Seasonal ink

Are you happy?

Sit in a public space. Hold up a placard in the local language with the question: 'Are you happy?' written on it. Below that, have a number scale of 1 - 10. Anyone may come up to you and circle their degree of happiness. Scores are added up and announced at the end of the day.

(for Malaysia - I still believe)


Variations:
Are you happy... with your government?
Are you happy... with your life?
Are you happy... with your love?


Self-reminders:
Less statements. More bridges, more bridges, more bridges. Make art, not boundaries...

Melbourne

Where's the sea?!

Smaller

Unfinished business

Familiar territory

Changed forever. My spectacular fiction, 3 years in the making, has collided with reality - a pathetic shattering.

Good to close some circles. But hard work.

Unfinished

From here
I learn what I'll never know
on your shores.
I learn to
love you
without bitterness
easily,
like spring
like the wind that speaks to the surfaces of the sea
I discover ways to
be in two places at once
whole in spirit,
utterly resolved.

(for z.)

Notes to self: future work

1. Sign language

People are given scripts or dialogue in different languages. They sign these scripts to each other.


2. Mother/Trail

Setting: park
Mum performs her Tai Chi routine. After a few minutes, I join in behind her and attempt to follow. (*note: possibly attached to each other by loose lengths of string/thread)


3. Dancers/Metronome

Setting: an open square in the city.
All dancers wear headphones hooked up to music. One half is hooked up to the same set, the other half is hooked up to a different set. They dance. The general audience hears no music, only the hard breathing and shuffling of feet. Audience may join in at any time by picking up available headphones.


4. Offerings I

Over a period of a week, give money to each any every busker/street performer you see. Take a picture of them.


5. Offerings II

Over a period of a year, give money or food to each and every beggar/homeless person you meet. Create monthly accounts and chart locations on a map.


6. Offerings III

In a city, take a picture of every image of a ship/sea vessel that you come across. At each site leave an offering of an image of the sea.


7. Code flags

Create a code for the unspoken prompts you find in your own community. Make flags out of silk. Carry out a dialogue from two flagpoles at a far distance to one another by hoisting the signals you have made.

Growing obsession...

{from www.sailorjerry.com}

You know what, I feel the beginnings of it. The slow dawning. The constantly recurring thoughts. Repeated random Googling of the subject. Searching for books about it on Amazon.com. At first it was pretty benign, but today, I know for sure. How? It is because I caught myself musing on ways to incorporate it into future artwork. I hope and pray that it's only because I'm slightly stressed getting ready for a show.

And the obsession is?

tattoos.

I hear the inward groaning of my nearest and dearest. I don't mean to be like this! It's not my fault. I can't control stuff like this. But yes, you're right to be alarmed. Be afraid, be very afraid.

Frustration

It is alarming how video editing can adversely affect your health. A few hours in, the collection of trash starts to build up around your console (laptop) - beer bottles, candy wrappers, scraps of paper with timeframes written on them, a pile of cherry pits. Nicotine cravings are so strong as to induce lightheadedness, followed by extreme (although short-lived, thanks be) feelings of sexual frustration. All that sitting makes you feel like your ass is being flattened into that oh-so-hideous mom-jeans shape.

This is the last leggggggg. After this I am going out to have wild abandoned debauched activity with random people.

Fears

Tomorrow I'll be doing a public performance - 'How To Talk to Strangers' - for the first time.

Self-reminders for a jittery performance virgin:

1. It is easier to gain forgiveness than permission (in case I get stopped by cops)

2. The potential for failure is an important aspect of performance art

3. This is an experiment with no planned outcome

4. There is no rehearsal

5. The fear of a situation is far worse than the situation itself

Wishes of good luck and prayers offered to pagan gods will be gratefully accepted.

PS. Buddha preserve me from

... making verbose posts on kakisein whilest intoxicated! Strength strength strength strength.

Durnken post

Even though 'Tattoo After Care' clearly states that one should 'stay away from sun, salt water, chlorine, saunas and spas for TWO weeks'... what are the odds that one attends an art openign within those forbidden two weeks in which there is an ARTIfiCIAL SAUNA as an installation??? Tell me! What are the odds? Could Betta resist taking part in said installation? Even though the fresh tattoo was itching and burning on her back, could she have denied the artist the pleasure of her presence in his constructed space? Especially as he was naked and wearing a prodigious prosthetic dong of immense proportions. Yes, she drank and drank. She sat in the sauna. She gave the artist a kiss. She hopes her tattoo survives the trauma. In any case she made it back home and is bloggin this ... to you. Hic. Gnight.

mthfuckers

x.

Fascinated by

...the smack badger.

It appears as Frankie Wilde's nemesis in It's All Gone Pete Tong. This isn't a great image. It actually wears a dirty pink apron and carries a tacky plastic glitter wand. It also clicks and squeals. Creepy as shit. Ranks right up there with all my other favorite doppelgangers - Cluracan's Wild Hart in The Sandman, Ged's Shadow in Wizard of Earthsea (the book, NOT the film, nor the animation), and Leggat in Conrad's The Secret Sharer.

*Smack badger says: get your cute but procrastinatin' ass back to work, sweetcheeks*

On being tattooed

First off, I will not say, it was not painful. It was painful. This experience, all 2 and a half hours of it, was exquisitely painful. So much so that one has the dreadful privilege of meditating upon the nature of pain; the subject of it, the very manifestation of it, evidenced in that moment of the buzzing machine, the knowledge that where the sound touches your skin, there will be pain.

All my prepared fortitude went flying out the window. The Buddhist chants that put me to sleep without fail, began in my mind clearly, but ended up a jumbled mess. Today I learned of my own pain threshold -- the pathetic level at which the body fails the mind, regardless of preparation! I'm humbled. I have a long way to go.

