super secret center

Uncertainty

2010-04-30T14:17:00.003+08:00

The world's got too much of me in it to have much left over for here now, but I still like coming to this secret garden once in a while. Check on the moss, pluck at some weeds.

I have a new tattoo, it's three leaves on my right shoulder. It looks like an aquatint etching, ghostly and light. I love it alot. Simon from Borneo Ink was the man. Like the first time, getting tattooed was an entirely positive experience. Afterwards, you feel slightly light-headed from the pain, but so elated. It's as if all your different selves are hugging to each other fiercely, having come to a consensus about choosing a common totem, a seal, a star that guides the boat.

I live and work in my little house, attended at all times by uncertainty, incompleteness, and imperfection. This seems alright. I'm learning how to conduct them like an orchestra, although to be sure sometimes they play me! It seems that everyday I measure new strengths only by the recognition of my own weaknesses... turning lead into gold, isn't that what the alchemists did?

Magicians are a deceitful lot, don't trust them. They never remember where they bury their nuts until the last minute.

Kingdom

2009-12-21T15:48:00.006+08:00

Why do we do what we do?

On one hand art is work, on the other, it beckons truth. I can put more of myself into art now than I've ever done (that's why I post here so seldom). I still need this space though, as a kind of bowl - a scrying bowl where I occasionally pour out a mess and try to divine the meaning of what I feel.

It's been a year of art trips abroad. I'm heavy and used up at the same time. I'm full - with portents, experiences, loves, achievements, failures and lessons. I'm empty - of energy, time, space, and peace. My house is a beautiful house, I've been cleaning it and filling it with all the things I love. But I want most of all to sit by a river and listen to the sound of it flowing. I want the wisdom of that timeless music. And I want to watch the sunset over the sea, dan persembahan bintang-bintang mewujudkan diri di cakerawala - performances devoid of stages, contexts, negotiations and people... with their needs, their pull, requests, affections, desires...

I remember a few lines from Goenawan Mohammed:

Akulah Adam dengan mulut yang sepi
Putra Surgawi
yang damai, terlalu damai
ketika bumi padaku melambai

I am Adam of no word
Heaven's child
at peace, too much at peace
when the earth beckons me

... this world - a kingdom. I watch it so that I can understand all over again, why we do what we do.

Just a perfect day

2009-12-15T16:05:00.002+08:00

I was chatting with M.S. and he asked me what I was going to do on my birthday. I said 'maybe clean my house', to which he replied 'NO! No work!'. Which is quite sensible advice.

So this is what I will do:

In the morning, go for a walk in the park

Come home and put on a favorite dress

Look for a story book in the bookshop

Go and read it in a cafe where the coffee is too expensive and the vegetables are organic

Go for a massage

Come home and bathe with a new soap

Put on another favorite dress

Go for dinner with my lover

Drink wine

Sleep a great sleep

Myanmar II

2009-12-12T19:57:00.004+08:00

We sat on the same steps of the same YMCA building, looking out the same dusty windows at the same blue sky and run-down shack. The same Burmese flag was hanging there limply, just like it did that day last year. We sat and talked about it, smoking together. Nothing had changed, except for the addition of a pile of bricks.

I had said, see you again. And there we were.

You, me, and the pile of bricks.

Tunnel and Light

2009-11-02T15:51:00.003+08:00

M.D. sent me some poems at last. I've been bugging him, and most recently coaxed him with a photo of a volcano. Where is he now? Not in Burma... but dreaming of it, aren't you, dear friend.

I'm gonna remember you today, and put you here, in my happy place.

Taking up too large an area of seeing and not seeing

I put some patches of white clouds in the sky that I have painted blue

I move to the right a little bit and press my thumb down

On the buildings and bridges barring my view

I slide my finger along the river which is flowing out or into my pores

I make myself a cigarette and I make sure it has the same stale smell of yesterday

I make myself some smoke to fill in my lungs till I can’t speak

And words flow back into my bloodstream

I make myself a tunnel and light a lamp at the end of it

No, I make myself a light and at the end of it, a tunnel

That stretches to the arctic pole where night is not known

I make myself a wall, put it before me and scratch on it

With my fingertips which melt and drip down the wall

The wall is relatively larger and higher than

Every single one I’ve ever leaned my body against

by M.D.

The child in me

2009-10-24T22:34:00.003+08:00

I had to put this photo up here. K. took this during our walk around a hotspring town. A little boy (girl?) appeared out of nowhere near a shrine. We kind of had a moment without language. We are actually petting a black cat together here. The cat is behind the child. We wandered on for a little bit and then the child tugged my arm and showed me a huge bee's nest hanging under a roof above us.

I love this picture. Actually the experience with the kid was a little strange, creepy even. It was like meeting a spectre of the child in me - who doesn't know if its a boy or girl, doesn't like talking and plays very solemnly. For a few moments the very universe was reduced to the both of us, the sunshine, the cat and the green grass - outside of this there was nothing, no one. We were playing, being alive, and being really serious about it, in a way that only children can do.

Penuh

2009-10-14T14:42:00.003+08:00

Arrived home from 3 weeks in Japan. So full...

Hanging out with N.H.K, K.S., M.R. and S.W. was the ultimate. I've spent 5 years as a penggiat seni in Malaysia but never got to really know these cool people and talented artists.

N.H.K. teaching me find the Kiblat in our Tokyo hotel room.

Making up art on the spot... out of nothing, out of everything.

Dragging 20kgs all over the streets of Tokyo.

Battling the flu with sho-ju mixed in hot water.

Imbibing vast quantities of the freshest food, sake, sho-ju and beer.

Drinking bourbon and singing Let It Be accompanied by a live band in Fukuoka. My last night in Japan.

Slipping into a hot spring under the stars. Alone and naked.

In Tokyo, exhausted... finding out that at last, at last, ARTERI got the grant I had been hoping for, dreaming of. A moment of triumph that will never be erased, whatever the future outcome.

Feeling grateful for another day in this beautiful life, upon hearing about the earthquake in Indonesia and elsewhere.

Meeting S.'s mother.

Being with H.C. in Fukuoka, talking about art, life, culture, how people change and planning strategies for ARTERI.

Standing in Fukuoka Asian Art Museum and feeling bigger than the institution.

Spending time alone, realizing how solitude is as essential to my well-being as fresh food and air. A beautiful moment of self-knowledge whilst watching clouds, people and insects roll by.

Z. running up to me at the airport. Being together again with my best friend and lover.

Oh, I don't know

2009-09-14T22:15:00.004+08:00

1. Good news
Sometimes, after months of waiting, you get a few minutes of good news. It keeps you going. I live for those few minutes. I had some this morning. Most people don't know that I have huge visions in my head, that today or next year is only in preparation for all that I want to achieve in my life. This secrecy.. most of it is just a pathological need for privacy. The rest can be accounted for by oh, I don't know, it's easier to get things done quietly.

2. Friends
One of the things I miss most about Sapporo is J. She really made me laugh. I like... love her so much because she never took my aloofness personally. She just... got it. Generosity combined with understanding, I think. Most people don't know that I have so much going on in my head that frequent retreats are necessary to prevent sensory and emotional overload from surroundings and people (especially people).

3. Lovers
Sometimes you can be very much in love with someone, yet not enjoy their company completely. This makes for interesting, but disastrous, affairs. The sex is good, usually - it feels like you're doing it on the edge of a cliff. But when you love someone you also love spending time with... it's like you're a child again. You go and meet them in the playground at 5pm and you try to will those last moments before the sun sets to last forever. Couple more turns on the monkey bars with so-and-so, oh please mum, please. Sunset is time to part, go home, have dinner, do your homework, and prepare for school the next day. Nothing is more soul-crushing than saying good-bye to your best friend at the park on a Sunday evening.

