The artist who turned "feminine" household objects into vulvas

Hee Suhui has never shied away from talking about sexuality — especially female sexuality. Through conversations with her peers, the artist realised that women in Singapore had "vastly disparate experiences" when it came to their own sexuality.

"A large number had never seen another woman's vulva," says Hee. "It dawned on me that in the current climate, a sexually active man might have seen more vulvas than most women."

It's a paradox that Hee attributes to the 'taboos' surrounding female sexuality in Singapore — a shroud that the artist is particularly keen on lifting. "The trauma of silence and invisibility breeds shame," she says. "Images of the vulva aren't in the mainstream, and are seldom seen in celebratory light."

In her latest work, Other Faces, Hee challenges those notions by contrasting mundane household objects with the starkness of the female anatomy. Common euphemisms for female genitalia — a drooping flower, an opened clam, the pit of an apricot — take on the literal, almost confrontational fleshiness of a vulva. "It combines vessels of beauty, femininity and pride with the vulva," Hee explains. "It reframes the vulva as beautiful, as something to be celebrated."

Other Faces is part of waxing boutique Strip's new campaign to normalise conversations about female sexuality — specifically, the vulva. Voyage to the Vulva-verse features a collection of other paintings celebrating the female anatomy; the exhibition can be viewed physically at Hatch Art Project from now until September 22, or online.

Hee — who affectionately refers to the artwork as a 'labia of love' — says that her creation wasn't just created to spark conversations, or to rouse controversy: She says she created it to provides an outlet for her to reflect on her own "shame."

"By challenging the bastion or monument of beauty with my personal vision of it, I can stare down my own shame and disembodiment," she says. "It gives me the chance to honour and bask in the visceral, uncanny body."

She tells us more about the importance of female representation in art, and how she finds "relief and a sense of peace" through the grotesque.

Tell me more about Other Faces. What's the story behind the piece and its name?

I chanced upon a beautiful mirror at a junk shop and thought it mildly hilarious and wildly apt for the work. Some scholars have said the handheld mirror is the inspiration behind the symbol of femininity or Venus (♀).

The mirror is also the symbol of self-knowledge and agency. When we first encounter ourselves in a mirror - also because of society’s shunning of naked bodies - we rarely encounter it together with our genitalia. It then becomes less entwined with, and secondary to, the identity that women first form of ourselves. The name Other Faces is a plea to see through a different set of eyes and to form a more holistic picture of who we are as women.

Breton’s Surrealist movement in the 1920s was decidedly male and very much a boy’s club. Unearthing overlooked [female artists] like Leonor Fini, Ithell Colquhoun, and Kay Sage rewrote the narrative of that time for me.

I was inspired by their doggedness at creating their own worlds despite constantly being relegated to the status of muses instead of artists. I felt safe in those sensual worlds. Other Faces was made with the paintings of these artists in my visual environment.

There's this element of subversion in Other Faces — of turning feminine objects into frank depictions of the vulva. What made you want to experiment with that duality?

Using objects from my mother’s vanity and displays, the artwork combines vessels of beauty, femininity and pride with the vulva - reframing the vulva as beautiful and something to be celebrated.

I’m invested in breaking the taboos of my mother’s generation, and creating a culture where talking about the vulva and about sexuality is normalised. By taking away the visual euphemisms, you are confronted with what you are trying to hide.

Making work for the female gaze gives me the satisfaction of rejecting the objectification and fetishisation in androcentric Surrealism.

Your other works have this element of delicate beauty, but this undercurrent of grotesqueness and the macabre as well. Where does that come from?

I was quite sickly as a child and was faced with a lot of my own biology in hospital. Through my process while examining the grotesque, I find relief and a sense of peace.

By challenging the bastion or monument of beauty with my personal version of it, I can stare down my own shame and disembodiment. It gives me the chance to honour and bask in the visceral, uncanny body.

Strip and Two Lips are all about demystifying and destigmatising female sexuality, specifically, the vulva. Is that a topic that's close to your heart?

The trauma of silence and invisibility breeds shame. Images of the vulva are not in the mainstream and are seldom seen in a celebratory light. When Strip and Two Lips reached out to me, I felt seen to be asked to do this and was also glad there was someone championing the cause using art as the medium.

The exhibition Voyage to the Vulva-verse feels like the first of its kind in Singapore, and is a forerunner in creating spaces for difficult conversations around female genitalia. It felt empowering to break the silence and taboo surrounding this topic with this band of eight artists. It’s high time women lifted the veil of euphemising and shame around the vulva.

How far along do you think Singapore is when it comes to speaking openly about female sexuality?

I think there is a large chasm between what needs to be said and the current discourse in Singapore. When I started my work, I was having more conversations about intimacy and orgasms with my peers and they all related vastly disparate experiences. Some expressed an alienation from other women regarding these topics, and a large number had never seen another woman’s vulva. It dawned on me that in the current climate a sexually active man might have seen more vulvas than most women... a thought I found rather odd.

The language around female sexuality needs to change. For a mother to speak to her child positively about genitalia, for a peer to share experiences, for a partner to listen and learn, for intimate health and sex education to be geared towards inclusivity and for celebratory conversations around the vulva to happen. One way to respect and care for one’s privates begins by changing the way we speak about it.