But I endured, dear reader! And I remember musing half-heartedly about all the difficulties I had been through; how, just like that very moment of physical pain, the time would pass, one would emerge refreshed and reborn, with a glorious artistic scar/outcome to show for it.

Tattoos are a dime a dozen. But your own is always special. I can only describe it as something as deep as the blood in your veins, which at a certain moment, crystallizes into the image you have prepared yourself for. And it appears on your skin! It's the outward manifestation of an inward resolution. It's entirely appropriate that one has to suffer a little for it.

Sort of exhausted, but can't wait to show you. It's so, so beautiful.

x,
betta.

Self diagnosis

11:12pm

Tea - 3 cups
Beer - 2 servings
Cigarette cravings - countless
Calming chat with empathetic friend - 1
Messages from crush - 2
Escapist costume drama film - 1
Uncharitable thoughts towards fellow human beans - 5
Rice quota - filled
Sex - none
Cigarettes - none...yet.
General dissatisfaction with self - ALARMINGLY HIGH

WTF. See you at the bottom of a liquor bottle. Baibai.

Listening to

...The Weepies.

'...and all this time
I felt just fine
I kept so many people
in my suitcase heart
I was glad to let the whole thing go
time was slipping by
I didn't know...'

'sometimes rain that's needed
falls
we float like two lovers
in a painting by chagall'

'... your life feels like the morning after
all year long.
And every day it starts again
you cannot tell if you're happy.
Keep trying again
Try harder
Maybe, maybe
this is not your year...'

'...does your heart echo like a hall
is any one there at all'

A big hug and nod of empathy to the love-lorn and heart-weary out there tonight.

Cam-whoration II

BERRY CRAZY ABOUT CHERRIES

Check out the loot. You don't wanna know how much these cost. I was having a bad day ok? I'm worth it.

Mfph. Mfppff. I fuckin' LOVE cherries.

Guess who has half a kilo of fruit in her belly? Cherrie Queen!


FEET

Moody bitch because of sore feet. Sore feet because of too much walking.


Holy swell-a-roony! Kaki gajah! Takpe! Frozen corn kernals to the rescue! Bonus: afterwards can use in nasi goreng.


SCULPTURE BY THE SEA

Betta the all-purpose fig leaf.

This sculpture looks like the baby of Cousin It and Queen Amidala.

Poor tree. Not only caged but swarmed by millions of hyperactive school kids. "What did I do to deserve this? I was just here all by my lonesome; growing, making oxygen. Then some conceptual artist decided to get smart on me".

Betta in her element.

SLUTS

Betta and slutcat who hangs out on the big stairs going up to Victoria St. Definition of slutcats: cats who hang out for random affection from anybody, anywhere. Not selective in who is allowed to rub their belly.



DICE VICE 2

This outcome can be arrived at by this equation: beer + pizza + dice + loonies

B. having a moment.

L.: Holy shit, I won!

NIGHT

Ghostly night shot with J. after mojitos and salsa dancing. At one point we were overcome with nationalism and started singing Negaraku. Aiyo. Nanti kena tangkap ISA.

Drunken post #godknowswhat

Was wined and dined by K. and R. tonight. OMG. Spoilt rotten. Drunk. Happy. Full in tummy and soul. Saw sculptures by the sea - AT NIGHT! The sky... a thousand pinpricks in a black velvet coat. Just... aaah. Monosyllabic. Imagine being in between two of the most generous souls in the known universe, hell bent on feeding, watering and entertaining you until you burst. Can die lar. Damn happy. Love everyone. Love everything. Hic. Gnight

Notes to self

Art as strategy

How to be in two places at once

How to...

Make opportunities, not just for me

How to tell a dirty sexist joke

A.'s friend: "You know why women can't park well? Because we've been told this means 20 centimeters" *pointing to the length of her middle finger

A.: "What's the other meaning of 'eternity'? It's the time between after you came and before she leaves"

How to sleep alone

Ever notice how old people walk?

Climate change

How to live more but with less

Journalism, my a$$

Re: mainstream Malaysian newspapers - I rather go out and buy toilet paper la, like that at least got use before throw away.

Calling all Anak Bangsa Malaysia

(AFP photo lifted from elizabethwong.wordpress.com)

(11 Nov) The morning after: YAY! Different reports carrying different numbers, but the reliable one seems to be 40,000 - 50,000 people: the biggest public demonstration in Malaysian history. Is this one going to be in Malaysia Guiness Book of Records? Hahaha. Congratulations to us all! OMG, so proud right now. ^_^ Ya, gomen mana nak letak muka....?


(10 Nov) UPDATE: This is the day. Full updates and coverage on:

www.harakahdaily.net
www.m2day.org
http://elizabethwong.wordpress.com/

Road blocks were set up all over the city since last night. The gathering has been declared 'illegal' by the government and police, and those who attend are being threatened with arrest and jail. If Dataran Merdeka is closed, the alternative rallying points are:

1. Sogo
2. Majid Negara
3. Majid Jamek
4. Pasar Seni

All the best! Will be praying and meditating from 3pm onwards for a safe and peaceful rally. You'll see my spirit there! >_< (9 Nov) UPDATE on the eve of gathering: My distant but most heartfelt prayers go with those who are marching tomorrow. May all Buddhas and Bodhisattvas bestow blessings and peace upon you; may you march without fear, anger, hatred or pride, but with happiness and compassion in your heart. Namo O Namo Amithaba Buddha. (7 Nov) FURTHER UPDATE: I think this rally is really important and it kills me more than you know that I can't attend, and I'm sorry, but... BAD aesthetics are BAD aesthetics. BERSIH has made a 'video' for the Nov 10 Gathering: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G4ycaduE_D4

On the scale of cheese, it's probably of the stinky blue veined variety. You have to watch it, but I will say this: it is set to Michael Jackson's 'Man In The Mirror'. Yes, all 5mins14secs of it. I mistrust and disagree with anyone who uses images gratuitously, as propaganda, to manipulate emotions and to further their own agenda under the guise of something else. After years of state-sponsored visual assault, I can't take it. I can't take the tacky over-statement and theatricalization of a movement that's so important and so powerful as this. Unless it's a spoof video. Is it a spoof? It could be. In which case it is ROTF LOL funny. I mean, it is THAT bad. And it features an endless run of images of 'important' people, such as Wan Azizah and Anwar Ibrahim (most recognizable). Fuck that shit. This is about the rakyat. No one else.