4. Living
I live my own life, for myself.

Thoughts on sex

2009-08-24T21:24:00.002+08:00

I started writing this with the lights on, then I got up and turned them off, scotch in hand.

I like the way skin feels in the dark, how it looks - the hills glow and the valleys sink into liquid shadow. Your sense of smell sharpens. Your voice gets deeper and more languid, mine does anyway.

I'm thinking about... how one can be degenerate, yet fine, at the same time. By fine, I mean, not 'how are you, I'm fine'; fine like, bone china, steel, a panther, silk, fine wine, whiskey, a fine man, an excellent woman. Fine to do with suppleness - of character and body, limbs, the mind. A supple mind makes the hair on my body stand on end. When I say something filthy to man who's buying me a drink at some random bar - I watch for that catch in his eye, then the slow smile, and I know I'm going to have a great time. It doesn't happen so often.

I like being on the edge of danger, and I'm fine with that. As I get older, I know my limits better, and I get to linger out there on the edge for longer periods of time, with none of the usual guilt and self-loathing. I really love men, how they make feel, the way they react to things - it's exciting and inspiring. What I've learned in my short years on this earth is that they're more apt to disappoint than to hurt you. If you accept this, a much better time is had by all. I love women too, they're so soft, so intelligent and powerful and compassionate, sometimes vicious in a way not many men are, and they don't let go easily. One thing about women is, they're terribly loyal. As I write this, different men and women I know spring to mind, they get mixed up with each other, until I can't tell who was masculine and feminine... the traits blur into each other. Writing this is a way of appreciating them all over again - the best and the worst.

In short, I fall hard for people who have great character and who love sex, and in whom these two things are always circling each other, like insects around a flame.

Mmm. This post has put me in a good mood.

Mmmm. Take me back.

2009-08-18T12:49:00.005+08:00

Contemplating Toyohira river the day before leaving Sapporo. It was insanely sunny. Gorgeous, liquid. I was in the height of health! So happy to remember.

Recipe for happy room

2009-08-09T13:05:00.002+08:00

1 Telescope
Large windows with view of green outside
Maps on wall
Rack of clothes
Walking shoes
Bookshelves made of old crates
Oriental rug
Futon
A few die-hard plants
Favorite art
Bicycle with basket
Raincoat
Sewing machine
Model ships
Record player
Hula hoops
Karaoke machine
Blackboard
The right cat (manly, stoic, dignified cat with handsome face)
Candles stuck in wine bottles

Sunday morning happy post

2009-08-09T10:06:00.003+08:00

Sunday morning, waking up early with, if I was a man, the equivalent of a raging hard-on. Rolled around in bed for a delicious amount of time, replaying scenes with people I've slept with and inventing some with people I'd like to.

I have the house all to myself and I'm happy to be alone. Well, relatively alone - the cat is in the background amusing itself with the carpet. We had a moment last night after I came home slightly drunk. He had been moody and hadn't eaten all day. We did a little dance together in the living room at midnight, after which he suddenly started chowing down on his kibble like it was tuna sashimi. I suppose as creatures we all need some love and dancing to stimulate the appetite.

My mind is working very well, purring away like a high-grade instrument, taking pleasure and feeling anger at the right things, in right amounts.

I am really pleased with my wardrobe, I love all my clothes and shoes. They protect me and seem to set me up for adventure.

I've been listening to music that speaks to the man in me. Johnny Cash, Elvis and The Legendary Tigerman... a one-man blues band. Check this video out:

The man in me... I remember someone saying that people who are a mix of masculine and feminine are the most fun and interesting to hang out with, because they stimulate you on so many levels. Yes, me and Z. have the best time together... he is my favorite. Teehee.

Hey! I'm feeling generous. Here are some pics of Japan for you...

1. In my Sapporo apartment, contemplating the possibility of going out with a blue wig.

2. Rainbow in the Tokyo sky from the weekly apartment where me and J. stayed for a week.

3. Drinking until the sun came out... had to run outside in the freezing air to greet and salute it.

4. Dressed in yukata at the opening party of our Open Studio. I've never been so happy at an opening.

Transformations

2009-07-14T21:59:00.005+08:00

Should this become drunken post? I'm not really though...

3 days before departure from Sapporo to Tokyo and then back home.

Fully changed by experience here.

Trying to fend off overwhelming feeling of not being ready, not wanting to leave... with incantations, singing off key, self-affirmations.

Not just the place, but being in love with the person that I am here. I don't want to forget.

But there is alot of work to be done back home. Seeds planted need to be tended to. I know where I belong, where I'm needed. But I'm scared.

This place was good for me because I know the way things can and should be. The line where life and art meet is blurred, fluid. I am grateful.

Tomorrow never waits... even if you're not ready, it comes. Sun rises and you just deal.

Flashes

2009-07-05T23:58:00.003+08:00

Waking up so happy, I almost disgust myself.

Making significant dents in my vegetarianism by downing freshly caught sea urchin in a dark bar.

Too many vodkas, wines, and beers; too many days in a row.

Stumbling over rudimentary Japanese as I try to impress someone I like.

Grilled shiitake.

Impromptu drinking parties outside the apartment.

Riding my bicycle in a short dress, feeling cold air on my legs.

Discovering I can cook, write in Malay, and do anything I want to do.

Rice balls at 2am.

Time passing too quickly, building up reserves of positive energy to be rationed and used when I get back home.

Cheap plastic silver wig.

Making art out of thin air.

Acupuncture in my living room.

A full handmade cotton kimono as a present.

Knowing what my next tattoo will be.

dawn and dusk 02

2009-06-04T22:32:00.005+08:00

Quick notes to self on the project I want to do, before this brief clarity fades.

1. Collect stories of falling in love and falling out of love

2. Yesterday I was on Horohira Bashi (the main bridge overlooking Toyohira river in the city), intending to film the sunset on my mobile phone. I was looking up at the sky, thinking big and profound thougts, when something compelled me to look down. I laughed out loud, because all along the banister of the bridge, people had scrawled love notes in Japanese. I had stumbled upon the city's secret repository of love graffiti. It was a humbling moment - you can have this grand idea of what you want to do or express, and the street will always beat your imagination. Look down, always remember to look down. I spent the rest of the fading light photographing each little note... mostly executed in liquid paper ('blanco' to some people).

3. Turn these love notes into stamps (almost all tourist/public spots like museums, onsen and temples have these stamps for people to commemorate their visit), so that people can take home a souvenir.

4. Extract the colors of sunset and sunrise, print these out on sheets of paper - enough to cover a wall. People can stamp the love notes on these sheets of paper.

5. Project videos of love stories collected on the wall.

6. Film self at the most scenic and beautiful spots to catch sunrise and sunset telling own story of falling in and out of love.

That's it!

Healthy

2009-06-02T22:55:00.007+08:00

UPDATE: Now with pics to make you salivate. What's that's reflex thing again? The one that makes dogs drool? I'd google it. But...

Le ingredients. Fried rice is the same whichever continent you find yourself on. But my dad taught me to follow this rule: never put garlic in fried rice. Only onion. I don't know why, but I've never questioned this wisdom.

