Silence

Warm is the day
in my palm

Green is the light
in my lap

I wish I could tell you
that I love you

in colour
in heat

Like the daylight
tells me so
everyday.

(for z.)

Manifest!

Wanting:

FRANCESCO CLEMENTE
Silence, 2001-2002
Watercolor on paper
(113.7 x 112.4 cm)

But feeling:

Inside, 2001-2002
Watercolor on paper
(113 x 114.3 cm)

These beautiful works are from Francesco Clemente's 2002 exhibition of watercolors, The Book of the Sea at Gagosian Gallery, NY. Images from Gagosian Gallery.

I've just realized there are so many posts about the sea lately! Doubtless an indication Betta is firmly planted back in the raging bosom of the city.

Wave blinds

Over the weekend I watched the new Miyazaki film Ponyo On The Cliff by The Sea. Comprehension of the plot was rather stunted due to what I can only deem 'creative' subtitling. That's what you get for supporting movie piracy, Betta!

I need to watch it again, but two things stuck in my mind: One, it contains the most remarkable depiction of the sea I have ever seen on film, whether in animation or cinema. Sequences of violent waves during a raging storm were breathtaking. I can't find any screenshots of the storm online, and the only image I found of the water itself is this one, when the waves are rushing up a cliff on a calm day. I love how the waves have eyes! It conveys so perfectly that feeling of standing on the edge of a rock as a child, when the ocean reaches out it's fingers to pull you into it.


Two, the opening credits were utterly charming. Can't find a decent image of that either, except this printed handkerchief on ebay!


I've been mulling over what I want to make for this year's Art for Grabs, an art bazaar organized by Central Market Annexe Gallery in the middle of the year. I'm working on a jewelry collection, but I think I want to do that at more leisurely pace. So I was sitting in my room, and the evening sun was filtering through the light cotton blinds I have up. I thought how great it would be to have a looong wall filled with cotton blinds hung in a row, printed/dyed with an oceanscape of waves. It would be like a huge mural, only you could choose which part of it you wanted to take home with you, to hang on your wall or window. You could pick separate ones, or you could take a few in a row. And the waves would be all manner of grey, blue, green, brown, white. The blinds would be stitched together from found fabric, old bedsheets, etc....

Mmm.

Gotta go

Chong Kim Chiew, Untitled 12, 2004, Acrylic on canvas (28 x 33cm). A lovely little painting that slipped through my grasp in Valentine Willie Fine Art's Cabinet show late last year. But I bought the work of the artist who bought this work, and...uh, more on that another time. Sorry... brain farts.

At any given time... I have this feeling in me. It's only a matter of to what sort of degree. (Thanks to G. who sent the poem over)

Mostly, I believe that words are a veil... a skin over essentially the same longing, the same desires - freedom; to live at peace with the world, with other people, and with oneself:

I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by,
And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking,
And a grey mist on the sea's face and a grey dawn breaking.

I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.

I must go down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,
To the gull's way and the whale's way where the wind's like a whetted knife;
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover,
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick's over.

- John Masefield

Housecleaning

Mom: *sudden, hysterical hoot of laughter downtairs*
Betta: WTF?
Mom: *can barely speak for the laughter*: this... hahahha... it's. It's a box of old Yee Sang!! *choked laughter* from LAST year!! Look!! *Holds up box of fully wrapped 'Premium Gold Yee Sang pack'*
Betta: O_o Keep it away from me.

(Yee Sang is a traditional Chinese salad dish reserved specially for lunar new year. The family gets together and everyone mixes the ingredients communally with their chopsticks. It includes dressings, crispy fried things, shredded vegetables and raw fish. That's why a YEAR old box of Yee Sang would be very gross.)

Quick notes on my next show

Annette Messager: 'Story of Dresses'

Are you thinking: WTF?! She just finished a show! TWO of them, in fact...

