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Conteng 1: Frangipani, Bukit Gombak
Conteng 1: Frangipani, Bukit Gombak
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Conteng 2: Angsana Tree, Hillview
Conteng 2: Angsana Tree, Hillview
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Conteng 3: Umbrella Tree, Lakeside
Conteng 3: Umbrella Tree, Lakeside
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Conteng 4: Sea Apple Tree, Commonwealth Cres
Conteng 4: Sea Apple Tree, Commonwealth Cres
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Conteng 5: Angsana Tree, Toa Payoh Lor 4
Conteng 5: Angsana Tree, Toa Payoh Lor 4
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Conteng 6: Moringa Tree, Aliwal Street
Conteng 6: Moringa Tree, Aliwal Street
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Conteng 7: Rain Tree, Jalan Sultan
Conteng 7: Rain Tree, Jalan Sultan
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Conteng 8: Yellowflame Tree, Siglap
Conteng 8: Yellowflame Tree, Siglap
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Conteng 9: Mango Tree, Bedok South
Conteng 9: Mango Tree, Bedok South
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Conteng 10: Rain Tree, Bedok South
Conteng 10: Rain Tree, Bedok South
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Conteng 11: Yellowflame Tree, Chai Chee
Conteng 11: Yellowflame Tree, Chai Chee
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Conteng 12: Kacapi Santol Tree, Tampines
Conteng 12: Kacapi Santol Tree, Tampines
Marla Bendini Singaporean, b. 1986
Conteng, 2025
Conté on paper, marker on polaroid
12 pieces; 18 x 14 x 4 cm each (framed)
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These tree rubbing works are quiet acts of communion, created by rubbing conté on paper against the bark of trees in neighbourhoods I once called home. In tracing the textures...
These tree rubbing works are quiet acts of communion, created by rubbing conté on paper against the bark of trees in neighbourhoods I once called home. In tracing the textures of bark and body, they also map emotional landscapes—fragments of memory, family, and place.
Here, the tree is not a passive subject but a collaborator, kin, and witness. The act of rubbing—tactile, repetitive, embodied—is a ritual of care: a form of touch, memory-making, and transcription. Each impression becomes a tender inscription of presence and listening—a gesture of honoring the landscape as a living archive.
Accompanying Polaroids frame these trees against the backdrop of former homes—a return not only to places, but to feelings once held and kinships still unfolding.
These works are not souvenirs of trauma; they are talismans of return. They hold space for healing, continuity, and becoming—offering this simple message: We were here. We are still growing. Our stories are safe and alive, held by the trees, the soil, and each other.
Here, the tree is not a passive subject but a collaborator, kin, and witness. The act of rubbing—tactile, repetitive, embodied—is a ritual of care: a form of touch, memory-making, and transcription. Each impression becomes a tender inscription of presence and listening—a gesture of honoring the landscape as a living archive.
Accompanying Polaroids frame these trees against the backdrop of former homes—a return not only to places, but to feelings once held and kinships still unfolding.
These works are not souvenirs of trauma; they are talismans of return. They hold space for healing, continuity, and becoming—offering this simple message: We were here. We are still growing. Our stories are safe and alive, held by the trees, the soil, and each other.