Managing a non-personal blog is like managing a thousand egos. And that's not even counting my own (substantial) one. At least I'm geographically distant from it all at the moment. Now I know why sometimes gallerist/blogger/super nice fellow Ed Winkleman just loses it and lashes out in the comments. In fact, I don't know how he manages to do it so seldom. I love you Ed!

Tonight I made use of last night's rice and made fried rice with long beans, onion, tofu and tomatoes. Surely enjoying one's own cooking as much as I did smacks of vulgar, sinful pride. It's just that I was so happy eating it. Tried a new Sapporo beer as well. I promised Z. some images, but I'll add them tomorrow. Enough of the internet and my computer today.

In the midst of cooking. I have a tiny frying pan, so I use the soup pot for pretty much everything.

You know that scene in Heidi (by Joanna Spyri), where she gets used to her new life in the Swiss Alps with her grandfather - she takes a cold bath, then drinks a glass of fresh milk, and eats a big slab of toasted cheese with bread and has the best sleep of her life? That's how I feel.

Presentation is everything. So is beer. I try a different beer every night so that I can build up a collection of beer cans. My motives are purely aesthetic of course.

Today I cooked

2009-06-01T22:53:00.004+08:00

...a Spanish Tortilla - basically an omelette with onions and thin slices of fried potatoes in it. Drizzled on top about 1/3 of a tiny, ridiculously expensive bottle of Thai chili sauce I splurged on at the supa-maruketto. Cos, I'm South East Asian, yo. And we need our chili sauce.

And then for dinner, it was plain rice. Eaten with a bunch of grilled white asparagus seasoned with oil, salt and pepper. Tender bamboo shoot stewed in soysauce and mirin (sweet rice vinegar). Some fresh cherry tomatoes.

Plenty of flesh on me bones at the moment. Enjoying the tastes and textures of Hokkaido produce!

dnunken post 02

2009-05-31T22:34:00.004+08:00

hello... drunken again.. kind of.

E. took me along to the cutest little boutique selling reconstructed vintage clothes and antiques. I was sorely tempted by two carved wooden pendants (an anchor and a ship's wheel), and a pair of skirt/shorts that was based on an antique pattern of Victorian bloomers. We hung out there eating cheese + homemade goodies and drinking lots of excellent Sangria.

Z. (bless his dear heart) said 'just splurge on one piece lah', but this year I made a decision to only buy Malaysian-made fashion. I have my eyes on a beautiful long silk dress from Gallo. I've been looking for an ankle-length dress I can wear with sneakers, and the Gallo dress is definitely it. It has a lime green top, with bright purple skirt. If it is the sole item of clothing I purchase this year, I will be happy. I'm proud of myself that I haven't bought any clothing or shoes since February, except a 5-pack of cute cotton panties. I'm finding new ways to wear all my clothes, which is pretty fulfilling. It's the dresses... the dresses that are my weakness. I see a beautiful one and all good sense flies out the window.

Uh... i think i'll have a smoke now. then bed. goodnight. drunken and happy. observatory... seeing stars. mmm.

Drunken post

2009-05-29T23:39:00.002+08:00

Riding home through fog at midnight, with vodka, wine and some home-made hooch (o-sake) in my bloodstream.

Crossing the bridge over Toyohira river was like brushing the robes of a sleeping god.

Pleasure, laughter, food and drink. Sleep now. I'm happy. Good night.

Notes on Dawn and Dusk

2009-05-28T17:24:00.003+08:00

It has been ages since I last posted here. My cup of life runneth over, and there has been little space for the sort of musings I like to indulge in here.

Now, I'm on a 2-month artist residency in Sapporo, Japan. As usual in my life, it was a last minute thing. Being suddenly spirited away from the chaos of KL life, and I'm finding the slow, gentle pace of this new city simultaneously pleasant and unsettling. I told someone the other day that going on a residency is like being put through a pasta machine - you get strrrrrrrretchhhhhhed out, and all the starch in you needs to expand to encompass the new experience of each day. My artist life has so far been 4 years of constant extending and retracting - I guess it's like having a penis? I don't like where this metaphor is going. I'm going to kill it.

I never wrote at length about the long awaited administrative job that turned out to be just a mirage. I've had disappointments and rejections aplenty, but I don't like dwelling on them. I shed a few tears, I suppose, maybe shook an imaginary fist or two in the privacy of my own room. I'm pretty much safely over the self-pitying now, and the institution in question has crumbled, if not quite into dust, then at least into something resembling farcical ruins - of the fake rock variety. The point is, the elasticity needed in my artist life had worn me out completely. Stasis looked, and still looks, very inviting. I find I can't tell this to any but my closest persons - or, correct that, the people who know me well, all tell me I have... to... stop. Slow down. They get it. I don't.

It's been two weeks now since I left home. From frenzy into - well, sitting. Sit sit sit. When you proof dough, it means letting it sit in a bowl with a little towel over it. It usually doubles in size, all the yeast is working and getting things going. That's what's happening to me. I'm being proofed, but I want to be kneaded.

I want to be kneaded!!! Well, I also want to be made love to in anonymous hotel rooms, to be photographed naked, to dance sexily at seedy beach bars during sunset. All of this has nothing to do with tame ideas of 'love', but everything to do with what makes me feel alive. I once got drunk with a bunch of strange men - shots of alcohol set aflame, that sort of nonsense, made them buy a bottle of gin - drank them under the table and then abandoned them to feng tau with young chinese boys in an awful disco in Phileo Damansara. Hahaha, yes, besfren, you were there. You knew it happened. That's one of the most vivid memories I have. Fear, recklessness, and some insane instinct or misplaced belief that no harm would come to me.

I see brows furrowing. Bless you. And bless you if yours isn't.

Hmm. I have missed posting here. It's like having a good, comfortable vomit.

Basically, I'm in the process of letting go. Learning to party, being comfortable doing nothing. And the art is coming, slowly, in a trickle. It was actually to latch on to the very beginnings of ideas that I started to write this post. Well, took a detour there, didn't I?

I've said many times that dawn and dusk are my favorite times of the day. They're transition times and so force you to be in the moment. It reminds me of falling in and out of love. The first point you started feel... something, isn't that dawn. And then the end, or the begining of it... that's dusk. The inevitability of what's in between, what follows, and then the whole repeated the next day - if you're lucky. So lucky to be alive.

Observatories. Take some pictures of dawn and dusk from there. Extract the colors... collect some stories of falling in and out of love. Give some colors away. Something like that.

I think.

I hope that's what I'm going to do.

Patience

2009-04-13T18:19:00.003+08:00

Living with my housemates J. and W. is great. They give me all the space I need (which is ridiculously large ammounts), but are always sympathetic listeners to alot of pent up frustration I have inside. That one reason why I haven't been posting here - I find I need this crutch less and less.

Sometimes I go to sleep at night, wondering if I am being stupid by doing all these other things (like starting ARTERI) instead of concentrating hard on my art career like a good little artist should. Those opportunities slipping by... all that lost studio time...

I stack up ideas for the work I want to make... each one a little lego brick in the private corner of my mind. I have a big show welling up inside me, and I will launch it when the time is right. Perhaps in a couple of years. I hear voices of all my secret mentors whispering: 'be patient, little fish', and also, 'is getting older so very bad? success at a young age is overrated'.

Each time I get mad/frustrated, I think about how lucky I am to be here in Malaysia - in this rich, flawed and beloved country. Those of us who are able have no excuse, no excuse whatsoever, to not do what we can to imagine and create a better future.

