Vogue Dialogues: Usha Chandradas on the value of arts criticism and the evolution of her advocacy

It is the night before she flies to London for a week and Usha Chandradas is sitting across from me in a restaurant, huddled in the quietest corner we could find. We were meant to meet for a tight 90 minutes—just enough time to fit in all my questions about her journey in the art world over the last few years. Three hours in, I glance at my watch and realise that when in conversation with Chandradas, it’s remarkably easy to get lost in the sauce.

There isn’t a single topic which surfaces that she doesn’t appear to be remarkably well-read on. At one point, we find ourselves in the midst of an impassioned discussion about AI and its impact on the field of education—an issue Chandradas has to deal with firsthand in the International Tax and Trade course she teaches at Nanyang Technological University.

“I let my students use AI,” she declares, throwing her hands up in a ‘let me explain’ gesture when she sees my jaw drop. “I don’t deny that there are many serious problems with AI that we are still unpacking—environmental impact, of course, which is completely awful, and then the fact that it may be trained on unethically obtained materials. But I owe it to my students to be practical about the future. It’s important to me that we discuss AI in the classroom because I don’t want them, eventually, to go out into the world and start using all these platforms without understanding their power.”

“I let them use it and then we talk about how they use it. This works in our context because the module I teach is fairly technical and requires a combination of numbers-related work and the application of legal principles. Right now, the AI may only lead you in the correct direction, but it’s not going to give you the precise answer that I’m looking for. So the students’ baseline understanding goes up, but they still need to do the work for themselves if they want to get the top grades.”

Another tip for resisting AI’s brain-numbing influence in the classroom? “I make my students debate in class,” she offers. “They have to respond to each other in person, on the spot. You can’t use AI for that. I mean—you probably could, but you would look quite ridiculous.”

It’s a small moment, but one that I feel neatly sums up Chandradas’s outlook on the world—in particular, her ability to form independent opinions regardless of their popularity. In a culture where knee-jerk outrage often wins out nuanced thought, it’s a quality that is refreshing as it is rare.

“I’m not the same lawyer I once was. With the work I’m now doing in the arts charities space, I feel like all roads are leading back in one direction.”

Still, this fine-tuned calibration between passion and practicality should come as no surprise, given the amount of practice Chandradas has had moving between worlds. Her professional expertise is both varied and deep-reaching: educated as a lawyer and chartered accountant, Chandradas left her 12-year career as a tax lawyer in 2016 to pursue a Master of Arts in Asian Art Histories at Lasalle.

When I express admiration for her unconventional yet brave choice, Chandradas gently deflects: “I was very lucky to have been able to make that choice. I didn’t really have any dependents—my parents didn’t need financial support, my husband had a self-sustaining job. I had good savings. It was an incredibly privileged position to be in. So when people talk about giving up everything to pursue the arts, I’m like, please, let’s be real. It’s very different if you have other obligations.”

It was during this period that Plural Art Mag—Chandradas’s brainchild along with a couple of her then-classmates—was born. In its first iteration as a blog, the platform was a far cry from the sophisticated, well-regarded online magazine dedicated to Southeast Asian art it is known as today.

“We built the website from scratch and didn’t know what we didn’t know. I was fresh out of my law career, so I spent a lot of time going line by line, checking for typos and missing full stops,” Chandradas reminisces fondly. “But we were fuelled purely by the belief that although there was so much cool stuff happening in the arts in Southeast Asia, there was hardly anyone outside the scene who knew about it. We felt strongly that someone needed to talk about it somewhere.”

Amid the artist profiles and news stories, where Plural Art Mag shines most is in its reviews: pieces of well-constructed, deeply thought-out arts criticism penned by the wide Rolodex of writers and art lovers who contribute to the magazine. These are the stories that take a reader into the heart of an exhibition or show, introducing them to an emerging voice or old master, providing access into a world that is often unreachable to the average reader in our part of the world.

