countercurrent

interviews   about

Institute of Critical Zoologists Singapore



 Stumbling upon the website of the Institute of Critical Zoologists (ICZ) feels like rummaging through a digital curiosity cabinet. Its pages read like a field guide assembled by a trickster scientist: annotated photographs of insect traps, handwritten reports on shifting island ecologies, correspondence between unnamed researchers, and the occasional sighting of a creature that may or may not be real. The ICZ claims to foster “a critical approach to how humans view animals,” but the deeper you go, the more that statement folds into something stranger—an invitation to question how we construct truth in the first place.

The Institute is, in reality, a fiction. Or more precisely: a one-person operation by Singaporean artist Robert Zhao Renhui since 2006. What began as an undergraduate project became a long-term inquiry into the entangled lives of humans and other species. Robert’s expeditions and observations seep into the ICZ archive, which continues to expand through books, exhibitions, and quiet interventions in the world. Sometimes the Institute feels like a parody of scientific authority; sometimes it reads as a patient, reverent study of the living world.

“How can we be critical of something that seems so factual?” Robert asks. By adopting the language of science—its taxonomies, its field notes, its institutional tone—he exposes its blind spots and ideologies. In doing so, he invites us to see science—and our own assumptions about nature—as wonderfully messy.




Robert Zhao Renhui, Yindi Chen, Yutong Shi, December 2, 2024

Yutong    

When and why did you start the Institute of Critical Zoologists?

Robert    

I started the Institute in 2006 during my BA in Photography. It began as a school project—a space to imagine an institute conducting experiments and projects that explore how zoology frames our understanding of nature. It became a way for me to try to mirror science or how we approach nature in art, and how text and image work together to shape ideas and assumptions about nature, facts, and our relationship to photography.

Yutong    

How did you come up with the name “Institute of Critical Zoologists”? Why use “Institute”? And what did you have in mind with “Critical” and “Zoologists”?

Robert    

Most of what I know about nature comes from science—through National Geographic, BBC programs, research institutions, or natural history museums. These institutions have framed how we encounter and understand nature, acting as gatekeepers. I became interested in the power science holds over nature and the role of institutions in shaping that relationship, and art is almost never the main way one will try to understand nature.
        By naming it an “Institute,” I aimed to mirror the authority and structure of scientific organizations, but through art. I wanted to offer an alternative way to understand nature—one that doesn’t solely rely on science as the primary lens. This kind of “Zoology” often takes a seemingly objective stance on nature. How can we be critical of something that seems so factual? I’m trying to make it a little bit messy to challenge the assumption that zoology or science is entirely neutral in its relationship with nature.
        Is it confusing?

Yutong    

No, it’s not confusing. I find it rather interesting because you created this fictional identity for your space. Even though you reference science, the way you approach it is quite speculative. I think it’s intentional for you to confuse people, and that’s probably part of the goal at first too.

Robert    

Yeah. When I first started, about 20 years ago, there was this symposium called the Institute of Critical Animal Studies. It may not be around anymore. I thought the name was quite funny, so I mimicked it—pretending to be an institute doing strange critical experiments with nature, or with zoologists.

Yindi    

You also started this kind of research quite early, before the term “Anthropocene” became widely discussed in the art field, around 2010. It’s fascinating how, even back then, you were already exploring the relationship between humans and animals, as well as themes of nature, history, and collections.

Robert    

People often say I started exploring this relationship early, but I don’t think I was ahead of my time. The literature I read had long acknowledged environmental issues and our problematic relationship with nature—this awareness dates back to World War II or even earlier.
        Colonial sources often hinted at the limits of exploiting natural resources, so the idea wasn’t new. Perhaps social media has made these concerns more visible now, but I didn’t feel very isolated when I started. Exhibitions and catalogs addressed these issues. It may be more prominent today, but the conversation has always been there.

Yutong    

How would you describe your relationship with the ICZ? Did you create this identity to replace yourself as the author of your work, or to help you do what you wanted to do with art?

Robert    

I find it easier to talk about my work under that framework of the Institute, rather than through a personal artist website. After I created the website, I began producing projects under its name, and it slowly expanded. I don’t foreground the ICZ as much now, but I still use it to publish books. I often appear on the site as a photographer collaborating with the Institute.

