‘Flashpoint’ dives into the temperature of GE2025 political rallies—the noise, the heat, the restless undercurrent you can’t put into words. Each photographer is given full creative freedom to interpret the rallies in their own distinct style and capture the raw energy that slips past speeches and slogans.
Glin Gwee is a commercial photographer known for imbuing her work with emotion and thoughtful resonance. In this piece, she contrasts the high-energy spectacle of the People’s Action Party rally in the CBD with a dreamy, shoegaze-y approach.
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I could feel the energy straight away. There was this buzz—everyone was excited but also on edge from the way people stood, the way they listened.
The crowd was as large and diverse as expected, with a noticeable presence of both office professionals and those who had travelled specifically for the CBD rally.
I approached the rally with a kind of dreamcore sensibility, looking for those slightly surreal fragments that are normally unnoticed. I wanted to experiment with a different way of documenting a high-energy event and to lean into a slower, surreal, and atmospheric approach.
I was curious about what it would look like to capture intensity in a more abstract, intuitive way—not just through faces and movement, but through mood, light, and textures around me. Almost like stepping slightly sideways from reality, just enough to see familiar things in a different light.
I was actually listening to a lot of Beach House while editing to stay in that headspace—it helped me stay attuned to a slower, more atmospheric rhythm. Which was the complete opposite of what I experienced at the rally.
There’s just something incredibly powerful about watching someone command the attention of an entire crowd. I also felt that, ultimately, this was their moment. They were the ones stepping onto the stage, carrying the weight and expectations of the event, and it felt right to centre my images around the candidates.
At the same time, I wanted to weave in the textures of the environment—the energy of the audience, the atmosphere around the stage—because it’s all these details together that make the story whole.
I approached the photography almost as if capturing a hazy dream. In the political context, there is always an inherent uncertainty—we listen to promises, but the reality of their execution remains unseen.
I wanted to translate that ambiguity into my images: a sense of something powerful yet intangible, something just out of reach.
Like a dream that lingers long after you wake, vivid in feeling but elusive in form.
My favourite photo is definitely the one with SM Lee Hsien Loong with his eyes closed.
It’s a bit of a light-hearted moment—I was actually watching the panel even when the speakers were addressing the crowd, and I noticed he had his eyes closed for quite a while, until someone tapped him and offered him a drink.
You could tell he was physically exhausted from everything that had been happening.
It was a small, very human moment. Something a little unexpected from our former Prime Minister at a rally, and I found it very endearing.
One moment that really stood out was when I saw someone waving their cap and swinging it around in the air, full of energy and emotion. You could tell they were fully in the moment, just really feeling whatever was being said on stage.
It wasn’t planned or performative, just a genuine show of support.
But what stood out to me most was the sense of collective presence.
Even among strangers, there was an unspoken energy—a quiet recognition that we’re all navigating this moment together.
It felt like a snapshot of a country and its people searching for new ways to be heard, to connect, to shape what comes next and where we’re headed.