Hold on to yer' panties. I am planning a show two or three years down the line. This time it's going to be art made slow-food style. Yes, that's right, grow the grain which makes the rice which makes the noodles which... you get the idea.

Working title: Mother.

This is NOT: a show about my mother

...includes her though.

Video, drawings, tapestries, collages.

Track down my maternal grandmother before she dies.

This is about: nationality, finding roots, individuality, women, cutting ties, paternalism, power... and freedom.

Reading: Anais nin, Jose Saramago, Pramoedya Ananta Toer (I find him alot easier to read in Bahasa than Goenawan Mohammed. GM sounds beautiful in English, but the syntax in Bahasa is too sophisticated for my grasp of the language).

Looking at: Annette Messager (particularly the series 'Story of Dresses'), Sophie Calle, Vong Phaophanit.

...there are some things you can't learn from books, movies or music. You have to find them out for yourself, through experience, thinking and meditation. This will be a show made from life, not books. Books will only be the guide.

New fishbowl?

There is a beautiful park a short drive from where I live. I like to take a walk there, or if I've had one too many cookies that week, a run. Two weeks ago, on just such an occasion, I espied a house for rent along the row facing the park. Idle musing (wonder what it's like to live there) turned into vague considerations (wonder how much the rent is) morphed into mild obsession (hmm, I'm driving past the 5th time this week and the For Rent sign is STILL there) culminated in a spontaneous phone call to view the place yesterday.

And, well... it was such a pretty afternoon. I stood there looking out the front door: blown by the breeze, touched by the sun, the trees were a million types of green, their leaves the moving scales of a shimmering fish. A feeling of happiness and relaxation trickled into me like a quiet stream...

The house itself was modest, a lovely underachiever. Single story with cream walls, small rooms. It's a blank canvas, which suited fine.

Some things (like ice cream flavors) you wait and mull over, some (like love) you don't. So dear reader, I asked: how much? and coughed up a temporary deposit. The owner wants to wait a couple more days before they decide. If the stars align, I will have myself a new fishbowl! Shortly, I'll be canvasing for a housemate to swim around with. So watch this space...

Meanwhile, I'm sure you'll indulge me in a little daydreaming:

This is how pinboards should be. I love how they lean so casually against the wall. It's like a child's 'special' corner.

Goodbye forever BILLY bookcases from IKEA. Give me a motley crew of crates instead!

I often aspire to clean lines or a strongly designed space, but let's be honest, this is more like who I really am. Nothing matches, but everything is obviously much-loved.

The bathroom of the house above. It's a dream! This is the bathroom translation of the view outside the house!

All images from theselby.com

Introducing Biggie

FURTHER UPDATE (Tues, Jan 13): I lost Biggie 2 days ago. Poor fellow was suffering and we all thought it best to let him go peacefully. At last we got to the bottom of what has been ailing him ever since he emerged from the jungle: an old injury in the spinal cord, which steadily worsened, putting pressure all along his spine and nervous system. All this while we thought him so serene, hardly moving, always sitting in this hunched up position. I called him my 'Buddha cat'. And then when we got to the city I thought he was depressed because he wouldn't eat or move. But it was only because he was hurting... poor cat. I miss the little soul terribly. I had been planning our life together for at least the next few years. Ah Biggie, it was too short. Rest in peace for awhile, then be reborn and come back to me.

UPDATE: In an unexpected turn of events, Biggie is currently at the vet, hooked up to an IV drip and lingers perhaps at death's very door itself. Kind thoughts and prayers are solicited from the universe.

The trickle of posts has slowed to a drip, but that's because I have been attending to a sick cat for the better part of 3 weeks. My dear Biggie came out of the hills of Balik Pulau and I carted him home in a laundry basket to the big city. He's not been a well cat, however. It hurts the heart because I'm sure he'd be hit with all the lady cats in the neighbourhood. He's handsome, stoic, sensitive and decent. This is a little introduction to my furry ball of joy. I'll start a Biggie-related series of posts soon, with pitchers and other kitty goodness.