Perhaps hardly important in the scheme of things, but an unworthy exercise all the same.

(6 Nov) UPDATE: Damn this shit is serious. Yesterday BERSIH'S website was hacked to display a message that said the gathering was postponed. What a dirty, underhanded lil muthafuckin stunt! Ok, I just visited site, well shit, now the whole thing is offline. Whatever la. Everyone, let's go to this thing, jom, mari kita protes!
***NOTE: THE GATHERING IS NOT POSTPONED AND WILL TAKE PLACE ON 10 NOV, 3PM AS PLANNED.

This is a sticky post, will keep it at the top until Nov 10. I am there in spirit. Let's show them and ourselves that it is the people who have the power. Remember to wear yellow! Note: this is likely to be a huge gathering, their target is 100,000 people. In light of this you'll have to make the choice whether to attend. Go on! I would. Good luck! More information at BERSIH - Coalition for Clean and Fair Elections.

Light and Shadow

It is a strange indulgence to uncover past shadows in order to better appreciate the current light. Sometimes I get a dark, ugly look on my face thinking of the times which inspired this little ditty:

Legless

I know a man
Who keeps a cage
He's the pike of the lake
And doesn't age
I know a man
Who keeps his teeth
He's a shark in a cave
And doesn't leave
I know a man
Who waits his while
And he waits and he waits
With a smile
Now it doesn't do to worry
Because you know
When you're hungry
You'll go get some meat
And when you're legless
You'll just walk on borrowed feet
Now it wouldn't hurt to hurry
Because you know
When he's hungry
He'll come get some meat
And when he's legless
You should worry about your feet

(May 2006)

I thought love was unconditional

Oh Malaysia, oh tanahairku, I give us another 3 years. This is my pledge. If we haven't worked something out by then, I have to rethink my options. Maybe we were never meant to be together. I love you though. Do you love me? x.

Cam-whoration

BETTA'S ABODE

Somewhat heavy on the IKEA aesthetic, but the light and view trumps all.

Outside my window: Harry's famous pie shop, the sea, and a tree for privacy.

My working table artfully arranged to give impression of high productivity. Notice bottle of Nutrient Water, proven hangover cure and secret indication of continuous raucous nights.

...the remnants of debauchery. Notice money, dice, junkfood, a little cigarette bud plant.
Need I say more?
BETTA'S RESI-GENG

The lovely, and fully mad S.

The lovely and fully insane B.

Macaroon present from S. Possibly the world's most elegant confection.


BETTA'S OCEANS AND VARIOUS OBSESSIONS (GIVEN OPPORTUNITY TO GROW TO UNHEALTHY LEVELS)

Check out this crazy pool right by the sea. It fills up with water each time the waves come in. Enough to make one die with happiness. Shame on anyone who even remotely entertains the mere thought of a Tsunami joke. SHAME!

Requisite postcard shot. Taken from the top of a hill planted with big friendly trees.

The telescope at the observatory! It was in a big dome which was cranked open via a wheel mechanism. OMG OMG. Yes, I scared everyone - including the guide and the family with children - with my... shall we say, 'enthusiasm'. This was the best day of my life. I saw the sun! And Mars! And Jupiter!

Lord Nelson at the maritime museum. I stood silently before the figure and paid my respects. The handsome brute.

And lastly, I had this ship berthed right outside my window for the better part of two weeks. I would wake up and stare at it for ages. It is a baby version of The Endeavour. Sigh. I is a happy human bean.


...But I still miss home. I miss proper food. I eat a bagel everyday. I never thought I could be sick of blueberry bagels, but it can happen. Majulah mamak untuk negara. I miss beers with the BFF. I miss me doggies (now doggy), me mum and dad, me art scene, and a hundred little things. If anything would keep me here, it's the walking. What freedom, what luxury. Ok. I have to get back to video editing now, something about as exciting as Pak Lah's speeches. Then I can go out and play! Whee. x.

Betta!!

...Where's the pictures? Enough of your goddamned bellyaching. Post some cam-whoring already!

Okok... coming ok?

My residency project

How to Talk to Strangers – A strategy

Sit facing each other on two chairs. Listen to each other’s heartbeats through stethoscopes as you imagine the conversation you are having. Do not say a word, although you may find yourself smiling or frowning involuntarily. Make sure to maintain eye contact.

Sit back to back from each other on two chairs. Listen to each other’s heartbeats through stethoscopes as you imagine the conversation you are having. Do not say a word, although you may find yourself smiling or frowning involuntarily. Be sure to concentrate on the conversation.

This is a strategy proposed for any social, political or cultural situation. In a public setting, conversations between two strangers may be broadcast through speakers. But the important thing is that everyone listens.

Sharon Chin
Nov 2007
Sydney

The bridging of selves

Utterly inebriated, I passed out a few hours ago at the foot of God, exorcised of demons, a contented smile on my face. Possibly finding me a hindrance, God has nudged me with God's ineffable big toe and I'm wide awake, staring back at the face of the moon outside my window. The past has caught up with the present and the future is strolling along at a comfortable pace. It seems everything is holding hands with everything. I'm bound by some compulsion to draw the shape of this container, although I know this means disturbing the sweetness of the condition. It can't last long anyway, I might as well chase it with words.