Quite often, I think of you, Snail... do you even come by to visit me here anymore? I haven't seen you in ever so long. Sometimes I really miss you, and a great desire to meet you face to face builds up. But I respect your need for distance. Something tells me you are somewhere safe and at peace, finding whatever it is you need.

Consider this an emo rant. I don't know about you, but I certainly feel better for it.

Life's g

2009-03-31T00:24:00.004+08:00

Hello. Haven't been here for awhile. Moved out into a new house. Didn't get the corporate job afterall. Started a new art blog: www.arterimalaysia.com. Trying to write a post for it about 'darkness'. A friend in Yangon intercepted with a gchat. Too good not to share it: (normal posting will resume soon, promise)

mrt: hello Ma'am.
me: hullo sir
how are you?
mrt: dont know why this simple ques make me difficult.
anyway,think i m good.
:)
really happy to see you again.
me: haha. simple questions are the worst questions
I'm glad to 'see' you too
mrt: i sent you a msg thru facebook.
me: just think: we're talking, but I'm here and you're there. Wish someone would invent a way to drink beer through gmail chat
ya, I haven't check my facebook for some time
mrt: i totally agree with that.
me: too much noise - email, phone, etc.
mrt: gtalk = gdrink
me: heheh. great idea.
mrt: it should be that way.
me: it should
mrt: you know...
the uncles has been testing to tighten
the grip of e-networking between
us.
and the internet connection is
really sluggish these days.
me: I see.
I don't think I like your uncles
we should poison them at the next family dinner
mrt: that's the most effective way,i think.
me: HAHAH :D
mrt: if not,our brains will be full of their shit
and our deeds will be in their shit.
:)
me: yes... poison.
Mrt... you know, last week, we had something called 'Earth Hour'
do you know it?
mrt: 8888?
me: it's when the whole world is supposed to turn off all their lights for one hour - to save the earth.
stupid idea.
mrt: i c.
he he.
me: but it made me think about something though... the idea of 'darkness'
mrt: many Earth hours from my room,then.
me: HAHAH :D
mrt: do u like the darkness?
me: I'm trying to write something about 'darkness'
I do like it... it's very comforting
I was thinking: in heaven, what if there is no night?
I think I'd go crazy
I'd try and poke my eyes blind
mrt: it will be like you r taking too much amphetamine.
me: yes!
scary
mrt: in Burmese, we say...
eyes wide like lemons
mrt: as a mortal/ephemeral,i really can't enjoy thinking of eternity in every aspects.
me: heh... yes.
now is far better than any sort of eternity.
mrt: yes.
me: it'd be better with some kind of beer, or nice scenery, maybe a girlfriend (for you) or my boyfriend (for me)
mrt: there come another unlucky twos for lucky us.
:)
me: heheh. ya!
mrt: we want GDrink...
me: now now now
mrt: GDrink...
Gdrink....
fight,fight,fight for your Gdrink
me: say it enough times, it seems more real. That's art, right?
mrt: can't separate it now.
it becomes life...
me: hah!
mrt: it becomes art...
me: great, I can taste gdrink already
it has some lemons in it
mrt: one of your eyes is committing treason
against our Gdrink constitution
it seems to have taken Gphetamine
our rival gang.
me: haha. I'm laughing.
glaugh
mrt: me too.
Ghaha.
me: HAHAHAHAH
mrt: haGhaGhaGha
i m so happy.
me: stop it. heheheh
me too.
I got to go now, though.
mrt: ok. you wanna ban G?
me: Someone is calling...
mrt: i have to _o too
keep in touch!
then!
me: no, let's keep G!
ok.
mrt: be _ood.
me: ok, I'll keep the g, you can do the rest
mrt: hu_s
me: g bye
g.
mrt: ni_ht!
me: :D
mrt: seize the night!
night,Sharon!

Seasonal mating

2009-02-11T16:19:00.002+08:00

Somehow someway marriage season has descended upon me. As happy as I am for the individual persons, I wish I could be happy for them at a distance, preferably with iron-cast excuses as to why I can't attend their wedding dinners/functions/surprise parties etc etc etc. This is hell on earth for a closet agoraphobe such as me. I have to keep reminding myself: it's not about me, it's not about me, it's not about me, so grin and bear it you stupid fish!

Silence

2009-01-28T22:14:00.005+08:00

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!

2009-01-28T17:36:00.006+08:00

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

2009-01-19T18:59:00.007+08:00

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

2009-01-19T00:05:00.012+08:00

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

2009-01-15T01:54:00.004+08:00

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

2009-01-15T01:21:00.007+08:00

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?

2009-01-15T00:03:00.006+08:00

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

2009-01-07T11:43:00.010+08:00

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.

Resolutions

2008-12-29T15:33:00.003+08:00

1. Say no.
(Someone told me the other day that I'll make less mistakes if I remember that there's usually only three answers to a request:

a. yes
b. no
c. I don't unnerstan

No to things I don't want to do. No to people I don't want to be with. No when enough is enough.)

2. Be happy.

3. Stop smoking.

4. Take the good, leave the bad.

28

2008-12-19T15:14:00.003+08:00

*The evil people took away the internet for a few days, so this is a delayed post. Enjoy... especially the picture (it's not me, it's G.)*

I read somewhere that being subjected to too much light is bad for the mind and body. (In fact, it's a technique used in interrogation and torture) If you've been up many nights doing work with all the lights on, you'll know what I mean. Darkness is comfort and rest, a kind of surrender. For so many weeks (months!), I've felt as though every switch in my system has been hardwired to 'ON'. I even found some switches to turn on that I never knew existed! It's been hard and slow coming down, switching off, tuning out. I still get up restless at 7am. A mild, inexplicable sense of panic accompanies me everywhere like a stubborn little pet. I’ve fed and cultivated it slavishly and it will just not. Go. Away. Shoo!

Yesterday was my birthday. It was a gentle day, full of quiet transformations. Me and G. got massages to celebrate. There was an… ahem, incident involving a pair of disposable panties, as well as a farcical lunch, which we will not delve into too deeply here. As we lay there purring and comatose, I couldn’t help thinking we were something like dead logs being aromatherapically prodded back into the land of the living and breathing!

In the evening, even though it was drizzling, we went to Pantai Pasir Panjang, nearby in Balik Pulau. I think it’s one of Penang’s last beautiful beaches. You take a short windy road, following the signs to Kem Bina Negara and Pulau Betong. You pass by saltwater marsh on your right and then there it is at the end of the road – our little secret hideaway! The sun was setting. The water was warm. I was being cradled in the bowl of the world - I floated on my back in it, feeling faint raindrops on my face… and then like some methodical short circuit every switch in my body and mind started to go out. Flip flip flip flip. I looked up at the great sky, and I was weightless – no words, no memories. I was only something tossed by the gentle waves, belonging equally to sea and shore: they couldn’t decide who was going to have me!

The light was something magical and seemed to go on and on. The waves got a little stronger. One, two: ok, it was decided then: the shore it was. I stepped out clean and at peace, warmed by an indefinable sense of gratitude. Me and G. swigged vodka, lit up cigarettes and watched until the sun burnt itself out in the sky.

Later, I slept the deep, restful sleep of the blessed. It was a great day.

Yangon album

2008-12-11T14:00:00.006+08:00

Silly Betta forgot to take an adapter, so the camera gave out after 2 days. Here are some shots I managed to take. You'll have to imagine the rest :)

M.S. (as we jingle past in a trishaw):'Traders Hotel: that's the tallest building in Yangon!'

