Veteran Gallerist Richard Koh on the Art of Collecting

Richard Koh is a master collector and champion of Southeast Asian contemporary art, not only through his gallery Richard Koh Fine Art but also in his private, personal collection. He hammers home the notion that collecting art need not be precious or profitable; all that matters is affinity — that they hold some manner of meaning to you, however insignificant. He demonstrates this ideology in his second showcase at The Private Museum, Of Dreams and Contemplation: I am All but a Story — Collection of Richard Koh (which runs until 9 March), presenting pieces that resonate with him at an intimate level.

There is a room filled with word art. Another is monochromatic, with all-black artworks on the surrounding walls and a series of sculptural crystal vases in the middle. One section had some vague connection to water and waves, but that motif was abandoned in the final presentation. Collecting need not — should not! — be thematic. The most personal has to be the pieces at the stairway landing: a rattan sculpture and Ben Puah’s Flying birdies in my brain No.1 representing his parents, with a statue in the corner as a self-insert.

The exhibition works as Koh’s “visual diary”, offering insights into different moments of his life. He took the time to share one such nugget with L’OFFICIEL HOMMES SINGAPORE:

“My collecting approach has always felt unhurried, almost like skipping stones across a pond — light, spontaneous, forward, backwards and sometimes even stationary. I simply find things that speak to me, often in unexpected ways. You might see something that triggers a certain memory or evokes a laugh, or maybe it strikes a chord because it reminds you of a pivotal moment in your life. That's how these pieces start to gather, one by one. 

The work by Samuel Xun, for example, was shown in a toilet in an old building in Singapore. It was mounted on a mirror, and it read, "Boo, it's not me, it's you" in bold red, glittery text. That piece immediately resonated with me. There’s a certain sense of humour to it, and it’s so relatable. It’s playful and free-spirited, but also kind of cheeky, as if it’s poking fun at the very act of confrontation — the awkwardness of not wanting to take responsibility. It’s the kind of thing I’d say in a light-hearted moment, especially when dealing with the absurdities of life. It reminds me of the common quip, “The problem is not me, it’s you.”  

The best works don’t just hang there, they engage with you — they start a conversation. And with Xun’s piece, it felt like the artist and I were having that conversation in real time, laughing at the same thing.”