Equally as vital, Chandradas extols, is the value that arts criticism provides to the artists themselves. “With smaller galleries and artists in particular, the role of the art critic is even more important. These entities do not always have the resources of the big institutions, but they deserve meaningful interaction with and constructive feedback on their work.”

She continues: “I still do not think we have enough independent art-focused publications. There is a lot of writing in the Southeast Asian art space, but not a lot of it is in English. Long-form art writing, in my view, is incredibly valuable because it carries intellectual rigour as a baseline. It provides you an opportunity to really go into detail.”

For some, two separate career paths studded with their own milestones would have been more than a lifetime’s worth of achievements. For Chandradas, it was an invitation to do more. At the time of our conversation, she is two months out from closing a significant chapter: her term as a Nominated Member of Parliament (NMP)—an appointment which saw her advocating for Singapore’s arts community for a period of just under two years, using her voice to ensure that their needs and perspectives were taken into consideration across a range of issues.

In a parliamentary debate about the Maintenance of Racial Harmony Act, Chandradas illuminated the particular ways in which the bill might affect artists in Singapore. “Local arts and cultural groups have long engaged in thoughtful, critical and necessary conversations about identity, history and race, and these are voices that should be nurtured,” Chandradas said, offering suggestions that would help distinguish genuine and valuable artistic expression from racially motivated hate speech in the application of the law.

In a speech responding to the 2025 budget announcement, Chandradas made a case for greater government support towards arts charities’ attempts to diversify their revenue streams outside of purely relying on donations. “If charities were out in the field securing contracts and paid work, as some charities do, they would be creating a multiplier effect—generating freelance and subcontracting opportunities for other workers and players in the arts,” she pointed out.

“Long-form arts writing is incredibly valuable because it carries intellectual rigour as a baseline and provides an opportunity to really go into detail.”

Chandradas’s stint in parliament brought to light a unique set of powers afforded by her sweeping background. Armed with legal expertise, razor-sharp economic insights and a deep, unbridled passion for the arts, her entry point to advocacy allows her—unlike anyone else—to bridge the gap between the needs of Singapore’s arts community and the distinct forces that shape the city’s landscape.

Her trip to London, she explains, is for a course at the London School of Economics, where she will learn about new models of sustainability for non-profits and social enterprises. “In Singapore, the percentage of giving to arts and heritage charities is exceptionally low,” she explains. “I’m currently working on understanding the charity and funding space. Why do people give? How do they give? Where do they give? What motivates them? Then, I’d like to see whether those kinds of principles can be applied to arts.”

It’s one example of the kind of impactful strategy work she has been diving into since wrapping up her NMP term. “I’m actually quite enjoying putting my lawyer hat back on,” she says with a small smile. “I’m not the same lawyer as I once was. I have always volunteered with the pro-bono office, but with the work I’m now doing in the arts charities space, I feel like all roads are leading back in one direction.”

She laughs, throwing her head back: “I don’t think about linear trajectories anymore—I go towards what pulls me, which might be terrible career advice! But like I said, I’m very lucky to be able to do what I love, which is making the arts more accessible to everyone, artist and viewer alike.”

Welcome to Vogue Dialogues, a series by Vogue Singapore in which we spotlight key writers, poets and literary voices driving change for good through groundbreaking work.

Back for its second year, Vogue Dialogues is presented with the support of Chanel. A long-standing patron of arts and culture around the globe, Chanel has deep roots in the literary world, led by key initiatives like The Literary Rendezvous at Rue Cambon which brings together writers to discuss important themes like female empowerment. With their support of Vogue Dialogues, Chanel joins Vogue Singapore in celebrating our local and regional literary scene, as well as amplifying the voices of Asian and female writers all around the world.

Associate lifestyle editor Chandreyee Ray
Director of photography Lenne Chai
Gaffer Timothy Lim
Sound Jenn Hui Chia
Camera assistant Kinleung Lau
Post-production AMOK Production
Producer David Bay
Styling Nicholas See
Hair Winnie Wong
Make-up  Victoria Hwang
Special thanks to National Gallery Singapore