On the second night, we attend an outdoor theatre/poetry/dance performance set on the grounds of a Hindu temple in a nearby township. I had some problems with the performance, but the setting was beautiful. The text hanging from the trees is the first character in the Myanmar alphabet: 'ka'.

I had my food prepared literally 2 ft in front of me! Too much fun. He's cooking the vegetables I chose. Wonder who's going to pick the pig's nose.

Beautiful Inya lake, perfect dating-spot.

M.D. (a poet, writer and my long-suffering translator), M.S. and Hong,O.B. in the evening light.

Group shot of Myanmar artists and silly old me. Everyone is serious, but I'm grinning like the goddamn Cheshire Cat.

Hong, O.B. in a trishaw. The funnest way to get around Yangon. I was like a kid in a park not wanting my ride to end.

Phones are hot commodities in Yangon. Not everyone has one, so people set up a makeshift 'phonebooth'! So enterprising!

Happy M.S. :)

Heartlands: Myanmar Part I

2008-12-11T13:32:00.001+08:00

Evening over Yangon: as beautiful as any evening at home, but drawn out as long as it can go, like an extended breath.

I have the briefest moment of solitude before waves of social activity wash over me - the long-awaited, much-sweated-over exhibition opening of 'Pendatang/Arrivals' is tonight! Yesterday, after giving the wall labels a last twitch to correct some imagined imperfection, me and G. looked at each other and broke out into relieved smiles. It's been tough going for both of us. But I think we were meant to meet at this time. I'm certain that, if it had been any other person, stuck up here together for months upon months, I would have run screaming from the hills, leaving a trail of unfinished art/junk behind me.

I landed safely in Penang on Sunday, after 4 days in Yangon. I don't know how to start writing about my trip, other than to say I am a changed person. I was irrationally happy to see M.S. again - it was a 1000watt smile that lit up from within when I spotted him beyond the arrival gates, and then irrationally sad when I left. There were tears, dudes!! I was trying to understand it: a deep connection without romantic love, hell, without a common language even! G. said it's simply something karmic, and I think I'll agree.

The city was everything and nothing like I expected. Dusty streets speckled with betel juice like coughed-up blood. Beautiful, decrepit colonial buildings - stronger, longer-lasting any modern building; although covered with moss they were standing their ground, relentlessly just... enduring. And then shining gold pagodas everywhere, the most awesome of which is undoubtably the heart of the city - Shewdagon pagoda, at least 2500 years old, in existence since Buddha's time and in impeccable condition today. Every taxi or trishaw driver or local artist who took me past there would invariably call my attention to it: look, that's the Shewdagon pagoda. It seemed to me an embodiment of the people's spirit, and I felt almost fearful in the shadow of it's splendour, it's grandeur. Because it is set in the middle of a city devoid of Starbucks, McDonalds or shopping arcades, my eyes were rid of that cynical tint that so often accompanies the viewing of national monuments - it was not a pretty building for my tourist consumption, it was bigger than me...

Until the moment of my return, I think never realized just what a sad soul I have been all this year. Being with the other artists thought me a lot. There are many ways to be oppressed. The worst of all conditions, like Nazim Hikmet once wrote, is that of self-suppression. We enjoy relative freedom, but as my blogger friend says, we might well find that 7 out of 10 Malaysians is under mental seige! Warmth, friendship and sincerity offer the sort of liberation that is truly universal. We all need this. I understand now that when we say these things are more important than art, we do not mean that art is not important. Art is only the vehicle for it...

At the closing party, after I had done my performance 'How To Talk to Strangers', A.K. and his wife came to say goodbye. He took me in his arms and said 'take care of your health ok. I will miss you'. To my utter mortification, I burst into tears. He went on to say quietly: 'It's ok. Don't cry. I understand.' OMG, it makes me tear-up even now. What a emotional wreck I am, something like a jellyfish.

Today, the sun is shining outside. I feel clean. I feel like dark days are over and everything is going to be alright. Starting... now.

Artlands: Myanmar Part II

2008-12-11T13:30:00.003+08:00

No art without booze. Beyond Pressure opening party at Mother Land Inn (the guesthouse where I was staying). My contribution was a bottle of duty free Black Label.

On Saturday (6 Dec), me and Hong O-Bong (a very funny performance artist from Korea) got to sit in on the dialog between Myanmar artists and the Board of Censorship. I couldn't understand what was being said of course, but I managed to register that the atmosphere was quite light - you'd imagine it to be kind of serious, but in fact there was alot of laughter! Uh-huh, believe it. o_0 Each artist stood up by turn and described what they were going to do. Apparently the officials were quite helpful: giving suggestions about how the artists could improve their performances!

At the end of the dialog, we got what we were hoping for: a certificate saying that Beyond Pressure Performance Festival was officially allowed to happen publicly. We crowded around that piece of paper, caressing it and whooping like monkeys! Only then did I realize what an important moment it was for everybody. For the first time, the artists managed to build a bridge with the authorities, and by extension, the general public. It meant that the artists could perform openly, without fear, and that the audience could attend openly, without worry. I can't even begin to imagine what this means for the future...

Everyone immediately went on an 'invitation spree', calling people to let them know that the performances were going ahead, and to come come come! By 3pm, more and more people started to fill the room, and when the first artist, Nyein Way, started his performance, I estimate there were about 40 - 50 people there. Moe later told me that not only had the number of audience exceeded their expectations, but also the diversity. It was not only artists who came, but also students and members of the general public.

As for the 9 Myanmar artists who performed... what can I say... each work was powerful, intellectual and deeply inspiring.

After that, we all went for dinner at a restaurant near Shewdagon Pagoda. There, me and Hong, O-Bong performed our pieces with great participation from all who were present. Even though foreign artists weren't allowed to perform publicly, I think most of the audience followed us to the restaurant venue... in the end, it was still a 'public' performance, heheh. This taught me a big lesson about how to adapt to situations, and to make it work for you.

It's been a great priviledge to meet, talk, perform, experience the city and drink copious ammounts of whiskey together. In my head I'm planning a big exhibition of Myanmar contemporary art in 2009 or 2010. Of course the art is important, but really, I just want to see everyone again...

Last leg last leg

2008-11-19T19:12:00.003+08:00

I am offering libations to all friendly cosmic and earthly energies, supplications to forces great and small... please give me energy and steady nerves to finish my exhibition and trip to Myanmar during the next two weeks.

Amen amen amen.

Killing Jars series

2008-11-13T08:09:00.013+08:00

This is an old work I made in... let's see now, 2005! Zooks! That's 3 years ago. I've been thinking about these lately, I don't know why. They remind me of a time when I thought about art differently. This is one of the few works of mine I really like, and wouldn't mind seeing again. But it's in some collector's cave of treasures now. If I could buy them back...

Enjoy!

City Scurvy, Acrylic on glass, 2005
Individual jars painted with teeth, a jawbone on the outside. At the time I was full of angst - the city was eating me up inside, and I was suffering from an impacted wisdom tooth!

N.o. Substance : Disc 1 Disc 2, Acrylic on glass, 2005
My boss at the time gave me a copy of New Order's double disc album Substance. It was a revelation! Numbers are the time for each song on the album, inside is the list of song titles. I remember I would drive alone to the airport with this playing, feeling quite sorry for myself. Yes, I was an emo little thing.

Dream, Acrylic on glass & folded acetate, 2005
The text on the outside indicates the parts of a full-rigged sailing ship, minus the ship itself. Trapped in the inner bottle is a little boat folded from acetate. The ship obsession began even then...

