am quite amazed by. Sometimes in my mind, I'm like work is work, so just do it but you do have to check in on yourself because if you are making things you are not enjoying anymore, or if you become wrapped up with the whole social media thing, that's not a good sign.
Have you noticed any other differences between Singapore and London's arts scenes?
Well, first of all, this is a generalisation from only my perspective—I can't speak for everyone and I'm still a relatively green artist—but I had this perception that the London/European art scenes have a lot more opportunities for small, sort of homegrown artists. Even just solely based on the fact that they have more spaces for studios, galleries, all these independent groups to form. I really loved and admired that because they're not owned by a big name or big brand or big gallery or whatever. That was something I really wanted to stay there for, because it's quite scary to only have big galleries to apply for or represent you, like in Singapore. I guess I was more interested in what the big galleries were not showing.
But when I came back to Singapore, I also discovered some small groups starting to develop locally. I came across this Instagram page called @starvingartist and I think they'd shown two exhibitions so far. It's not really curated, just a space that changes everyday for artists to show their stuff and audiences would come in to interact, you know, the whole shebang of networking, enjoying art, and having the conversations that I really looked forward to and wanted. I think that's really the crux of it all—having that space and having that experimental community where people are making and talking. I really want to be involved in that.
I think there are fewer opportunities [in Singapore] for new artists to show their stuff, which is what the London/European scene could afford to have. The appreciation for different art genres is also definitely still growing, but Singaporean audiences are still less receptive to "non-mainstream" art genres. Even where they do exist, they are either censored or perceived as more of a trivial news headline than part of our cultural voice and identity. But with the growing presence of social media, talented Singaporean artists are already able to break these barriers and get global reach.
What advice do you have for other young people who are also aspiring towards a career in the arts in Singapore?
I think I'm the young person who needs advice [laughs]. But I think if I could talk to my past self... I generally have a lot of anxiety so I wanted things to perfect. That kind of thought process impeded me from creating things because I was always worried that it wouldn't reflect my best abilities. That really limits your production of work. So, I would advise to not try so hard to be perfect because you are limiting yourself from things you could learn from. I'm not saying that producing more work is better, but it definitely allows you more space to experiment and push your practice.
It's okay to make terrible work because, like I said earlier, at the end of the day, it's what you want to make and what you think is important. Especially in fine arts, we were always questioning whether our work was important because if it wasn't for activism, or a cause, or something that was important to the arts industry, then what are we doing this for? And usually, the answer was that it's personal. The things that drive us to make things are what is most important to us. What was important to me was the idea of belonging and the search for home.
I like to think—and I think that it is true—that if something is so important to you that you are driven to do work about it, then it's probably important to a lot of other people. The theory of the lonely artist, stuck at the top of the tower, making wonderful work because he is so extracted from the pool of people below is a myth. There are obviously different schools of thought about this, but my practice is a search for something, so it will always be personal and experimental, because I am finding something I might not even know.
There's a difference between making work for yourself and making work for other people to see. I think that's important.
A Hug T-shirts, commissioned tiny paintings, AWARE notebooks/prints, and Moonrise tote bags are still available on Byalymo's online store.
This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity.
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