Here, it seems it’s all about the rhythm of getting by. Decisions made not for their inherent value, but for the simple act of completion. Tick the box. Send the email. Meet the KPI. Not with a flourish, not with exceeded expectations, but with the quiet satisfaction of a task accomplished. A message sent, a box checked. That's enough, right?

Have I revealed enough of myself, my potential, without appearing… desperate? And then you dissect their papers, eager to prove you grasp the nuances of their field, that you’re not merely another face in the crowd, but an individual with a distinct perspective, a unique voice waiting to be heard.

The ambiguity of the situation gnawed at me. It was a strange dance of expectation and reality. Because, in truth, a supervisor wasn’t a mandatory prerequisite at this stage. It was ‘encouraged’, yes, a gentle nudge rather than a firm directive. Encouraged, but not compulsory.

That’s the thing about feedback. It’s inherently challenging, not because it’s wrong, but because it holds a mirror up to your work, and by extension, to yourself. To take it in requires a certain headspace, a preparedness. You can’t simply dive in blindly. There’s a ritual to it, you find your way of transitioning into a mindset fortified with enough self-assurance and grace to withstand all those exposing vulnerabilities.

In 2024, the interplay of nostalgia, creativity, and growth shaped a year of profound personal and sensory experiences. These moments, rooted in tradition yet forward-looking, offered a glimpse into a year where the past and future converged to enrich the present.

This year’s listening journey was as complexity as life. What strikes me most is the way this year’s records balanced precision and vulnerability. I also noticed an interplay of opposites: melancholy paired with euphoria, the quiet of intimacy set against the grandeur of orchestration, the root of tradition interwoven with the innovation.

It strikes me how little has happened today or on all those Christmas Eves I’ve recounted. There was nothing monumental. And yet, each one stayed with me, even if it reads like a mosaic or a broken puzzle. I can remember them, write about them, and somehow, in the act of remembering, I find some way to piece them together, putting words and giving it permission for a second life.

At its essence, A New Home extends the spirit of the exhibition series, offering a meditation on the quiet transformations between movement, settling in, isolation and connection. What does it mean to call a place home within Singapore’s heartlands? How do these spaces shape the rhythms of our lives, and the shapes of our identities? By inviting viewers to dwell in these in-between moments, the series opens a reflective dialogue on identity, routine, and the fragile yet enduring bonds we form with the spaces we inhabit.