Lover, Acrylic on glass & windshield fragments, 2005
Two fragments from a broken windscreen stuck in their respective timezones. This is the saddest work in the world. Heartache, heartbreak and woe! I found the windscreen dumped by the side of the road - I had a friend with me who rolled her eyes at my 'zup lap sap' (trash-picking) habits but helped me find a plastic bag to put it in anyway. Time weals all hounds - but everytime I see this work I remember...

*All these images are copyright Sharon Chin, 2005. If you use them, please ask for permission, or at least credit.

An imperfect art

2008-11-11T21:06:00.003+08:00

Snapshot of Chinary Ung's Spiral IX, taken from Malaysiancomposers.com

Crunch time has come to visit again. The show is 3 weeks away and counting, with all the usual sicknesses in full attendance - heart beating faster, intense anxiety, fatigue. If you visited my mind, what you'd find there is a blinking neon sign.

I won't be posting often, but please read *this* lecture by Cambodian-American composer Chinary Ung. I searched him out after reading a wondefully moving interview with him and Malaysian composer CH Loh in this month's Off The Edge (which by the way, is an excellent issue overall).

He talks about how art (music) is imperfect, and speaks soulfully about the creative process as a spiritual quest that is 'not about position, it's about expression and liberation'. Yes, yes, you've heard it all before. But for me, I find that I can never hear enough of this sort of wisdom, and in fact I DON'T hear enough of it. I think no matter what sort of artist you are, whether successful or washed-out, you are always waiting for a teacher to show you the path again... that path... which shimmers tenously, blown in and out of sight by fear and... what else but a lack of faith?

At this point, I'll whisper to you my deepest dream: I want to live by the sea doing what I love to do, and build a community around that. The end of 2008 will mark 4 years since I started living and working as an artist. I think all this time I was (have been) struggling madly (fiercely!) to spiral from the outside into the center. Next year, when I begin my new job, I WILL be at the 'center' - it's the logical conclusion of my quest so far. The path I began on can't go much further than that, I think. So after that time (how long will it take? 1 year? 2?) in the center... I'll start spiralling out again... reaching for the ocean, my home.

But yeah, go read that lecture. And wish me luck for my show!

Soooo... what kind of art do you do?

2008-11-04T21:32:00.003+08:00

Is a question that poses a real conundrum.

I feel as though I'm never more boring as when I try to answer it. I blather on... verbal subterfuges 'uh, conceptual artist... all kinds of media... no no, not a traditional sculptor IN THAT SENSE but...'; mumbled jargon followed by a quick change of subject. Hardly doing myself any favours in the process.

But trust one of my banker best-friends to come up with the perfect solution:

T.W.: Betta, what you do is you make beautiful things out of rubbish.

She nailed it! That's what I'm using from now on!

Ink and hair

2008-11-02T15:47:00.008+08:00

I'm going to be cliche and declare that I hate women's magazines on the whole, yet bafflingly, once in a while, I absolutely MUST know what Keira bloody Knightley's or Angelina bugger Jolie's views are on life, love, sex and global warming. Yeah, usually when I'm stuck in a doctor's office with nothing to read. Some, like Marie Claire or Harpers are okay (I've been in the former and a friend works at the latter), but really... ugh whatever, I'm hungover and miserable so I'm just going to say it... it's all excreble.

A magazine I've started reading lately is Inked, which is about tattoos generally, but dressed-up in culture, art and fashion. Their photospreads feature absolutely gorgeous creatures, all real women with their tattoos who don't look retouched. You totally see goosebumps, shaved legs (well-shaved legs, but at least you can TELL they're shaved, at least you know that despite what you see in ads and fashion shoots, women do not enter the world as naturally hairless as... as... bloody hairless Mexican dogs), frekles, scars, folds in the armpits and neck, and all kinds of skin color and body shapes. And it's not like those stupid 'Real Beauty Within' issues women's magazines invariably put out once a year to convince themselves they're not purveyurs of unhealty body image and general shithouse-ness. They are just beautiful, beautiful shots of beautiful women in beautiful clothes and make-up.

Wow, I'm in a GOOD mood today, aren't I? Can't even summon up the will (Betta it's called latent perfectionism, fuck you!) to find different words for 'beautiful' in the Word thesaurus. Sigh. I'll stop spreading around my inner anger and misery like a bad case of herpes now. I'll leave on a high note: here's one of my favorite photos in the lastest issue of Inked, of the impossibly beautiful tattoo artist Julie Becker. I've decided that this will be my next haircut as soon as the current one grows out.

Enjoy, bitches. Oh, and pay a visit to Inked online where you can see the entire photoset. Some of them are in colour. Mmmm.

photo taken from Inked Mag online: www.inkedmag.com

I drank the Seven Seas*

2008-11-02T15:15:00.008+08:00

...and some Club 99*

...and vodka

...and beer.

Oh yes, there was quite a bit of sorrow to drown. I did it with great dedication. But that's between me, the bottle(s) and the hills.

*these are Malaysian liquors well known for their... ahem, affordability, efficacy, and ability to induce a blindingly painful hangover. There's a reason why they're sold at Chinese medical halls throughout the country: cheap cure for misery, but apply with caution.

Happy thoughts

2008-10-29T22:56:00.003+08:00

Because I'm stuck alone on a hill, feeling blue.

1. The sea
2. Boats
3. Tattoos
4. Bright stars
5. Clear nights
6. Dresses
7. Wine
8. Buying art
9. Literature
10. Miyazaki
11. Tophats
12. Breakfast
13. Walking
14. New languages
15. Galapagos
16. Mexico
17. Argentina
18. Portugal
19. Make-up
20. Dancing
21. Poop
22. Z. + Bunny
22. Aubrey & Maturin
23. Sex
24. Bach
25. Dan Savage
26. Friends, old and new
27. Graphic novels
28. Bikinis
29. Glass jars
30. Sydney
31. The moon
32. Whiskey, expensive or cheap
33. Gardens
34. Coconuts, trees and to eat
36. Herbs
39. Jacques Pepin
40. Panthers
41. Rivers
42. Antares
43. Color pencils
44. Perfume
45. Sleep, after a long day
46. Honey
47. Cloth bags
48. Massage
49. Rubber bouncy balls
50. Ur-Quan Masters!

Ooo. It worked. Back to work. Laters.

Happiness

2008-10-26T16:14:00.005+08:00

I was really happy last night. (Photo by Azwan Ismail)

Disco Darurat was fucking awesome! Pretty dress, great music curated by Jerome Kugan, crazy-ass dancing which turned into improvised performances at several instances, cheap alcohol (ok, it weren't that cheap) siphoned into me by A.Y. (thanks A.!), plus so many of my favorite people there (except Godzilla). It was a great night.

Talking down

2008-10-26T15:37:00.007+08:00

Godzilla talks down Betta's anxieties about joining (touch wood, throw salt over your shoulder, cross fingers, etc) corporate Malaysia:

Godzilla: ...and make sure you take the effort to go for lunch with people.
Betta *looking totally catastrophie*: Huh? Lunch? With people? I have to do that? WTF. OMG. What the hell do I talk about?

This means I can no longer eat toast in the sweetness of my own company all day long.

Betta: I feel like a hillbilly. I feel like I'm 23, starting my first job.
Godzilla: This is not hard. It's easy. Look, if 50 percent of Malaysians can do it, so can you.
Betta: I feel retarded.