"Never in action had I known the chilling satisfaction of words; never in words had I experienced the hot darkness of action" - Yukio Mishima

The rest of that quote comes back to me in snatches and it's a great quote; so sublime, but I know it ends with Death, and for Mishima, in Death.

I realize now that the night is so full and peaceful. We've never been great friends, because I sleep uneasily and am shamefully afraid of shadows. Right now it is really quite satisfying to tap into the dark; the glow of my screen has become the face of the moon; Oh Sharon, I mean Betta... I'm sure that analogy (simile? metaphor?) has never been used before...

This word: isthmus. Land bridge. It's a great word, one of my favorites. For so long, I've thought it the ideal condition. A place that is able to relate two land masses to each other is very special. It's just so cool! But I wonder now if souls or bodies are meant to remain in transit, or in my case, to revel in it. Isthmuses come and go with the tides. I begin to suspect that my fascination is a symptom of a certain malaise, one that is not life-affirming. I've yet to explore this further.

Mishima was searching for the unifying principle. From memory: "Floating ten thousand feet above the ground, the silver phallus of the fuselage glinted in naked sunlight..." The rest I can't say for certain. But he saw a great circle coiled around the earth, one that united man and woman, art and action.

The isthmus is my unifying principle and I know it is a false one. It's the position of one who wants to savour all the chaos of life, but only at a distance. Mishima's unifying principle was Death. He was right.

If I'm becoming unclear it's only because I don't know what I mean. And that's the worse condition to be writing in.

Good night.

High on life

Warning: anyone easily sickened please look away now.

I just feel so happy right now. My body feels like shit of course, I think I still have some alcohol swishing around inside me. Being here, I just get to be Betta. I get to meet people and talk to them as Betta who happens to make art in Kuala Lumpur, not Betta the Malaysian artist. Soon, I'm getting my tatt done, and the best part is that I'm so sure of what I want it to be. I've waited a long time for that certainty. It's finally here.

x and kisses.

Fall from grace

NEWER UPDATE: I started to do it and then I got distracted by the thought of avocado on toast with butter and cheese (that's three layers of fat on some carbs - mmmm). Hahahah. Facebook I have escaped your clutches once again.

UPDATE: I realize now it is actually because I am sexually frustrated.

I am weak. Weeeeeaak.

I woke up this morning and knew that I must join facebook.

I cannot say what it was that did it. It could have been all that drink-mixing last night (beer (1pm), martini (5pm), white wine (6 - 9pm), beer (9 - 10pm) REALLY BAD champagne (10pm onwards)) or it could have been the huge pie I ate (as well as smeared on my white top) after.

I am a broken woman.

See you on there, bitches! Hope you're happy now. Grrrowl. Purrrr.

Sacredness

Woke up with the spirit of contradiction depressingly strong in me this morning. The sun is shining outside, sparkling on the water, laughing at this indignant little Malaysian in her foreign, all-expenses paid studio, as she tries to soothe and tame that useless frustration and turn it into something useful.

The immediate source of my agitation is visual, as it so often is. Underneath probably gurgles something much more pathetic, like mild sexual frustration. But the immediate source, the immediate itch, is a picture of Malaysia's first man in space. There he hangs in his cockpit, a Jalur Gemilang on himself, a Jalur Gemilang hanging in the background, grinning like an idiot - the whole scene is an obscene insult to the great ineffability of the cosmos itself; the very last frontier not conquered by our tacky, shallow, pathetic Malaysia Boleh LIE is now reduced to another feather our cap. And henceforth whenever I (and later my and your children) think of space, it will be with less humility for our insignificance in the universe, and worse, far worse, is that we will be less curious about looking up. The sky has always been the one place I look to for the source of all magic and mystery, no matter what is happening on the ground. Putrajaya, the billboards, the Visit Malaysia 2007 ads - they have all been visual assaults. Now the vision of this spaceman, this space mascot, has invaded my sacred place of wonder. I, who floated on air for days after seeing an image of the sun through a telescope, laugh and cry at the man in space who performed his daily prayers facing earth or the Kiblat, who spinned a top and tossed "batu seremban' (five-stone game), who painted a batik motif and made a teh tarik.

WHAT A FUCKING WASTE.

Dice

At last! I write this, my first post on my new, pristine, perfect computer. It is unsullied and virginal. It feels like sleeping with someone else's wife - uncomfortable but immensely lovely. Well it came late enough! Problems with the shipment, problems with the tax, problems at every juncture.

In any case it is here. Warning: I'm writing this two bottles of champagne in. Fellow resident artist S. has had some wonderful news: she is heading to New York soon on a wing of opportunity. Naturally, we celebrated.

Yesterday night, three of us met D.G. at an opening, who not only pointed the way to some authenticated Malaysian-Asian Food but also invited us to his studio in Chinatown! What a space. He lays a new synthetic oriental style carpet on the floor each time he begins a new set of paintings - a ritual after my own heart. He is surrounded by his own art as well art from friends and colleagues, either bought from or bartered for.

But the best part is that he lured us into a new, sinfully addictive game: DICE. Yes, dear reader, let it be known that dice is a sailor's game - long ago banned on HMS Royal Navy ships, where the sound of them clinking together would mean a flogging of 50 strokes or more. One names their dice before the game and mine was... 'SNAKE EYES'! Hah. I knew you'd love it. Especially as I was the winner. I felt some remorse at squandering my good luck on a game (every person's store of good luck is finite) but it was the best fun I've had in years. When I see you next, I will teach you and you too shall be infected with the evil but oh-so-good dice vice. Perhaps it may even replace some unfortunate Facebook addictions...?

