End Credits
I wanted to write something about The Projector, and it felt like I needed to break the usual format of the newsletter for this edition to do so.
The Projector—Singapore’s sole independent cinema, and a space that has hosted everything from wrestling shows and cat adoption drives to LGBTQ+-friendly events and festivals dedicated to transformative justice—has shut down.
Many people have penned thoughts far more eloquent than mine (Kirsten Han, for example). I will say though that, like everyone else, it broke my heart when I learned of their closure.
Over the last ten years, I’ve watched countless movies with friends at The Projector. Weird, wonderful, brilliant, and beautiful movies. In those early days, we would follow up our screenings with drinks at the Golden Mile Tower carpark bar, and chat about the film well into the night.
Even after that bar shut down, there was still that communal feel to The Projector, that sense that it didn’t matter if we were there just for a movie screening; we were part of a place we could call home.
The staff always had a smile for us. Many other patrons were our people: likeminded misfits or lovingly artsy fartsy types looking for something a little different and maybe even a little dangerous. Or something strange, or silly, but always special.
A movie. An experience. An escape. An hour or two spent in a darkness that enveloped you—not like a shroud, but like a hug.
When it first opened, I had never seen anything quite like it in Singapore before. Sure, we’ve had art spaces come and go, but this was a space that felt like it wasn’t just for the art crowd. It actively welcomed those who didn’t realise that there was something missing from their lives—people who found a colour there, amidst the sea of grey that constantly threatens to drown us.
A day or two ago, I had heard that there’d be one last party at The Projector, a shindig where we could bid the place farewell and dance our asses off. I’ve just come back from that party.
I popped in at around 10:30pm. The elevator opened to a space that was packed from wall to wall. Partly because of the crowd and partly because I wasn’t in the mood to dance my ass off, I instead just grooved along to the wonderfully eclectic mix of tunes, which even more than the gathered throng, served as a testament to the variety of people that The Projector has attracted since it began.
I stayed for about an hour or so, but I think I was already good to leave when the DJ played “Don’t Stop Believin’” and I nearly teared up as the crowd all sang along to this one perfect line.
“Oh, the movie never ends. It goes on and on and on and on.”
I hope The Projector isn’t the last of its kind. I don’t think it will be. We’re a stubborn bunch, us Singaporeans starved of a culture that can be a bit chaotic, but also oh-so-magical.
I’m still sad though. I’m also angry. But, more than anything else, I’m grateful. For the movies, for the memories, and for changing us just enough that, even with it gone, The Projector’s spirit remains with us—as strong as ever.
And that’s it for now
Independent artists and spaces will always need your support. Show them love, however you can, before they’re gone.
If you want to show my work some love:
Work-Life Balance is an award-winning prose/comics hybrid that I co-created with Benjamin Chee. It will be available in bookstores and comic shops around the world once again at the start of 2026. If you can’t wait till then, the best way to get a copy in the meantime is through our publisher’s website.
Worlds Apart: A Conversation About Mental Health is a comic that I co-created with Nurjannah Suhaimi. You can get it directly from our publisher or in-store at these fine comic shops:
How Are You Feeling? collects Worlds Apart, along with other comics by Andeasyand, Vinita Ramani, and Griselda Gabriele. There isn’t a scheduled date that it’ll be on international bookstores’ shelves at the moment, but you can get it now through our publisher’s website.
We’ll return to our irregularly scheduled newsletter next time. Until then, take care, folks.