This made me realize just how inept we artists are at dealing with stuff other people can do without thinking too much about it. Fill this giant, cavernous space with a hanging sculpture in 3 days? Sure! Circulate at a corporate function? OMG OMG OMG OMG. Interact daily with bosses, secretaries, and office assistants? Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

And here's the heartbreak hotel woe-is-me stuff:

Betta: Are people going forget about me as an artist?
Godzilla: Yes, people are probably going to forget about you. (Ain't she good? This is called tough love, y'all) But trust me, when you're done with it, it's not going to take long for them to remember you again.

-

There is so so so much work to be done before the end of the year, my guts quail at the very thought. If it wasn't clear enough to me before that I can no longer continue working in this manner, then I'm absolutely certain of it now.

So in spite of misgivings and anxieties, which honestly, I find difficult to fully articulate, I do look at this impending change with a great sense of relief, anticipation even. And if I may be allowed the indulgence of saying so: I suspect... that I'll make my best art in my 30s. Isn't that something to look forward to?

Welcome to another world

2008-10-23T19:49:00.002+08:00

The interview went well.

Short of any storms or change of heart it appears I will start the new year doing something quite different.

More later. For now, I realized that I'll have to change the description of my blogger profile! Ok, that's freaking me out. See you later.

Relative stress

2008-10-19T09:03:00.005+08:00

Back in KL for a few days - work, weddings, interview.

If *I* feel stressed, can you imagine what Obama's going through?

(from the lovely Ed Winkleman)

If I don't get that flashy job, I will still be perfectly happy - moving out, living cheaply and perhaps not buying quite so many dresses.

If I fuck up my exhibition so badly that I'm stoned out of Georgetown as a pariah artist.. um. I will still be perfectly happy - I'll move to that little fishing village in Teluk Bahang and live out my freelancer days in complete bliss.

So everyone (including me), chill the fuck out!

New dress New dress New dress

2008-10-10T13:25:00.005+08:00

Ugh. This online shopping thing is bad for my credit.

Considering I'm living on a hill where grooming really is at the bottom of my priorities, all this dress purchasing must be driven by some compulsion I don't quite understand yet. They're being sent to my house in KL, so I haven't even seen them! When I go back there and open the boxes it will be like Christmas...

Anyway, back to work to pay for these lovely threads!

Once again, dress and photo from http://the-shoplifters.blogspot.com/

Tired old fish

2008-10-09T19:01:00.005+08:00

Revolving hatstand from www.storefixturedepot.com. Wouldn't this make such a cute sculpture, filled up with quirky handmade hats?

You may have noticed, dear reader, that the last few posts have been distinctly list-like in nature. This isn't merely stylistic conceit, but an attempt to keep track of the multiplying threads in my head - always on the verge of becoming a hopeless tangle.

Here are some dates, so that you too, can follow the fascinating travails of my life:

1. We know at last that the residency exhibition opening dates are 8 - 18 December. Yeah, 10 days long (AND CLOSED ON WEEKENDS - it's going to be in a bank, people) make that 7 days!), WTF right? Oh well. Opening is December 12.

2. Dec 3 - 7: I'm going to Myanmar! Beyond Pressure International Performance Festival is happening and I will be there. I'm so happy and excited about this, even though it is right before the exhibition. I'm trying not to think about that, because something deep inside, like maybe my small intestine, is telling me that this is going to be a life-changing experience. I'm thinking about performing How To Talk To Strangers, as well as a new little work I developed from a game the teacher made us play in sign language class.

3. That G.P. research project. Sigh... it's more hard work. And the deadline inches closer.

Damn, I'm tired. I'm at zero, baby. I can pull out a little more magic for this last road, but after that, I'm hanging up my cloak and hat for awhile.

This has got to be the most boring post I've ever written. (If you're having some discreditable, facetious thought in your head along the lines of say, oh, 'maybe not the MOST boring...' - meh, shame on you)

Well onto happier thoughts. Let's help Betta plan a holiday! Any ideas are welcome. Keep in mind that I like the sea, boats, lounging around beaches in my bikini, eating vegetarian food, reading, sewing, having hot sex, wearing funny clothes and getting drunk. I also feel like I'd like to do some recreational drugs (in a safe and nurturing environment).

I'm thinking most about a trip to East Malaysia... a whole other Malaysia.

Second place goes to Langkawi, just because it's so close to Penang.

Best time to visit me in Penang is from exhibition opening onwards. You can see the show and then we can consume disgusting amounts of duty-free Langkawi booze.

Right-o, bright-o. I have to post this before the power cuts off again. It's thundering and lightning vastly outside.

Birthing pains

2008-10-02T17:29:00.007+08:00

1. Pocket seas
Flipbooks animations of mobile phone videos of the sea, shot from seven points of the island.

2. Sailing pockets
A scaled down suite of sails sewed from transparent organza, turned into shoulder bags, incorporating pockets rescued from old trousers. White is the colour of surrender.

3. Sitting states/Bumiputeri
Silhouettes of different states of sitting, filled with sand, sewn into straw mats. Weight of the body - imprint on the land. This place is ~~forcing~~ teaching me to sit.

-

12 people die when their boat sinks after leaving Port Klang. They're on their way home to celebrate Hari Raya.

-

Each person journeys to find a home, and this journey is internal as much as external.

We all need safety, a place to rest and sit. This invitation is extended to all - rich and poor, young and old, male and female, from all corners of the world - because this search is basically a function of the body. This body that's a universal burden - humble, imperfect (like a carpet) - with so much capacity for pain. The mind and spirit are respites of the body. Sometimes the body is its own respite.

-

Reading: The Stone Raft by Jose Saramago; The Hundred Days by Patrick O'Brian.

Saramago's nobel lecture *here*.
-

Feeling: something moving.

-

Missing: Poop, friends, lover & family.

Two small surrenders

2008-10-01T23:11:00.003+08:00

1.
There'll come a time
when veils are drawn back
when the distant lights you see
from the plane
or the hill
or across the sea
are just pretty to look at
and don't mean a thing
no matter how hard you try.

2.
Now, I want to love you
with my eyes shut
nothing watching
but the night.
And you take the words
right out,
leave breath pouring
in

My new dress

2008-09-27T12:49:00.005+08:00

I'm afraid I may have opened the floodgates with my very first online purchase. The transaction was completed in less than 2minutes. Barely enough time to register just what I was doing.

But look! It's vintage! It's got pleats! And sleeves! And stardust! In black and white! And it's got goddamn snow leopards all over it. I shall say no more, only that I can't wait to wear it out, drink cheap alcohol all night long and feel extremely pleased with myself. Dress and its picture from http://the-shoplifters.blogspot.com/.

Weather II

2008-09-25T15:24:00.002+08:00

1. Weather is a system.
2. The system circulates.
3. Nothing lost, nothing gained.

Also, what are weathermaps but maps of change?

Pockets II

2008-09-25T15:15:00.005+08:00

This is about circulation.

Start
1. Residency - get/give money
2. Money - put in pocket
3. Pocket - get object
4. Object - transform into something
5. Something - show to people
6. People - buy something, get/give money
Start again

Pockets

2008-09-23T21:20:00.005+08:00

The first task: Buying
On the first day, I am going to give you RM0.50 to put in your pocket. You are to go out and buy something with it. It can be anything, you are only limited to two conditions: it doesn't cost you more than RM0.50 to get it, and it must fit in your pocket.

On the second day, I am going to give you RM5.00 to put in your pocket. You are to do the same as the first day. The third day, RM50.00, and the fourth day, RM500.00.