Oh, I can post pictures now! I'll do that tomorrow. You shall see the ships and the harbour and strange, incandescent quality of daylight here. Sleep now - tired, missing home and friends, but quite happy to be here...

Congratulations!

Sometimes you think of a big project, and then when you jump on it you realize how tough it's going to be. Most people jump off, or think smaller. Some freaky, very special sort of people grit their teeth and see it through and you get something like LAMU - Let Arts Move You! An art project with real movement and a seriously different audience.

Let Arts Move You (LAMU) art project brings together the artists, the public transport and the commuters on a visual art event taking place in Kuala Lumpur. It aims at presenting the dynamic and creative situation of urban life in KL, drawing the connections between the rapid city development and the artistic interventions.

http://www.blog.letartsmoveyou.com/

Visit the blog. Support support support!

Azure

This is a post to displace the melancholy one below, if anything else.

I finally went to Bondi Beach the other day with fellow resident artist B. Stepping off the bus we were greated by the most amazing blue azure sea I have ever seen. It was magnificent. The water from the shore to the farthest horizon looked like a sheet of silk dyed blue by God. And on the horizon line, a single oil tanker was cruising on the edge of the world where it meets the sky. Over excited, I dragged B. from one end of the beach to the other, skipping like a monkey. He humoured me, bless him.

In the two weeks since I have been here, now and again I feel a wholly gratuitous sense of happiness and independence. Soon I'll start making work again.

Fare thee well

...Sarah. (1994 - 2007)

UPDATE: Rest in peace, dog. You'll be missed. Thanks for everyone's kind thoughts.

Godzilla has written a far better tribute than I can.

My dog is not gone yet, but is fading, according to missives from back home. Distressed not to be there, but this is the way it is.

The Buddha teaches that death isn't the end and worldly attachments are the source of suffering. I try to practice but it is difficult.

Even though I appear indifferent and harsh to her, I really love my dog.

It's been a good life.

Selamat Hari Raya

May peace and goodwill be upon you! Wish I was there soaking up the atmosphere like an absorbent ketupat dipped in kuah. Instead I am eating sandwiches. Consider me there in spirit at all your respective buka rumahs, eating until I collapse in ecstacy. Screw the sports, economy, etc. Malaysia really is and always will be numero uno in the food game. All others can pack up and go home. This is my objective and considered view.

I'm reading Rumi. His words have captured my soul:

Come, come, whoever you are.
Wonderer, worshipper, lover of leaving.
It doesn't matter.
Ours is not a caravan of despair.
Come, even if you have broken your vow
a thousand times
Come, yet again, come, come.

-From Masnavi (The Teachings of Rumi) Book 1
Jalaludin Rumi (translated by E. M. Whinfield)

Message in a bottle

Landed a week ago on the shores surrounded by water. The air cold and dessicate, so my skin is shedding like a snake.

I live in a room with a paint-splattered cork floor. The view outside is of the harbour with the navy's battleships berthed there. Don't tell anyone but I sneakily smoke cigarettes by leaning outside the window.

I've walked more than I have in my entire life, I think. The other day I had blisters and thought maybe I was overdoing it but I have purchased some in-soles and these will allow me to trek even further.

I miss rice, yesterday some of us went in search of it and we found it! We had dinner together, that was nice.

My favorite thing is the Observatory at the top of the hill. A big fat man who looks like he can control the cosmic railways let me look into a very expensive telescope. I saw the sun, but the image was 8 minutes old - the time it took to reach the lens and into my eye. I also saw Jupiter and Mercury. As you can imagine I was thrilled beyond anything. Anything. On October 20 there is Astronomy Night at some far away location and I am going to go and be a nerd. Apparently there will be 20 telescopes there. I might burst with happiness.

The other day I went to the Maritime Museum and I looked at ships old and new. There were original anchors bigger than you can imagine, looking very much stranded on their platforms when they really belong at the bottom of the great ocean. There was a figure head of Lord Nelson, with his one eye and his one arm. I paid silent homage as I have wanted to do that for the longest time.

I bought maps to put on my wall.

I am missing home a little of course, but there so much here to see and do. On Wednesday a local will take me around to some openings.

No computer yet, which is terrible! Hopefully it comes soon and I'll post some pictures in the privacy of my own room.

For now, my abode is:

43 - 51, Cowper Wharf Road
Woolloomooloo
2011 NSW
Sydney
Australia

And my life-line is

+61410256858

Salty kisses,
Betta in Sydney

PS. I will not open facebook I will not open facebook I will not open facebook (according to everyone I know it's inevitable and resistance is futile)

Update on Sensors

Have just posted images to the site. It is now declared complete. Swim in and have a look. Better still, see the show before it comes down on 7 Oct!

http://bannedbooksandothermonsters.blogspot.com

Plugging "If Only"

Allow me to sing the praises of If Only - hopefully the first of many books by my comrade and colleague Pelukis Melukis, in whose blog I happily wander day in day out.

He did me the honour of having the book for sale at my exhibition opening last Friday. I'm happy to say I got a complimentary copy! But in typical P.M. humility he neglected to sign the inside.

What can I say? It's a beautiful book that feels like it's been crafted with some serious love and integrity. It is printed on recycled paper, which, besides being environmentally friendly, also makes the pages very organic with their off-white color and faded specks of past print. It's a book that's also an object.

In all, the collection of poems, prose and illustrations are quaint, melancholy, delicate and intimate. What I really admire is the range - the material doesn't repeat itself and nothing feels like 'filler'.

Everyone knows that I'm crazy about P.M.'s mad skillz in the drawing dept. He's adept at several styles, but personally I loosely categorize them into ones that are tightly controlled and those that are lighter and more expressive in gesture. The latter is what I'm in love with - they are gentle and fragile, most of them colored with soft washes of color and seem to have come out of my nicest dreams.

