A Re-enchantment

When I first heard that a friend of a friend, Anja, was researching Magic, I was entranced. This was December last year, when I decided to take a sabbatical and finally commit time in 2026 to clear my overstuffed storage room and to embark on the self-study of non-work things that make my soul sing. This included research, spirituality, Tarot as a tool for self-knowledge, and in general, consciously being a better human being.

I met Anja at one of the dinner parties at L&A’s house. There were five of us: myself and Anja and her partner G, and then another couple, S&C, invited to enjoy a spread of Korean food. L&A are a magnetic husband and wife duo and all the couples I’ve met through them have demonstrated such an inspiring dynamic. As a solo duck, I enjoy hanging out with couples. It feels healing. They've helped expand what long-term loving partnerships can look like in my future.

That evening I focused my energies on getting to know Anja and G, since I had met S&C before. When I learned that Anja was an artist and researcher and that her focus was on spirituality and magic in Singapore, I couldn’t contain my excitement. I made many weird squealing noises as I expressed my awe and wonder. “Me! I’m your audience! Tell me more.” It was our very first time meeting. We barely knew each other. I can easily tell when the person I am interacting with is uncomfortable with my enthusiasm, but bless her, Anja, let me ooh, ah and, fawn as much as I pleased. She mentioned that she had a lecture performance coming up in 2026, and I insisted, practically begging her to let me know when it would happen. “Please. I’ll be there.”

It was a promise I made that I was able to keep. Our mutual friend, L, sent me a link to the event in February, and I registered immediately. I often wonder about spirituality in our hyper-digital yet lonely-seeming timeline and I felt a deep kinship with Anja after reading the first few lines of the event write-up. It read:

"What connects us in today’s digital world? In what ways can art, spirituality and digitality create meaning? Is it possible to use digital devices to engage with spiritual questions, nature, our bodies and other beings?"

The day of the lecture performance arrived in the middle of March, the week of Spring Equinox. It was a packed day, but I remember so much of it because I felt the interconnectivity of things. I had an Oscars viewing party with my film-nerd friends in the morning at L's house. Because I was taught to always bring a gift whenever visiting another's home, I had poured rock salt from this giant tub from Bali, into a small jar to gift to L. Salt is not only a pantry staple, but also often used for clearing and cleansing rituals. I thought this and it felt suitable with the Equinox coming up. We were in high spirits by the end of the viewing. I had brought stickers made by another artist friend, J to share with the film group and handed them out before we disbanded. J, whom I hadn't spoken to in a while, had been influential to my spiritual life and was the one who told me about Vipassana meditation. I synchronously had a package for him with me that day, which I would drop off at the post office. There was a palpable electricity in the air.

For the viewing, I had chosen to wear my Let the Right One In t-shirt, a merchandise made by one of the aforementioned film friends that referenced the Swedish romantic horror film, which I loved. Aware that I was stepping into a 'magical' space, I wanted to pay homage in my own ways to the supernatural and felt the t-shirt was appropriate. Instead of yoga pants, I changed into jeans and slipped into my bright yellow flats. I had thought about bringing Anja a gift—as is customary for artistic performances. The first thing that came to mind, was, salt. Anja and her husband were soon leaving Singapore for good so I caught myself and practiced restraint.

Thoughts on salt lingered while walking briskly from the bus stop towards the venue of the performance at the Arts College campus, when I was stopped by a smiling woman. She is light-haired with a pearly complexion. She complimented my shoes—remarking upon its color and brightness—she sounded American. She held out her hand and introduced herself as Sister H from the Church of Latter Day Saints. She and her fellow Sister were there to share about their church. I introduced myself, smiled, before abruptly excusing myself" Lovely to meet you. I'm sorry but I have to get going!” The timing of that interaction also felt note-worthy. A blessing, maybe?

I spotted people bunched in front of the entrance of the building. I couldn't make out any familiar faces among them and let a whole group register ahead of me. When it was my turn, I offered the man holding a clipboard my name. He scanned the registration list and informed me that I’ve registered twice. Of course I did. Mercury was in Retrograde and I wasn't going to taking any chances. I really wanted to be there that evening.

Once inside, I spotted Anja’s husband, G sitting at a table at the reception area, welcoming all and handing out broad leaves that were wet, along with an A5-sized printout of the event blurb. I said hello, sat with him, and helped to welcome guests. A man walked in and I felt a familiarity about him. When he introduced himself and though his name was unique, at that moment, I still couldn’t quite place where I might have met him. Later, I learned we had exchanged emails the previous year when I still worked at the venue space. We sat beside each other in the hall and chatted more after everything. The world and Singapore (and any city really), becomes so small and so connected, when our sub-cultural and niche groups overlap. I like that cozy feeling of connection.

