27.11.25 — 21.12.25

Recurrence

Solo exhibition by Muhammad Yakin

EXHIBITION NOTES UNTITLED
(FOR MUHAMMAD YAKIN)

As a teenager from Bukittinggi, Muhammad Yakin once held a simple dream: that one day he would be able to make a living from drawing. In 2012, after graduating from the Vocational High School (SMK, formerly SMSR) in Padang, he worked for nearly a year as an illustrator, a job that affirmed for him that the hand could be both a mode of production and a tool for survival. At the time, he had yet to imagine himself working as an artist, let alone as a professional painter. The world of art seemed too distant, crowded with great names and rules he did not yet understand. Yet, it was this very dream that slowly propelled him out of the comfort of his hometown. In 2013, Yakin left Padang for Yogyakarta to study at the Indonesian Institute of the Arts (ISI).

At ISI, Yakin chose painting as his main field of study: a choice that felt, for him, like relearning his own body after graduating from SMK. In Yogyakarta, he seemed to step into a studio that had been waiting for him, discovering a lively and ever-shifting artistic community. Like many Minang migrants before him, he joined the Sakato collective and began participating in their exhibitions as a student. Yet the path was not free from doubt. Occasionally, Yakin wondered whether painting could truly sustain him. For this reason, he did not abandon his work as an illustrator—not merely as an exercise for skill, but also as a way to keep his feet on the ground while navigating each day in a foreign city.

Since his SMK years, Yakin had been familiar with digital tools: first the computer, then the drawing tablet, which has become an extension of his hand and thought. As he delved into conventional painting techniques, he continuously returned to the tablet to explore alternative possibilities in his sketches. On the digital canvas, the boundary between ‘sketch/design’ and ‘painting/work’ often dissolves. The software allows layers to be deleted, reversed, or recombined. The unfinished and the final coexist. One visual idea can generate a near-infinite series of variations. Yakin almost always carries his tablet, recording and developing ideas before bringing them to life with paint or ink on canvas or paper. Beyond this practical function, working with digital tools instilled a different way of reading his own ideas: that images are not fixed entities, but fields where forms can be reshaped, sliding into versions that are never fully complete.

It is no exaggeration to say that Yakin possesses a singular talent for rendering the human figure. His fascination with the human body begins in the simple: the curves of muscles and joints suggesting motion, or a waistline holding its breath. In the depiction of human form, Yakin finds a world where the abstract and complex must seek embodiment: a person’s fear materializes on a furrowed brow, silence inhabits a hunched back, desire seeps into tensed muscles. He is obsessed with anatomy: organic forms that never stand still, the meeting of bone and muscle always composing small dramas of tension and release. The body is an archive of movement, storing traces of fatigue, remnants of triumph, and shattered quiet. He believes that the human world need not always be rationally explained. While centering his exploration on anatomy, Yakin is not worshipping form but attempting to interpret the world through the oldest vessel— the body itself.

Yakin remains faithful to monochrome, black and white, or more precisely, to the entire range that lies hidden between these two extremes. Monochrome, for him, is not a condition of scarcity but a method to extract sensitivity from a limited spectrum. For much of his early work, he painted with India ink on Arches paper. The peculiarity of this paper lies in its long-fibered structure, produced by traditional cylinder printing techniques, providing a surface that absorbs yet remains flexible, allowing ink to seep slowly, creating depth without losing clarity.

In 2019, Yakin won the Most Promising Artist award at the UOB Painting of the Year competition with a work whose title sounded like a held breath: Human, Human, Human, Copy of Mimetic Desire. The ink on paper depicts interlacing bodies casting shadows upon one another, as if each figure strives to imitate the others, yet never achieves a perfect copy. There is a kind of existential unrest about human presence, never standing alone but always as a shadow of another. For Yakin, this work opened a door: that his obsession with the figure is not merely an anatomical study, but a more complex inquiry into how humans become themselves precisely through borrowed, imitated, and endlessly repeated desire.

It is compelling to observe how Yakin’s early preoccupations with the body, identity, and ideals resonate in the painting that earned him the top award at the 2024 UOB Painting of the Year. Its title is long, almost like a syllogism unwilling to be rushed: The Idol of Unmoved Uncaused Cause Mover. On linen, Yakin employs acrylic, Musou black ink, faintly glowing pigments, and gold leaf. The fragmented figures in the painting are not treated as anatomical tragedy, but as shards of thought: fragments of identity shaped by reading, by idols, by shifting desire. Rather than fracturing, the body shows that our growth is nonlinear, incomplete, and never finished. Yakin demonstrates that identity is not a narrative to be resolved by a single conviction. It appears as a mosaic: sometimes fragile, sometimes intricate, sometimes luminous.