Me to someone at opening: you should meet P.M., he's the author of this here wonderful book.
Someone at opening: Oh, what's your book about?
Me and P.M. (after looking at each other for a few moments): It's about love.

Do look out for the book and get your copy! I believe MPH will be hosting some readings soon, so keep updated either here, or at P.M.'s blog.

I've got many personal favorites in the book, but pg24 and 25 are pretty special. From the drawing of his palm, I can see that me and P.M. have quite similar lines, especially the fact that both our Head lines hover above the Life line, not touching it - mark of a impetuous, sensitive nature. I leave you with the poem accompanying this drawing:

Palmistry

On my palm lies my fortune,
Etched along some
Furrowed lines,

The Heart, The Head
The Life, my Fate,
Would meet upon a single thread.

My reason for being is yet unknown,
Though temptations abound
And have pulled me to the farthest reaches.

There is only so much
That I can take with me on these narrow tracks
Before the sun sets,

And there is stillness once more.

Aftermath

There is a phenomenon in this particular profession known as Post-exhibition Blues. The day after the opening of Sensors I woke up with so bad an affliction that I until then I did not believe such a strange combination of relief, desolation and exhaustion could exist.

It was as though one had emerged from a personal battle unhappy and in pain, but not knowing the source or nature of the hurt.

Of course I am only now coming to terms with a private blow to the spirit caused by someone's recent departure. I have heard that when the body detects a foreign or harmful intrusion, it works quickly to contain/separate it in order to stop it from causing harm. In this case it seems that the mind is likewise capable of such self-preservation. At the time I scribbled in the margins of some drawing or other I was working on:

Leaving is like flying
Staying is like swimming.
Both conditions governed by a different gravity
than walking.
Walking: it's never enough.
But when you're not doing it
It's all you can remember
It's all you long to do --
To land.
Walking: it's what we were born to do
With our uncompromising,
unforgiving, two-part bodies
It's the best way to relate to nearness
The hardest way to judge distance
and learning to do it
isn't as easy as it seems.

I found that the moment my mind judged that it was free enough to confront things other than the exhibition, some deep, stored-away unhappiness came bubbling to the surface. It was quite shocking, especially when I expected to feel good with finishing what I had to do and having done it with reasonable success.

But! A visit to the hairdresser has made me feel (and look) a little more human. A visit to the physiotherapist, (who also dispenses such level-headed advice as: when you work long hours for a long time, your body's store of dopamine is depleted; also your spleen accumulates toxins and that's why you feel so bad) and a full, undisturbed night's sleep later - I feel back on track.

I've set up a blog for the show, which you'll find to your right. It's not finished yet though. I'll add images soon.

Thank you for everyone's kindness and support. I'm looking forward to debt repayment, to fun things, to begging the forgiveness of my two mutts who have been positively pining away for lack of attention and to my residency in Sydney.

Kisses,
B.

Sensors

Come for the opening, dear readers, and see how I applied those colour pencils!

FRIDAY, 21 Sept 2007, 8pm
The Annexe at Central Market, Kuala Lumpur

(I have to come off as serene and confident elsewhere, but here I'll admit that I am ripping my hair out. So much to do, will I ever manage to pull it off before the curtain comes down?)

A blog about the show will hopefully be up in the next week.

How do I love thee

...Derwent Watercolor Pencils!

All the joy of wetness with none of the pain!

Now I can 'paint' but actually all I do is color in shapes that I have drawn, like I used to do when I was 9! Then I go over them with my wet brush.

This is easy! (Um, if only I had like, another week)

My 72 set is worth every sen of that RMX00 I coughed up.

Love,
The Charlatan

Feh! The Back of My Hand

...to the National Art Gallery!

The jury is out on the newly renovated gallery - guilty. Guilty as charged: after millions of Ringgit in 'improvements', it is 'same-same but different'.

The place has been closed for 10 months and re-opens with as much fanfare as a bratty kid announcing a fart. There was an small feature in last week's Sunday Star with the decidedly unfestive heading: 'But where are the exhibitions?'

The article takes note of the 'improvements' with a barely concealed sense of dismay:

"Unusually for a purpose-built gallery, the flooring in all six sections is a shimmering carpet of glazed tiles. These not only distract from the art on the walls but also pose safety concerns."

"The renovations were urgently needed after a serious termite infestation of parquet flooring in at least two gallery spaces came to light, adding to other existing problems such as leaks – a malaise of many Malaysian public buildings of late! – and plumbing issues in the toilets.

Strangely, leaks were still observable as last minute touches were being put to the Malaysia@50 exhibition in Galeri 2A, though these were duly rectified. But for how long will the repairs hold? It’s unnerving to think of irreplaceable artworks being splattered with water or soaked."

Niamah!

Don't forget that the building is barely 9 years old.

You can almost hear the planning meeting with some official braying out 'yaaaaa, kita ... letak sensor kat tangga tu - nanti orang dekat je dia boleh jalan. Cam ni la baru world-class!'. How about 'yaaaaaa, kita... buat lebih galeri lagi. Kan ni Balai Seni Lukis Negara? Tada ruang? Habis tu kita gunakan pejabat-pejabat kakitangan je la! Ya, kita renovate, kita improve, buat paling best sekali!'

The rest of the article is almost too painful.

Whatever. I'm not going to grind my already well-ground teeth over this pathetic performance a moment longer than I already have. I sincerely believe that the Malaysian art scene has become stronger and more self-sufficient now that we realize that Balai is utterly incompetent. It has been MIA for close to a year - and you know what, it hasn't been missed. Galleries, collectors, artists, institutions and collectives have forged ahead, having shows left, right and center, and some damn good ones at that. I always intone that we get the government we deserve, but in this case, I maintain (with few reservations) that Balai doesn't deserve the artists the nation has. This Merdeka, it has embarrassed itself beyond redemption by its discreditable showing.

