DREI FRAGEN with Shagun Singh

Artist Shagun Singh shares her artistic wisdom.

Each Wednesday, I ask a different artist the same three questions.

This week's featured guest is one whom I find a huge inspiration through her publication, The Science of Art.

1. What first sparked your interest in creating art?

I didn't come to art through the traditional fine arts path. My background is in architecture, which gave me a deep understanding of how space shapes experience—how form, light, and material can guide how we move, gather, or even feel. But over time, I found myself asking questions that architecture alone couldn't answer.

I started to wonder: Who is this space really for? Who gets to feel safe or seen in public? That curiosity led me toward user-centered design, where I learned to listen more closely—not just to data, but to people. I began to understand cities not just as physical systems, but as emotional landscapes. And I realized that what I really wanted to do was use space as a way to connect people to each other—and to themselves.

That's when I began making art. For me, creating installations became a way to reclaim overlooked or harsh environments and turn them into something more generous—spaces where people feel invited, included, even cared for. I use light, movement, and storytelling to create moments of visibility, especially for those who are often left out of the urban narrative.

My work sits at the intersection of architecture, public art, and civic engagement. Whether I'm working in a hospital, under a highway, or in a forgotten alleyway, I'm always thinking about how to soften the built environment—and how to make space for wonder, memory, and belonging. That's really what drives me: helping people feel more connected to the places they move through every day.

2. What are your regrets?

I regret not building a more stable and sustainable foundation before I threw myself fully into this work. I had momentum, projects coming in, and a strong sense of purpose—but I didn't have the structures in place to support that growth. I underpriced my work, said yes too often, and didn't know how to pace myself. At the time, I thought I was being generous or scrappy, but really, I was overextending. And eventually, that caught up with me.

I burned out. Hard. And in the process, I burned a few relationships and friendships too. That's something I carry with me. I didn't always know how to ask for help or how to say "this is too much." I wish I had been more intentional—not just in what I was making, but in how I was making it.

At one point, I made the decision to step away entirely. I stopped doing the kind of work I had built my name on and changed course. That shift was necessary, but also painful. Looking back, I see how different things could have been if I had been more deliberate about protecting my time, my relationships, and my energy.

It's one of the biggest lessons I've learned: creativity needs care structures, not just inspiration.

3. What wisdom would you offer to someone just starting out in their art career, or to anyone exploring art for the first time at any stage of life?

'd say: build strong foundations early. Not just in your craft, but in your life—financially, emotionally, logistically—so you're prepared for the moments when everything is flowing and for the stretches when nothing is. The art world moves in cycles. Sometimes work comes in all at once, and other times, it's quiet. Having structure helps you weather both.

Also, stick it out. Give yourself at least five years before making any big judgments. Keep iterating, refining, learning. Troy wasn't built in a day—and neither is a sustainable, fulfilling art practice. You're playing a long game, so think in arcs. Don't overextend yourself, protect your time and energy—but at the same time, take calculated risks and be generous when you can.

One thing that's helped me is thinking about where I want to be in five years. Because the truth is, that's probably where you'll be in fifteen—unless you find ways to triple your effort or reduce the friction around you. That doesn't mean working yourself into the ground—it means working smart. Be intentional. Make art that's true to you. Get it out into the world in whatever ways you can. Care for yourself along the way.

And here's something small but powerful: leave yourself a note every day about where you left off—what you were working on, what you were thinking. That way, the next day, you're not starting from scratch. You're picking up a thread. It's a reminder that this is all connected and that you're building something much bigger over time.

Art by Shagun Singh.

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Check out

Shagun Singh

via Substack, here’s one of her posts (Which has loads more gems in it):

How David Graff Built an Art Career by Working with 8 Galleries (Not Just One)

If you'd like to explore more Drei Fragen interviews, please click the link. This actually will be the last interview, for now, while I focus on Projekt Rattloch (I know, I said it last week, but I had to share Shagun’s wisdom!)

…or if you’d rather. Please share this post with a friend.

Footnote: Before you throw your toys out of the pram, these words are inspired by the words and works of Dubuffet, interspersed with real quotes.