June 19, 2025
KUALA LUMPUR – Artist Khabir Roslan takes a thoughtful, grounded approach to his creative medium – collecting household and kitchen waste, transforming it into compost, and using that living material in his art.
He has also transitioned from outdoor exhibitions to presenting his large-scale installations within a gallery setting.
Three of such works are now featured in his solo debut, Sukma: Megah, Tunduk (Soul: Greatness, Humility), currently on view at Wei-Ling Gallery in Kuala Lumpur through June 21.
Titled Tanoh Meupakat (The Soil’s Oath), Tanoh Meusoho (The Weiry Soil), and Tanoh Tuwah (Ancient Soil), Khabir’s towering, soil-stained scrolls extend from floor to ceiling, each anchored by a fragment of a boat’s hull – an element that grounds the exhibition both physically and thematically.
Their weathered surfaces and sheer scale lend the room a contemplative stillness.
These pieces are part of the 30-year-old artist’s debut exhibition, which features 11 works in total – six installations and five paintings.
According to Wei Ling Gallery founder Lim Wei Ling, Khabir showed promise right from the beginning of his journey with the gallery’s Incubator Programme in 2023, mentored by artist Yau Bee Ling.
“When we first met him three years ago, he had done some very interesting projects. We asked him more about the reasons behind why he had conceptualised them, he was able to clearly defend and articulate his thought process, not just the practical steps but also the conceptual thinking behind the work,” says Lim.
She also added how his unique use of organic materials had always been deeply tied to his message and identity as an artist.
From using red soil in Tanoh Meupakat to working with compost that takes three months to mature, and incorporating gauze and bandages into massive, ragged forms, Khabir’s work is both tactile and symbolic.
In a more conventional work, Gema Alam (Echo Of Nature) offers a visual and material meditation on the rhythms of existence. Using oil and compost on jute, Khabir combines lines and optical illusions to reflect on the porous boundaries between body, soil, and soul.
A patient process
Despite works being made from compost, there’s no unpleasant smell in the gallery. The point, Khabir explains, is to foster understanding: compost is not just fertiliser but a patient, intentional transformation shaped by human intent.
“The (exhibition) title reflects my ongoing exploration of time, decay, and impermanence,” says Khabir, who lives and works in a studio shophouse in Klang, Selangor.
“With compost, transformation happens slowly. It’s not unlike a spiritual journey.”
With an art school background, Khabir began with abstract oil painting during his time at UiTM in Shah Alam.
“Painting was how I first processed emotion and memory. Over time, I moved beyond the canvas, exploring texture and material through mixed media and installation. But that painter’s mindset – how to layer, balance, and feel – still shapes everything I do, even when working with soil or fabric.”
Khabir navigates the slow, organic timeline of decomposition alongside the pressing demands of exhibition deadlines with careful planning and an acceptance of unpredictability.
“It usually takes weeks to months to complete a piece,” he says. “Composting and stitching require patience – I have to let the materials breathe, shift, and settle in their own time. First, I prepare the compost until it’s ready, then I work on the bandages and paintings.”
He adds, “I’ve learned to respect that slow pace. It reminds me that not everything needs to be rushed. I manage deadlines by starting early and letting the process flow with the materials, not against them. There’s a kind of surrender in that, and it becomes part of the work’s meaning.”
Khabir’s installations themselves are impermanent. They can be displayed horizontally or vertically, wrapped around structures, or stitched into loops. Even storage conditions – humidity, temperature, airflow – can change how the work looks over time.
Kitchen and studio life
Change is a recurring theme for both Khabir and his art. Before pursuing art, he earned a diploma in culinary arts from UiTM.
As a chef, he began collecting kitchen scraps – food waste from prep work – and composting them with agricultural matter. The result: a dense but pliable material, rich in metaphor.
His introduction to permaculture came through a community farm in Sungai Buloh, where he discovered a composting system that mimics nature’s own regenerative cycles.
He still juggles two jobs to make ends meet – working in a kitchen by day (a flexible arrangement) and making art in the quiet hours of the night.
“I usually start my studio time around 4.30am or 5am, when everything is quiet and my mind is clear. I work for four to six hours before heading to my chef duties (at a restaurant in Bukit Bintang) – prepping, cooking, or managing orders,” says Khabir.
“The precision and rhythm of the kitchen spill over into my art; both require focus, care, and balance. Waking early lets me pour my energy into art before the day takes over. It’s tiring at times, but that ritual grounds me. On days off, I’m mostly in the studio – finishing a painting or stitching bandages – but I’ll step away when I feel stuck or overwhelmed,” he adds.
Evolving the process
“My (creative) process happens in two parts,” says Khabir. “First, I prepare the surfaces – bandages, gauze, thread. Then I collect compost and let it ‘cook’ and breathe. Both elements are healing: one for wounds, the other for soil. They act as evolving metaphors in the work.”
The difference is visible. From his earlier red-soil and bandage pieces – one (Solidariti Tanah Air – Homeland Solidarity) of which earned him the Most Promising Artist of the Year award in the UOB Painting of the Year competition in November 2020 – to today’s layered, complex installations, Khabir’s practice continues to deepen.
“That’s the ‘embodiment’ aspect,” he says.
“When you understand the source of your sustenance – food – and how to manage its waste, you see that what comes from us will also return to us.”
Throughout his work, hexagonal motifs reference Singgora roof tiles from traditional Malay buildings. Cut, rearranged, and stitched by hand, they resemble scars or tectonic shifts. Pigments mixed with soil and oil create rich, textured surfaces shaped by time and erosion.
In Gerak Geruh Sukma (Shifting Of The Subtle Body) and Dalam Jeriau Nafas (Within The Wailing Breath), Khabir explores the origins of life – from single-celled organisms to humanity’s global footprint.
“This is my way of visualising the human body at a microbiotic level. Compost is full of microbes, and just like our cells, we can’t fully control or predict how they’ll respond,” he says.
Layered with compost, the paintings echo the continuous cycle of inner cellular activity and the larger environmental systems we depend on.
“Even breathing involves cellular exchange. The same thing happens in Earth’s atmosphere – and humans have the power to influence that, for better or worse,” he concludes.
Khabir Roslan’s Sukma: Megah, Tunduk is on view at Wei-Ling Gallery, Kuala Lumpur, until June 21.