I officially declare Balai-bashing out-of-vogue. It just isn't worth the 2 seconds anymore. We are doing just fine without it.

(Ok, I get back to work now. *Mutter nutter*)

Update

Betta concedes defeat. After an agonizing, traumatic night, have abandoned watercolors (thank god bought them at half price) in favour of much more forgiving color pencils. To the painters out there, I salute thee. (Esp. Newty and S.Cargo) At least my drawing skills (indifferent at best) revived after a few practice rounds, so all is not lost, and I need only feel a partial charlatan. Then again I have seen some performance art that rivals any painting in terms of pure aesthetics and poetry. That warms my insecure little artist heart in the dead of night.

I remember a knowing a false, manipulative and revengeful person who, in contrast to their character, was able to draw and paint wonderfully. Needless to say I was rather enamoured and maintained the acquaintance long after it was clear that I was suffering from it. It is a particular weakness of mine to associate professional skill with personal quality. Happily, in some cases the two happen to coincide.

Giving

Merdeka eve - thoughts are out of order. Working steadily, but unhappily.

I want so many things; want to say so many things - about how I feel about my home, my self and my place in it.

But another poet has already said it, in lines I swear have been living in me like a spontaneously grown organ, so that they come floating up from memory, wholly unbidden:

'A bruise, blue in the muscle
you impinge upon me.
As bone hugs the ache home
So I'm vexed to love you'

...and:

'Threshed to excellence
I'll achieve you'

...also:

'Stack in me the unaccountable fire
Lay on me the iron leaf
but tenderly
Folded one hundred times and creased
I'll not crack'

This Merdeka, I'll try to want less, and give more.

May peace and goodwill be upon you! To those working - you're not alone. To do those holidaying - enjoy yourself, bitches - you deserve it.

Tangent

Today more than ever I wanted to do a thing that I have been planning possibly for years... you know, that idea that recurs at the most surprising moments - on the toilet, during a tepid conversation (I do generally try to listen attentively to anything anyone is saying to me, but I am only human afterall), window shopping in a mall and wishing idly you were elsewhere - the galapagos, or making love, or doing art - and, ... well, this sentence is being hyphenated into infinity, isn't it?

Anyway the thing I wanted to do is to map mine and other people's birthmarks. I envision large swathes of expensive creamy paper, the size of a person, filled with little brown dots. Or maybe they would be small and I would provide a scale, just like a real map. They would probably be called intimate constellations.

Maybe I will get to do this on residency in Australia...

Right now I am attempting to do something stupid called painting - not because painting is stupid, but because I am not a painter, and at this eleventh hour, am consulting Watercolors for Absolute Beginners (yes, it's true).

Argh. I have rarely been so frustrated.

Silly Betta.

Happy 50 Merdeka Malaysia!

NOTE: These images were from an email forward. The author seems to be blogger Nak Tak. There you can find the complete suite of Nak Tak posters, together with an exhortation to register as a voter (yes!) and to not vote for Barisan Nasional (who you vote is up to you).

Tonight

...is close to unbearable. Merely exhaustion. The calling up of old ghosts to feed the working fire.

"...And your otherness is perfect as my death.
Your otherness exhausts me,
like looking suddenly up from here
to impossible stars fading..."

Morning

Some switch in my internal clock has me up at 5am these days. It must be the anxiety. I don't mind, dawn and twilight - being transitions - are my favorite parts of the day. Standing outside in the silence, I can see Orion creep out just above the roofs of other houses; the other stars I don't know twinkle in the distance. I feel a deep and simple happiness that has nothing whatsoever to do with art, with worries about the future or the past, or Merdeka, or trials of the heart. I suppose it might be called a sort of heathen grace. Whatever it is, it imparts humility, a sense of perspective and calm - surely as good a start to the day as anything.

Versions

Hmm. Certainly prefer Gina Fairley's review of Selamat Datang ke Malaysia on Universes in Universe to the 'same-same but different' version that's been posted on Kakiseni. This one is much longer, and by turns apologetic and sharply pointed - inconsistent, IMHO. There was also a sobriety and professional distance in the Universes version that's sorely missing in this one, which is a bit self-pontificating:

'The only faux pas (and a pedantic one on my behalf) was using the derogatory term “cultural expo” to describe this contemporary survey. It was a serious, extremely professional presentation, right down to VWFA’s folders of support material on each artist. It had little to do with trade-show kitsch. Quiet the contrary; I am excited by this show as a collection of individual artists rather than an exposé of Malaysia Boleh. Maybe viewing it outside Malaysia allows one to engage with the work rather than the rhetoric?'

Why the difference in voice for different audiences/readers? (I.e. Universes = international audience, Kakiseni = Malaysian audience) They are not different essays - they are versions of each other as the new one has whole paragraphs lifted verbatim from the other. I confess to be puzzled and detect hints of a certain self-importance in the new version. It is also quite unbalanced, concentrating too much and too long on only a few works ('Pole Positions', Vincent's 'Run Malaysia Run' and Ise's lightboxes) without mentioning others - which she did in her other essay.

Maybe it's just me, but I smell a implicit wish to be slightly controversial and create 'comment' in the local scene for its own sake, something I personally don't appreciate.

The Great Merdeka Bake-off

BAKE-OFF #1
Selamat Datang ke Malaysia,
23 Aug - 15 Sept 2007, Valentine Willie Fine Art
OPENING: THIS WEDNESDAY, 22 AUG, 8PM - come for drinks and celebration!


