It is rather cliché, and perhaps a little boring, that most of my Artist's Pick articles begin with the words, "I have known..."
Somehow, I find myself returning to the same opening.
Maybe because every artist I choose to write about has crossed my path long before this interview ever took place.
The same can be said about Aimman.
I have known Aimman for quite some time. From his graduation exhibition at UiTM Seri Iskandar, to his first solo exhibition, and up until today, I have watched his practice grow from one body of work to another.
I've seen LEGO-inspired paintings.
I even collected one.
Toy assemblages.
Colourful canvases.
And now, installations that feel almost cinematic.
Yet, looking back, I don't think his practice has changed as much as people might think.
The colours certainly have.
I still remember some of Aimman's earlier works being almost entirely black and white. Today, vibrant colours have become almost synonymous with his practice.
If you've ever met Aimman, you'll know he is cheerful, approachable and full of energy.
Slowly, the colours caught up with the person behind the paintings.
When I asked him about his current works, he spoke about experimenting with round canvases and installation formats, including his work exhibited in In Between Worlds: Four Emerging Voices in Contemporary Art at G13 Gallery.
What caught my attention was not the format.
It was where those ideas came from.
Childhood comics filled with sea creatures.
Glow-in-the-dark space stickers.
Fragments of childhood that many people would probably leave behind.
For Aimman, they became the foundation of a universe.
A red moon.
Astronaut-like characters.
Hotels.
Capsule forests.
Game centres.
Onsens.
Reading his response, I found myself revisiting something I wrote almost ten years ago.
Back then, I wrote the accompanying essay for Aimman's first solo exhibition, Imaginarium.
I titled it Playing As Work…
I still remember him telling me that "playing with toys is a serious business."
Looking back, I don't think that statement has changed.
If anything, his recent works prove it even more.
The toys may no longer occupy the canvas in the same way.
But the sense of play remains at the heart of his practice.
Perhaps I misunderstood that sentence back then.
Playing was never the opposite of work.
For Aimman, it has always been the work itself.
That became even clearer when I asked what had been lingering in his mind lately.
His answer was simple.
He wanted his work to remain playful.
He never wants the creative process to become repetitive or predictable.
At one point, he compared making art to building with LEGO.
I found that comparison surprisingly fitting.
For many people, LEGO is about following instructions until the final piece is complete.
For Aimman, the excitement begins when the instructions end.
It is about experimenting.
Rearranging.
Discovering new possibilities.
His ideas, too, come from many different places.
Anime.
Manga.
K-pop.
Popular culture.
Folklore.
Heritage.
Family memories.
At first glance, they seem unrelated.
But I don't think Aimman sees them that way.
To him, they are simply different ways of telling stories.
That can be seen in works such as The 32nd Silence, exhibited in Bridging Generations: Old School x New Rules at Galeri PETRONAS.
The work began through his interest in batik, folklore and family memory, transforming them into a contemporary visual language.
Looking at his practice, I have always found it interesting that people often search for hidden meanings within his works.
Aimman himself admitted that many viewers tend to overanalyse his paintings.
They search for symbols.
They search for explanations.
But perhaps not every artwork asks to be solved.
Some are meant to be understood.
Others are meant to be experienced.
Maybe Aimman's works exist somewhere between the two.
They invite curiosity first.
Understanding comes later.
Near the end of our conversation, I asked him what younger artists often overlook.
His answer was immediate.
Discipline.
Not style.
Not originality.
Discipline.
Treating art as a profession.
Staying organised.
Attending exhibitions.
Meeting people.
Building genuine relationships within the art community.
It reminded me that behind Aimman's colourful and imaginative worlds is an artist who approaches his practice with remarkable consistency.
The paintings may appear playful.
The practice is anything but.
Looking back at Aimman's journey, I don't think he has been searching for a new identity as an artist.
He has simply been expanding the same universe.
The astronauts may be new.
The installations may be larger.
The colours may have become brighter.
But the curiosity that first drew me to his work all those years ago is still very much there.
Somehow, I think it always will be.
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