Claudia Koh’s Tender Trap (2023) depicts a quietly eerie bathroom scene: in a shower stall, ants crawl across the floorboards, strands of hair clog a drain, and a pair of bare feet rest in a shallow puddle, which bears the hazy reflection of a person’s face. The somber tableau conveys a sense of both physical and psychological entrapment, which, for the Singaporean artist, is a condition inherent to urban life.

From aquariums to rain and sweat, the element of water pervades Koh’s work, recalling the stifling humidity of her home country. She views the city as a fish tank, beautifully designed yet spatially restrictive, evoking intimacy while allowing little privacy. Most of her canvases center on this metaphor. In Blind Spot (2025), a nude female figure crouches in the corner of her apartment, while to the right, a fleshy arowana observes her from its glass enclosure. Even as the woman attempts to hide behind a curtain, she remains exposed to both the viewer and the fish, whose presence lies somewhere between companionship and intrusion. In its captivity, the fish mirrors the woman bound to her low-lit apartment, which is awash with murky purple-red tones. The window behind her shows a high-rise building outside, the units resembling a stack of fish tanks whose artificial glow penetrates the night.