With his 2024 victory, Yakin earned a two-month residency in Paris. The city, often depicted as the center of European art, suddenly became tangible space for him. There, Yakin was not merely a traveler but a painter testing his convictions in the shadow of maestros long known to him only through screens and book pages. His study became a pilgrimage of sorts: entering great museums like a classroom without instructors, letting works speak in a language he might not fully comprehend, yet listening nonetheless. Paintings once only a few centimeters in book reproductions now stood with full weight, with textured surfaces, with layers impossible to capture in prints.

This direct encounter was not mere admiration; it was a shift of perspective. From it, Recurrence, his current solo exhibition, drew its energy: from the brief meeting of a young painter with the vast archive of European art, which he eventually processed—perhaps as reference or quotation—into a new way of understanding himself.

Yakin’s works in this exhibition do not assert that his artistic exploration ends with his study of European paintings observed in Paris. These works are not mere repetition, appropriation, parody, or pastiche. Though they reference objects of study, Yakin does not elevate Western art history into an altar for worship, nor are the maestros cast as figures to be idolized. The relationship between this exhibition and his study objects is subtler: a resonance emerging without erasing the self.

For Yakin, it is crucial to understand that an artist can never fully reject the influences that arrive. Conscious or not, these influences become part of the process. He also maintains that the artist must locate themselves within their creative process, tracing how ideas arise, evolve, and are repeated, recognizing that this process is inherently human. In today’s contemporary cultural context, such reflection matters—not to judge who is greater or more renowned, but to understand how experience, observation, and artistic practice shape works that are not merely aesthetic, but grow and develop ‘organically.’

I believe Yakin’s approach absorbs much from his habitual work with the digital tablet, which teaches that each step, each trial, is a meaningful event. Sketches, corrections, and modifications are not merely stages toward the final work, but part of the visual experience itself. In this exhibition, Recurrence embodies the concept of iteration: repetition that is productive, where one idea can be restated in multiple variations without losing intensity, always opening new possibilities for both audience and creator.

Yakin continues to work in black and white, layering human figures until they fill the canvas. The bodies appear torn and segmented, endlessly repeated, as if each detail contains a pattern or contour, partially reminiscent of a collage or mosaic (notably the result of processing with the software on his digital tablet). Yet this distinctiveness is not merely visual. The human forms depict or fragment the fact that humans are never born alone, but appear in crowds, in repetitions that are never identical. Each figure is a version of the self in motion, readable as both repetition and iteration: a concept of repetition that is productive and always generates difference, not mere literal copying. Yakin does not replicate what already exists, but reveals something new each time it is repeated.

If one observes these paintings without guidance, it is not immediately evident that they emerge from the study of other works. That information comes later, through the artist’s words, guiding us to understand that there is a lineage and prior observation, visual traces that serve as starting points, not destinations. Without that explanation, the works stand independently, not imitating nor literally repeating. What emerges is Yakin’s skill in shaping form, brushing rhythm and gesture. Although most of the initial designs were conceived digitally, the final process feels analog, tactile, and manual. Viewers’ eyes and hands perceive the tension between digital and real, between repetition and improvisation, between plan and spontaneity. Technology is merely a tool. In truth, it is his own body, hands, and eyes that determine the final form, just as each of you, the exhibition’s audience, have the freedom to interpret it.

Agung Hujatnikajennong

Recurrence
A Framework of Thinking within the Gray Area

What truly happens when something returns but never arrives in the same form?

In life, we often encounter moments that may feel familiar, as if we have previously experienced, although the details shift slightly each time. Such moments spark curiosity about the ways time works within human experience. Does recurrence bring back memories from the past, or does it open new developments that allow us to rewatch a familiar scene?

Departing from this curiosity on such shifting experiences, Yakin began to trace the relationship between time, form, and methods of thinking. He sees every change as a space to reinterpret existing ideas. When an idea returns, its presence opens direction for further growth. Through this process, Recurrence emerges as a framework that operates within the Gray Area, a space that allows ambiguity to exist and provides room for ideas to continue developing.

Recurrence as a Method of Thinking

Yakin uses Recurrence to explore how ideas move through time. He recognizes that an idea does not appear just once and then simply done. Instead, it returns, transforms, strengthens, weakens, or shifts according to the experiences surrounding its creation. Each reappearance becomes an opportunity to examine the way of thinking he is currently following. Through such cycles, Yakin witness the relationship between what he has considered in the past and what is growing within his process in the present.

