In a bizarre twist at the National Gallery Singapore, parts of an art installation have mysteriously vanished – and it’s not due to natural decay. Dozens of eggplants from Singaporean artist Suzann Victor’s acclaimed piece Still Life have reportedly been stolen by overly enthusiastic visitors.
The gallery confirmed the thefts on 1 August, stating that the fruits – all carefully hand-painted to mimic real eggplants – had been disappearing despite clear signage warning the public not to touch the artwork. The installation, which lines a walkway outside the DBS Singapore Gallery Three, was created to spark reflection on patriarchy and performance in public spaces, reported by The Straits Times.
However, while the gallery is treating the matter seriously, Singapore netizens have been cracking jokes over the theft, with some cheekily suggesting that the missing brinjals may have been taken home “for other personal purposes.”
One viral comment read: “Wah, someone never get enough vitamin C or maybe they just wanted to test if the emoji works in real life.” Others joked that the eggplants might have ended up in someone’s stir-fry, or worse — as props for things “not safe for museums.”
Egg plant becomes someone’s toy
it appears some visitors may have had less-than-pure intentions when pocketing the hand-painted eggplants from Suzann Victor’s Still Life installation. Though the eggplants are intended to provoke thought on social structures and materiality, their unmistakable resemblance to a certain emoji has ignited more risqué theories online. Netizens wasted no time in speculating whether the stolen items were being used for reasons far more private than poetic.
Some cheeky Singaporeans have taken to social media to suggest that the purplish fruit, long associated with suggestive imagery in digital conversations, might have found its way into bedrooms rather than art collections. Comments like “Art? More like adult toy upgrade!” and “Someone confirm took home for… performance art of their own” have been making their rounds, blending humour with scandal. While intended as jokes, the speculation reflects the not-so-subtle connotation the eggplant emoji has acquired in modern pop culture, particularly in the context of sexual innuendo.
It’s not far-fetched to imagine curious or bold individuals misappropriating the fruit for adult experimentation, especially in a time when novelty and shock factor dominate social media content. The tactile nature of the eggplants – glossy, rounded, and phallic in form – adds a layer of plausibility to the idea. Whether as a prank, a personal indulgence, or even a misguided attempt at recreating internet memes in real life, the eggplant theft may be less about art appreciation and more about satisfying other urges.
While most people might dismiss these cheeky theories as harmless banter, the underlying issue speaks to how certain objects in art – especially those with strong visual associations – can trigger unintended responses from the public. The transformation of a thought-provoking installation into the butt of adult jokes may not have been part of Suzann Victor’s vision, but it certainly reflects the complicated intersection of art, culture, and the internet’s ever-horny imagination. For now, though, the mystery of the missing brinjals continues — somewhere out there, they may be serving a role far less gallery-appropriate.