A home, a museum, a legacy: The Intan preserves a Peranakan love story

Alvin Yapp doesn’t just collect Peranakan artefacts; he built a living, breathing museum around them. Inside Singapore’s smallest museum, he’s keeping history alive, one story at a time.

intan
Photo: Angela Guo
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Step into The Intan, and you’re not just stepping into a museum — you’re stepping into Alvin Yapp’s world. It’s a home, a sanctuary, and a living archive of Peranakan culture, one that has become a cornerstone of heritage preservation in Singapore.

“I never set out to start a museum,” Yapp says, a smile in his voice as he leads guests through the space. “This was just my personal collection. It started small, but it grew into something much bigger than myself over time.”

Nestled in a quiet Joo Chiat estate, The Intan — meaning rose-cut diamond in Malay — has become a cultural icon, even making its way into Singapore Airlines’ globally recognised inflight safety video. But beyond its accolades, The Intan is Yapp’s lifelong labour of love.

This passion project intertwines his childhood fascination with Peranakan artefacts, his professional expertise in corporate communications, and his vision to keep heritage alive.

A collector’s first love: How it all began

Yapp’s love affair with Peranakan culture began as a child, though he admits, “I probably didn’t even know what Peranakan meant at the time. I was just drawn to the colours, the details, the craftsmanship.”

His first artefact? A simple enamel tiffin carrier. “I found it in an old shop in Katong when I was a teenager. It was painted in pink and blue, with delicate floral motifs. I didn’t know why, but I had to have it.”

That tiffin carrier became the first of many. “I think collecting is like falling in love,” he muses. “You don’t always know why something speaks to you, but it does. And once you start, it’s hard to stop.”

His collection grew steadily, and soon, his home began to resemble a time capsule of the past. “One day, my mother looked around and asked, ‘Are you going to live in an antique shop?’” he laughs. “That’s when I realised, maybe this wasn’t just a personal hobby anymore.”

Turning a home into a museum

The transition from collector to museum curator wasn’t overnight. “I never woke up one morning and said, ‘Okay, I’m opening a museum today.’ It was gradual. Friends started asking if they could bring guests over. Then schools reached out, then corporate groups. And before I knew it, The Intan had a life of its own.”

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Photo: The Intan

The Intan isn’t just a museum for Yapp but also his actual home. “People always ask me, ‘How do you live here?’” he chuckles. “But for me, this isn’t a space for display — it’s a space for living. That’s what makes it different.”

Unlike traditional museums, which can sometimes feel detached, The Intan offers an intimate experience. Guests don’t just observe artefacts behind glass; they sit in antique furniture, sip tea from old porcelain cups, and hear Yapp narrate the stories behind each piece.

“I always say, you can Google history, but you can’t Google feelings. That’s what The Intan is about — letting people feel Peranakan culture, not just learn about it.”

Treasured finds

Every piece in The Intan has a story. Some were found through careful hunting, while others came through serendipity.

“One of my most cherished artefacts is a wedding bed,” Yapp said, running a hand over the intricately carved wood. “It’s over a hundred years old, and the details — peonies for prosperity, phoenixes for femininity — are stunning. Imagine the generations of couples who have begun their lives together on this very bed.”

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Photo: The Intan

Not all artefacts came easily. He recalls a nerve-wracking experience in Malacca, trying to negotiate for a rare Peranakan spittoon. “The seller had no idea what it was — he thought it was just a planter! I had to convince him it was a piece of history, and in the end, he gave it to me at a bargain. But therein lies the fun in finding lost stories and giving them new life.”

Some acquisitions have been more emotional. “An elderly lady once called me and said, ‘I’m the last Peranakan in my family. I have no one to pass my heirlooms to, and I don’t want them to be thrown away.’”

She invited Yapp over and entrusted him with her family’s treasures. “That moment struck me. It wasn’t just about collecting artefacts — it was about preserving people’s memories, their legacies. That’s when I realised The Intan wasn’t just mine. It belonged to the community.”

From corporate to cultural storytelling

Despite his deep passion for heritage, Yapp’s professional career is firmly rooted in corporate affairs. As the head of corporate affairs at BusAds, an outdoor advertising company started by his father, he oversees branding, marketing, and public relations.

“People think advertising and heritage are worlds apart, but they’re actually very similar,” he says. “Both are about storytelling. Whether it’s a brand or a culture, you must make people care.”

intan
Photo: Angela Guo

Before BusAds, Yapp worked as a station manager at Singapore Airlines, managing international operations. “That job shaped the way I see heritage,” he reflects. “It taught me how to engage with different cultures and bridge perspectives. And that’s what I do with The Intan — I bridge the past with the present, heritage with modern life.”

Despite The Intan’s recognition, Yapp remains focused on its future. “Heritage isn’t about looking back; it’s about moving forward. If we don’t adapt, we become irrelevant.”

He’s exploring ways to bring The Intan into the digital space, from virtual tours to collaborations with contemporary artists. “I want to show that Peranakan culture isn’t just something old. It’s alive. It’s evolving.”

intan
Photo: Angela Guo

Still, for all the digital innovations, Yapp believes nothing replaces human connection. “At the end of the day, The Intan is a home. And a home is where stories are shared, where people gather. That’s what I want it to be: A place where heritage is felt, not just seen.”

For Yapp, The Intan is more than a collection of artefacts — it’s a love letter to a culture, a responsibility to keep its stories alive. “People ask me, ‘Why do you do this?’” he says with a grin. “And I tell them because these stories matter. Because culture isn’t just history, it’s who we are.”

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