There was an opening address by Anja's mentor, Yen Yen, before G rang a bell to call the audience's attention. We were led into a space with high ceilings. There were small LED tea candles placed along the perimeter of the room where the participants were guided to sit. The darkness added solemnity to the occasion, but I could not remember if there was music playing. I was so captivated by the moment and being there that I don't remember anything, but a resounding hush and stillness.

It was almost completely dark, except for the soft glow of a bluish spotlight shining in the middle of the room. A meter or so behind the spotlight, on the farthest side of the space, was a rectangular block that was made to appear like an altar, with different objects on them. On either side, were smaller blocks with silver bowls. I later learn that these bowls contained salt—yes, just like the gift I meant to offer Anja, but chose not to. There is something exhilarating about these moments when synchronicity shows up. You notice it. It feels special. It is whatever you pronounce it to be, but that it means something to you—is because you connected the dots. You chose to pay attention.

Anja finally glided in, donning a long shiny silken dress. She held a selfie stick with both hands, which had a mobile phone mounted at the very end of it. The flashlight function was turned on so there was a mesmerizing glow as she moved in the dark. The way she held it too, made it especially wand-like. She proceeded about the room slowly and deliberately, like a true sorceress-shamanic figure. She made her way to the perimeter where the audience sat, pausing in front of handpicked participants asking each: "Do you believe in magic? Do you feel powerful? Do you feel connected?—" I couldn't quite hear the other questions, but that was her entrance.

Hopeful that Anja will likely perform this work again in the future, or a version of it, I will summarize by saying that the "exercises of re-enchantment" we participated in that fateful evening required us to re-examine, re-imagine, recognize our shared connectivity to matter and the immaterial, including digital and non-digital things. The performance ended with a Q&A. I used to take it upon myself to ask at least one question at any Q&A. I studied in a local girls' school and grew up with reserved Singaporeans. No one ever dared to ask a question and the silence to me (as a creative spirit), had felt both oppressive but also an itch I needed to scratch. I have outgrown this somewhat egocentric impulse and only ask from a place of curiosity these days. Following a more intellectual question that someone else posed—I was compelled to ask Anja: "If you are comfortable to share with us, how has this project shaped your own spirituality?" Her response struck me. It sent goosebumps across and prickling through the hairs on my arms, which happens whenever I feel an alignment that is similar, but not the same as rational knowing. Spidey—or rather, Cat Sense is what I'll call it.

I will keep what she said to those of us who were in the room, not because what she said was private, but it personally held so much meaning how, when, and where she said it. Isn't that what 'magic' is? Instantly recognizable, but also unreplicable and personal? That evening did not merely act as a data point to my experience of magic in the mundane. It was an enthralling encounter with spirituality—a beacon to my beliefs, a spark igniting Spirit. I felt interconnection, intuition, and the immaterial throughout my day and all of that remain with me, many weeks later, in spite of Singapore's soul-crushing heat and humidity.

Her lecture performance felt like a much needed response to bring more among us who have begun to disembody and wander away from being wholly human, to return closer to the middle, so they are less detached and disengaged not only to themselves/their souls, but to the land, our ancestors, and all that is unseen—whether you call God, Allah, Yahweh, Universe or Spirit. Whatever your beliefs, aren't you tired of knowing? Isn't it a relief to wonder? To remain in possibility? Instead of our knee-jerk response to refuse and defend and deny—to feel a pause?

Every day we are invited to move with more intention in the mystery, but it's hard to see any magic with all the suffering happening around us in real-time. Add-on synthetic digital slop that we are inundated by when we do go online, and our survival mode gets activated, and everything feels hopeless and out-of-control. With awareness and mindfulness, we have options. Artists like Anja who research underrated subjects like spirituality, invite us to take a step back from the intensity and overwhelm.

You don't have to be woo to feel wooed by life. Put your digital devices away and dwell offline for a moment. Speak softly to a rock. Catch moonlight in a jar. Feel the sun charging you, your relatives and friends, the flowers and trees. Howl into the hollow of your body, and heck—cry, if you must. But, be here. Be with us in the magic.

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Anja Gebauer Negri's lecture performance, "Exercises of Re-Enchantment – Connecting Devices, Beings and Bodies" was held at Creative Cube on 16 March 2026.

Anja is a researcher, educator and visual artist from Germany working at the intersection of art, cultural mediation, and education. Her practice explores how artistic and educational processes can be shaped through intersectional, queer-feminist, and anti-discriminatory perspectives—especially in the context of digital culture.