Yutong    

If we go to the Institute website, the first thing we see is this image. What is it?

Robert    

Haha that was just random. I thought it looked like STOP, or Hi.

Yutong    

But it’s a monkey’s hand, not a human’s.

Robert    

Monkeys can say hi too, no?

Yutong    

Haha yes. Your website looks pretty legit as an Institute.

Robert    

But Institutions’ websites don’t look like this anymore these days. They have a certain corporate look.

Yutong    

Yeah, I agree. This feels like an Institute from the last century.

Robert    

All the sections mirror the original website of the Institute of Critical Animal Studies—I copied its structure but changed it all into my own text.

Yutong    

Can you walk us through this fictional history you wrote? I was so confused when I first read it.

Robert    

It is based on a museum in Japan. When I first started, the Internet was different. It wasn’t as connected—no Twitter or Instagram—and everything on the Internet had a certain credibility to it. It was a time when we were not so well-versed in fake news.
        That was why there was this strong storytelling element, because I was using it to tell a historical fiction about an institute that comes from Japan, and it’s strange. 
        I created a fictional institute with a seemingly detailed history—admissions, research, the usual. But if you actually read through the site, none of it tells you what the institute really does. Which is probably the same for almost all museums and institutions these days. You don't really know what is happening inside. 
        So Mission is a kind of arbitrary project. I started the Museum section because I used to collect and photograph things related to nature: things from natural history museums, keychains, animal traps, souvenirs. I grouped them into fictional collections. It was a way of creating my own archive—one that feels real but reveals nothing certain.

Yindi    

Do you really have these collections listed on ICZ’s website? 

Robert    

I do. All souvenirs that I found in the flea markets in Singapore or when I bought them for my travels.

Yutong    

So basically, what you are doing here is that you are cataloging your own collection, and using a way that the modern museum system uses as a classification.
        What was your intention?

Robert    

To pretend to be a real museum with real things. And because I felt like when you look at the natural history specimens, they don’t have any cultural relevance.

Yutong    

What do you mean by that?

Robert    

I felt like these items were made as souvenirs or made to remember a place that has some natural or cultural history element in it.

Yindi    

I’m curious how your research interest in nature and human relationships came about at the beginning. 

Robert    

I was trained in photography, so a lot of my research and projects are carried out photographically. I would like to go to any place where nature is put on a stage, such as the Natural History Museum, gardens, zoos, and circuses. And I like to use my camera to observe. So there was a lot of visual study and research on the ground.
        But I’ve always been interested in these spaces since I was a child, and whenever I’d travel. It was in the more recent years that after I got invited to do exhibitions and residency overseas to do site-specific projects, I met other people and scientists, and I have developed new ways of working. But this always has to do with human-nature stories everywhere.

Yutong    

I think I read it somewhere that when growing up, your dad took you to see lots of animals, and that influenced you a lot.

Robert    

Yeah. He likes going to the zoo and going fishing. He is a gardener. He had a lot of plants in the house and he also kept a lot of fish. And he is always watching documentaries on TV. I guess I was subconsciously influenced by my dad, but also growing up in Singapore on a tropical island. Nature is everywhere.

Yutong    

It’s very lush.

Robert    

It’s green everywhere. Birds and insects are everywhere as well. I think due to Singapore’s tropical climate, you can really feel a pulse of life that is nonhuman around you. When you pay attention to all these things, you then realize how quickly the landscape changes and develops, and how there are always new stories. So I think simply growing up on a tropical island that is very modern or very urbanized also has an effect on you.

Yutong    

Now you are a parent, do you take your son to zoos or gardens? How do you want him to develop his relationship with nature?

