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.