This approach allows ideas to intersect with time without being separated by distance. Yakin interprets the return of an idea as a moment to reread its developmental direction. Changes in color, form, or composition open paths for understanding how his thoughts move. Recurrence gives space for such shifts to expand comprehension.

Through this method, his way of thinking continues to grow following what he observes and experiences. Yakin places himself within this flow and follows how ideas interact throughout the creation process. At this point, Recurrence forms a thinking framework that turns changes feel alive, as each reappearance brings new possibilities for understanding.

Gray Area as a Space for Deconstruction

The Gray Area works as a space to reassess ideas that have surfaced throughout the process of creation. Within this space, forms can be dismantled to understand how ideas operate, change, or lose their original meaning. Transformation gives Yakin the chance to reread the relationship between concept and visual form. Through this method, the Gray Area becomes a place for ideas to move without being bound to an earlier state.

At this stage, each visual element receives attention according to its role within the thinking process. Form, color, and composition are tested through different placements to reveal relationships between elements more clearly. Reassessment offers new indicators for the direction that is developing. By observing how forms works in various situations, Yakin can determine whether an idea should be expanded or reorganized.

Through such deconstruction process, each work acts as an experimental field. Every transformation opens the possibility of meanings that were absent in earlier phases. When forms are tested repeatedly, the relationship between concept and visual outcome also shifts. This reveals that creation is not a final statement but a process that provides open space for ideas to grow again.

Eventually, the Gray Area forms a dynamic system. Each creation becomes a record of how ideas move through time, context, and shifts in perspective. The thinking and creating process respond to one another, producing a path that never truly stops. For this reason, the Gray Area keeps creation open to development and alive within a process that continuously unfolds.

Recurrence as a Principle of Creation

Recurrence in Yakin’s practice serves as a way to observe how ideas shift according to the rhythm of time, experience, and context. Whenever an idea returns, he interprets it as an opportunity to understand its own direction of growth. Repetition allows creation to proceed gradually, because each phase brings adjustments that emerge from new observations. Through such cycles, the relationship between idea and form grows through constantly renewed traces.

In his creative process, recurrence appears in the shifts that emerge from earlier stages. Changes in color, composition, or visual gesture indicate how an idea adapts to the surrounding situation. Yakin sees this process as a way to understand how experience guides the direction of creation. Each shift offers a chance to reread the relationship between idea and its visual realization.

Experience becomes a vital element for the sustainability of this creative continuity. Experiences he had went through enrich his understanding of ideas that are unfolding during the process. When experiences return in a different form, the connection between past and present expands the possibilities of meaning within the work. Through this dynamic, recurrence becomes a meeting space between what has been felt and what is being constructed.

This principle of recurrence also allows ideas to adjust to changes in perspective. Whenever Yakin encounters different situations, he observes how his ideas shift to response to developing conditions. This process creates a dynamic relationship between thinking, creating, and observing. Through this approach, recurrence becomes a system that keeps creation always on the move alongside the changes that accompany it.

About Recurrence

Recurrence reveals that creation unfolds through continuously moving relationship between idea, form, and experience. Each work grows from observations that are continually updated through repeated processes. Recurrence provides space for ideas to develop in response to the passing of time, allowing the relationship between thinking and creating to remain interconnected. Through this flow, creation becomes a process that stays open to new readings at every stage.

This approach demonstrates that creation occurs through a meeting of time, experience, and context. Each phase provides opportunity for ideas to adjust to the changing conditions of its surrounding. Through continuous observation, an idea can move, absorb traces of the past, and transform into a new form. Therefore, Recurrence works as a way to maintain the continuity between ideas and the fundamental thinking process.

The exhibition becomes a space where Yakin’s framework of thinking takes shape through his experience of witnessing the forms he creates. Each work acts as a visual experiment that situates ideas within the Gray Area, a space that allows ambiguity, shifts in meaning, and growth that never truly complete. Within this context, this Recurrence exhibition presents itself as an open process that reveals how ideas move through time, form, and perception.

The questions that base his search remain open and continue to generate new reflections. What happens when a fundamental structure shifts? How far can meaning persists when each reading presents another possibility? Each time these questions return to face the work, the relationship between idea and form moves along with the ongoing process. At that point is where Recurrence reveals itself as a way of thinking that continually returns in order to open the way in the development of understanding that keeps evolving.