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BAKE-OFF#2
50 Ways to Live in Malaysia
21 Aug - 30 Sept, Galeri Petronas
GRAND OPENING: MONDAY, 27 AUG, 5 - 7pm



This group exhibition of 50 Malaysian artists addressing the theme of 50 years of living in Malaysia gathers artworks made since 1957 by artists ranging from the pioneering modernists of the 60s to the emerging artists of today, with an emphasis on the works for their own sake and how they relate to the central theme. The exhibition paints a picture of modern Malaysia, inspired by sub-themes like the land, nature, society, communities, religion, politics, gender, architecture, leisure, food and historical events, both local and global, which have contributed to the way we think and feel as Malaysians.

Betta's exhortation: Since I have yet to learn how distasteful it is to blow one's own trumpet - you must go and see this! They requested a previous installation of mine ('Rise, rise, rise') to be in it, and I was quite unhappy at having to remake what I felt to be old (and stale) work - but after I finished installing, and then to see it in this well-curated exhibition, in that beautiful circular gallery, accompanied by works of far greater stature and quality - I am strangely moved, immensely humbled. It is a sentimental reaction to an admittedly rather sentimental show, and maybe that's why it feels special. For the longest time now, I haven't had that feeling that Malaysian art is important or meaningful in a big way - and walking around this exhibition gave me that oddly familiar tingle that I have been missing for so long. Remember to have a look and post me your comments! (Note that Galeri Petronas is closed on Mondays, chickies!) I'll put some images up when I get the chance.
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BAKE-OFF #3
Merdeka 50 - A Celebration of Malaysian Art
2 August 2007 - 16 September 2007
Islamic Arts Museum Malaysia (IAMM)



Perdana Leadership Foundation and Islamic Arts Museum Malaysia are proud to present "Merdeka 50 - A Celebration of Malaysian Art" - a spectacular assembly of sixty-seven Malaysian artists in commemoration of Malaysia's fiftieth year of Independence. Through their works of art in various media, these artists offer us their unique interpretation of "Merdeka" and their perspective of Malaysia's journey and progress as an independent nation.

Haven't seen this, but has a 'blockbuster' feel to it. Zedeck Siew writes his thoughts on the show (he seems somewhat underwhelmed, but tries to be generous) at Kakiseni.com. I will go, especially as I have a soft spot for the Islamic Arts Museum building.
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BAKE OFF#4
Bebas Lah - Malaysia @ 50
23 Aug - 9 Sept, The Annexe @ Central Market

'Lim Kit Siang', by Hishamuddin Rais
Image from kakiseni.com

Take a humourous look at our very earnest country, as four artists bebas (free) our minds by reimagining our favourite politicians, tourist attractions and social mores.

Curated by Valentine Willie, featuring the work of Liew Kung Yu, Eiffel Chong, Saiful Razman and Hishammudin Rais(!) Waitaminute - art can be funny? I will go, to see if they have got 'funny' right, instead of confusing 'humour' with 'cynical and nihilistic sense of irony'.
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BAKE-OFF#5
Ivan Lam: After all these years...
16 Aug - 12 Sept, Wei-Ling Gallery

I'll be the first to say Ivan Lam is personally one of my least favorite Malaysian painters, coming close behind Gan Siong King (I will note here that this is far from a critical assessment. This being my personal blog, I make strong distinctions between my personal tastes and more measured judgment based on art theory, art history and forcing my noodle-brain to actually do critical work, etc); and seeing an image of one the paintings in his latest show that is a sad appropriation of Damien Hirst's dot paintings fairly made me pant with apathy. But I have seen images of other the paintings and in spite of myself I am really intrigued, especially by this one:

'Heaven (Heaven Can't Wait)', 2007
Acrylic on canvas, 48" x 120"
Image from www.weiling-gallery.com

Like Ahmad Fuad Osman's work (also not in my personal tastes), the quality, freshness, and willingness to take a risk can't be denied. By the way, all the paintings are done with Nissan house paints. I will be going to see it, but really, was this sycophantic nonsense necessary when the Kakiseni.com editor put this show on the week's recommended list?: 'RECOMMENDED! Some paint Ivan Lam as an arrogant genius. Ivan Lam paints genius onto canvas. Isn't that what the art world lives for?' *Betta gags*

Also kudos to Wei-Ling Gallery for flying in the face of convention and not succumbing to Merdeka Madness.
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So much art. Feel glad my own show will miss this frenzy. But perhaps by then people will be too tired for anymore soul-searching and critical thinking. I will have to make fun the order of the day. (That's fine by me....)

One last thing, as far removed from Merdeka fever as a quiet cup of tea, so it is not considered a BAKE-OFF: Newty has finished her commissioned painting at last! It's quite gorgeous. Have at look at her latest post.

Betta ober n' out. It's headless chicken time, people....

Howl

Feeling some sort of down tonight - tiredness or restlessness might describe it, but not fully.

In my profile I write that everything I want my life to be is encapsulated in Miyazaki's films. I know Howl's Moving Castle didn't go down well with everyone (as opposed to the universally adored Spirited Away), but it's one of those things that (giving free rein to the extremity of self-indulgence) you feel has been made especially for you; that the person who made it was thinking of someone like you, or perhaps feeling a little like you, at the time. And that's an encouraging thought, especially if that person is someone like Hayao Miyazaki.

I've been listening to the soundtrack whilst working.

There is a home that is a ship, and it goes wherever you want it to. There's a young person who gets turned into an old lady, and you start to love that old lady so much you don't want her to change back! Which makes you realize you care far too much about appearances, and that people who love and respect you don't care about that at all. Oh, and there's a really cute, lanky magician. I named a pet fish after him, but sadly it did not live to see better days.

Somehow, there must be a way to make my inner world into the outer world that surrounds.

Am behind schedule, but you know.... whatever. Sometimes sleep is the best thing. I wish you an untroubled mind, sweet dreams of home and the morning of a better day.

My dream home, outer view...


...And inner view. (This pic is for Newty)