Robert    

Yeah, actually, it’s very tough being a parent today. 
        During the pandemic, when there was a lockdown and really nothing I could do, I was spending a lot of time with my son in the house. And then he started to look out the window and that was when he saw all the small little things that I never saw at all. Like someone flying a kite or like a wild boar, which I made a work out of it. Then I realized that all these things were there, but I was never aware until he pointed them out to me. 
        That was also when I realized that there are a lot of things I cannot control whenever I’m in nature, and just like him—he is a human of his own. So I can only be there to assist him in whatever way he wants and what he is going to become. Same with the forest that I go to, often there is no control as well. You just have to be there, if the forest chooses to show you something or reveal something, or you finally understand something, this may take time or have completely to do with luck.
        So I learned to be patient and a bit more relaxed. Because it’s not a project where I can set up some goals that I can cover. There is no check box or history. You just really have to go in to try to understand a new language each time. Or you may not understand when you see it once, but after maybe two years, you suddenly realize “ah this means this and this means that.” 

Yindi    

That’s beautiful. I wonder what has changed since you started the so-called Institute, in the way that your experience has affected your view.

Robert    

I guess mainly because I am changing as a person and as an artist, as well as the way I observe and think about nature has become more personal and firsthand rather than based on facts observed by other people or stories that occurred elsewhere. I try to find stories I can encounter or witness personally and that I can be involved with, that I can understand somehow and try to get some depth as well. 
        I have been given the privilege and more opportunities to go into the field and often with my scientist friend, who is also my childhood friend, an ecologist. Most of my work is done with close consolidation. His name is Dr. Young Ding Lee, and he works in Bird Life International as a habitat consultant for wetland habitat conservation. He knows a lot, and he’s quite reflective about his position as a scientist. A lot of my work is very influenced by my conversations with him.

Yindi    

That was something I was curious about as I saw the Institute’s website, there is a section called Collections, and you posted a letter from a scientist, is that the person you just mentioned?

Robert    

Oh, that’s not him. That’s some fiction I made up. Because this is in chronological order, a lot of the earlier ones are kind of created in fiction. Up to a certain point you can see that when I started to be heavily involved in space or site. Then the fiction becomes kind of more ambiguous.

Yutong    

When we saw each other in New York, you mentioned that early on you had an actual, physical space for the Institute, right? What kind of projects did you do with that space?

Robert    

It was my studio, and I organized one artist residency under ICZ. Artists would write in, and most of the time I couldn’t support them. But during that period, one artist was here, and I thought, maybe we can try.
        It was extremely hard—I was just one artist, and I didn’t have much resources to run this thing. But we did it. She wanted to do a workshop, so she collaborated with another organization that was my neighbor. It all happened quite organically.
        I don’t run official residencies or open calls. These were just people who reached out asking if they could be in touch or do something. I always told them, I’m just one person, I can’t really offer support. That’s all.

Yindi    

The Institute is about zoologists and in recent years I see your practice has been leaning more towards botany. I wonder if you think our understanding of zoology and botany are kind of interlinked.

Robert    

I think people are less excited about botany than zoology. Because plants are just very static. They move at such slow speeds. When you talk about non-human species, I guess, one would think about animals first before plants, and we just don’t treat plants as equal as an individual being. Like a tree, for example, you wouldn’t try to have a personal relationship with it.
        That’s not what we do. I’m kind of interested in where we start to give trees a different perspective.

Yindi    

I feel it might also be because humans are animals. So we are more empathetic to other animals.

Robert    

We are more empathetic to certain animals that are more charismatic like pandas or lions or tigers but not fish. We set different tiers for different species, and we don’t treat them all equally. But I guess the work here is to discuss how we start to see everything as equal, and we are not superior in the system. I think if you want a radical change or radical thinking, this will be the first step.

Yindi    

I wonder if you see your work as a form of activism or art.

Robert    

Activism with art, I guess.

Yutong    

Another question I had was—across all your work, including ICZ—what do you think about the relationship between scientific evidence and aesthetics?

Robert    

That is both highly subjective, and always shaped by certain structures or contexts, so we should be careful when we are reading any scientific conclusion or simply anything that they are seeing.
       Science can be as subjective as any artwork. That’s why I believe there’s no absolute, objective truth—it just doesn’t exist. And when it comes to nature, or stories about nature, they’re always from a human perspective. Too often, that makes nature feel flat, empty. But I think aesthetics can help—maybe it can tune the experience a bit, so there’s no flattening of our experience of nature.

©countercurrent 2025