ARCHITECTURE AND THE ARCHITECT:IMAGE-MAKING IN SINGAPORE

By Virginia Who and Bell Tan with photographs by Beton Brut and six contributing photographers

Do Not Design/Paperback/256 pages/$53.50 with GST from Basheer Graphic Books at 04-19 Bras Basah Complex or Gallery & Co at National Gallery Singapore; $50 from art gallery Deck at 120A Prinsep Street or art centre Objectifs at 155 Middle Road; or on loan from the National Library Board under the call number English 720.95957 WHO

Those who still lament the loss of buildings such as the National Library in Stamford Road know keenly what it is like to live with only the memory of places that shaped one's sensibilities.

You might think, then, that such nostalgia is really a thing of the past for Generation Z.

A new book suggests that, in Singapore architecture at least, this is not necessarily the case.

In fact, it is heartening to note that Architecture And The Architect: Image-making In Singapore is an attempt by wet- eared Singaporeans to provoke discussions about the place of Singaporean architects in their own country, through quite telling interviews with the pioneers among them, including Tan Cheng Siong, Tay Kheng Soon, Joseph Cheang and Chua Ka Seng, as well as their younger ilk Wong Mun Summ and Richard Hassell.

The veterans' reflections, in particular, lend welcome heft to what is largely an album brimming with fresh snaps of old places, including Woodlands Town Centre, the black-and-white flats of Monk's Hill and the cutting-edge Gateway office tower.

It would be remiss, however, not to red-flag the fact that each of these interviews represents only one side of the story.

The book would have fostered deeper discussions if its creators had presented at least two different perspectives from those involved in each of the book's 40 featured buildings.

Virginia Who, the book's editor and lead writer, is the pseudonym of National University of Singapore architecture graduate Dawn Lim. She interviewed the architects for the book, while her fellow freelance writer Bell Tan had to resort to gambits such as playing mahjong with MacPherson estate residents to get them to share their views on living there.

The book's strongest suit is its sensuous, smartly angled images, which soak up most of its pages, and for good reason. That is thanks largely to the talent of full-time photographer Khoo Guo Jie, or Beton Brut, who captured early buildings such as People's Park Complex in Chinatown, Golden Mile Complex in Beach Road and Village Hotel (formerly Paramount Hotel) in Katong.

About 40 per cent of the book's understated, atmospheric pictures are by six contributing photographers, including Darren Soh, Patrick Bingham-Hall and Tim Griffith.

The core team for the project was assembled by self-taught graphic designer and publisher Yanda Tan, who runs his own firm, Do Not Design.

For me, the simple test of how faithful a book like this is to the past is whether it makes me say: "I was there."

I remember Singapore in the late 1970s to late 1980s vividly and, yes, this book takes me back swimmingly.

Architect Tan, whose works here include the scroll-like apartment tower Pearl Bank in Outram Road and the condominium cluster known as Pandan Valley near Clementi, said as much in an e-mail to me last week: "When they first approached me about writing more about Pearl Bank and Pandan Valley for the layman, I said, 'Good.'

"They themselves are laymen and see architecture from a visual and emotive standpoint.

"What they have done is very down to earth. I like it."

More significantly, the writers', heartfelt and polished contribution to the narrative of architectural development here is a rare record of the crisis of confidence Singaporean architects have faced for at least 35 years, chiefly because their compatriots have long preferred to entrust all its big-bucks developments to renowned foreign architects such as I.M. Pei, John Portman and Geoff Malone.

The book is not without flaws. Most of these come from inexperience and, occasionally, naivete.

For example, they declare in the book's preface that they were driven by the thought that "it would be wonderful to feature buildings that make people sit up and say, hey, I've never known such a building exists in Singapore".

Unless they are referring to unadventurous visitors here, the fact that one can cross mainland Singapore from east to west in about 40 minutes by car makes such a statement ludicrous.

Equally head-scratching is the team's decision to feature photographs of buildings without a single human being milling about the structures. What is a place without people? Forgettable, for one thing.

Nevertheless, the team should be lauded for their yen to rekindle a love of landmarks shaped by Singaporeans.

Fact file

Documenting Singapore buildings

Full-time photographer Khoo Guo Jie knows a thing or two about occupational hazards.

Singapore-based Khoo, who works under the moniker Beton Brut, was recently in Zhengzhou, China, for an assignment - on the rooftop of a four-storey building.

"They had to put me in a metal cage suspended from a crane to hoist me onto a roof 12m off the ground," recalls the 30-year-old, who began his career photographing food, after he was encouraged to pursue photography by his successful showing at the National Arts Council's yearly Noise Singapore Festival.

When his friend's husband got him to shoot a showroom in Bukit Timah Road for toilet accessories maker Toto, he soon found himself enamoured of buildings and their interiors, a personal favourite being People's Park Complex.

His chief collaborator for the book is architect Dawn Lim, 29, who is a part-time researcher and freelance writer and goes by the pen name Virginia Who.

The National University of Singapore alumna is fascinated by the politics of domestic space, which is about why, for example, the kitchen has morphed from a place where families gather to one "for displaying a certain lifestyle".

Lim, the only child of an engineer and a housewife, shares Khoo's love of interiors.

She recalls sleeping with her parents until the age of seven, when she got "the freedom" of her own room and started redecorating it.

She and Khoo were brought together for the project by Yanda Tan, founder and creative director of local design firm Do Not Design, who designed the book's overall look.

Lim says: "Many people who have given us feedback have referred to the book as an 'effort' rather than a book. I guess that tells us something."