The second task: Keeping
Keep what you have bought in your pocket for the entire day. You can write about it if you want, take it out and look at it or think about it. Or you can just keep it there. Don't show it to anyone at this point. At the end of the day, try to take a picture of your pocket with what you have bought still inside it. If you don't have a camera with you, try to draw a picture of your pocket. If you feel that you're not good at drawing, you might try describing what your pocket looks like. You can write down your description, or just remember it.

The third task: Showing
Now you are going to transform what you have bought in your pocket into something you can take out and show your friends. You may want to build a little box for it, turn it into something else, paint it different colours, burn it to ashes, or anything you like. Because you had to do these tasks 4 separate times with different allowance of money, you will have four things you can take out of your pocket to show to and talk about with your friends, families or even strangers.

Expanded world

2008-09-23T17:47:00.004+08:00

I only ever associated Ilya and Emilia Kabakov with that 'mausoleum' installation at Serpentine Gallery, London, and I never wanted to look at their work. But I chanced upon an image from Singapore Biennale 2008 of their installation and it looked wondrous. A little digging turned up their site, which is a little heavy on the flash-bells-n-whistles, but shows a whole range of beautiful, poetic and, why not say it, rather wacky projects.

Even the short descriptions of each work opens up whole new worlds. Here are some of my favorites, which I don't doubt you will love as well! Yes, it's very 'me'...

The Antenna
Whenever we look up at the sky, we involuntarily have a 'presentiment': unconsciously we anticipate some sort of communication from there; it seems that 'something' will be addressed directly to me...

Ten Characters
The inhabitants of these rooms are stricken by the dream of abandoning this depressing and interminable world. Each invents his own special means of escape or at least a way for ignoring the surroundings. This becomes a maniacal idea for each of them...

The Palace of Projects
A unique museum of dreams, hypotheses, and projects, even if unrealizable, the Palace of Projects stimulates the viewers' own fantasies, prompting him toward the resolution of his own tasks, awakening his imagination, providing the impulse for his own creative activity

The Ship of Siwa
The theme 'Ships and Boats of Ancient Egypt' is to be introduced into the curriculum of Siwah schools for the spring of 2005. The teachers will show slides depicting ancient vessels, they will explain their construction and purposes, and will assign the task of drawing them, either by copying these depictions or by improvising on this same theme.

The Life of Flies
Recently, a group of scientists has been proposing a hypothesis as to the direct and unmediated influence of fly associations on finance

The Bridge
There is no single description of what happened - the reports maintain the most adamant discrepancies. However, one inexplicable circumstance was obvious to all: after all of the commotion had subsided, the entire floor in the center of the hall was littered with groups of little white people, constantly exchanging places...

Here's a picture of The Palace of Projects:

My unhealthy state of mind means I'm not capable of very big thoughts these days, but maybe a little later on in the game I'd like to make work like this again. For now, I'm trying to do everything on a much more modest scale, a scale within my reach.

Kisses from Penang.

Some things never change

2008-09-16T08:07:00.004+08:00

This made me cry:

"Kok berkata semasa pertemuan itu, beliau memberikan kepada anaknya ubat herba Cina dan pati ayam."

From here.

Sitting for SPM? Brands essence of chicken!

Pregnant? Brands essence of chicken!

Ditahan ISA? Brands essence of chicken + ginseng kau kau!

Some things never change, and those things are gonna bring us through.

Listen, Betta, Listen

2008-09-15T23:16:00.002+08:00

... to the wisdom of Master Wu Gui!

"Yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery. Today? Today is a gift. That's why we call it the present." (OMG, so true. And without Master Yoda's idiosyncratic syntax!)

"There are no accidents." (Say this three times or keep repeating until unwilling ears receive)

"One often meets her destiny on the road she takes to avoid it." (Goddammit!)

"Let go of the illusion of control" (I'm trying...)

Thoughts on the weather

2008-09-14T13:01:00.005+08:00

As I was saying to G., it's like the weather is the 3rd artist in residence up here at Balik Pulau. Storms, floods, mini landslides, blackouts, rising damp, puddles, showers, gentle rains, winds, sun, high humidity, a million stars in the cloudless night sky - we have seen it all with the promise of more to come. And right now? It's a wondrous day. Laundry day. Sit back day. Sex in the afternoon day. It will bring on an evening that aches on into night, because the day doesn't want to say goodbye.

I have no notions of my purpose up here, still floating from one day to the next, sitting and waiting. The only thing I am sure of is the experiencing of uncertainty. Uncertainty is not to be confused with timidity or sloth...

My thought petered out there, just as I was dwelling on the irony of wanting to speak resolutely of uncertainty. Who knows what it is. It is not a thing (an attribute) but a state (a condition). No knowledge or determination of will has helped me to overcome uncertainty. Believe me when I say this has proved profoundly frustrating.

The only way that helps me think about it is the weather. I wake up every morning trying to read myself like I read the clouds in the sky - will it be rain? Will it storm? The weather is making me realize what to do: arm yourself with knowledge and an inkling, be prepared for anything, have the right tools, keep watch... and just... submit.

Reformasi

2008-09-13T07:58:00.007+08:00

UPDATE: Here is a satellite screenshot of Kamunting Detention Center, the maximum security prison where ISA detainees are kept.

Below is the mapped version, in which, as you cannot fail to notice, the prison does not exist.

Here also is a list of known detainees as of 2001. From Aliran's ISA Watch.
http://www.aliran.com/oldsite/monthly/2001/3e.htm

---

Let's see how long this list of people detained under ISA gets:

1. Raja Petra Kamaruddin
2. Tan Hoon Cheng
3. MP Teresa Kok

Don't lose your heads, people. Malaysians are not barbaric and FASCIST, UMNO is. Don't lose hope, don't pack your bags, don't dig out those Australian PR forms. We will all be needed when the change comes, and it's coming.

Are you reading Jose Saramago's 'SEEING' yet? Now's the time.

Happy Post 06

2008-08-30T18:53:00.005+08:00

Lord knows I dearly love anything dotmatrix.

Awhiles back Z. downloaded a whole series of background art from a game called DinoRun. I just remembered them today and this is what my desktop looks like now:

It's the end of the game, in which our little dino hero has escaped the clutches of Dino-margeddon to reach Dino-topia! It's exactly the sort of place I'd like to live out my life at the end of my game (always assuming I managed to outrun extinction) - infinitely modest, yet elegant and comfortable.

The game itself is more fun than choosing an ice-cream at Baskin Robbins!

Endings and beginnings

2008-08-26T15:07:00.006+08:00

Back in KL for a few days.

Hell and death, if I never have to see another scrap of blue plastic tarpulin as long as I draw breath I should die happy. The show is coming down at last.

Cobwebs are clearing fast in my head... Some hints about the infant, at this stage completely hypothetical show 'Seeing and Hearing': magic tricks, street magicians, little magic props and any old excuse to buy and exhibit a top hat...

More later.

Drunken post

2008-08-20T20:35:00.009+08:00

Hahahah. Didn't take very long did it? Making noble inroads into that bottle of Smirnoff.

The night before last, as I fell asleep, I saw right in front of me, through the mosquito net, a small little green glow, as if a faint star had descended into my concrete hut. Stupid and hazy between dream and life, my thoughts ran thus:

OMG. It's a light. WTF is it doing there? Am I dreaming? I feel quite awake though.
*blink*
Shit, it's still there. You know what they say about seeing a light in the jungle - don't look at it! It may be some pontianiak shennenigans, dey!
But it's so pretty...
*blink*
Still there. Aiyoh. Maybe it's a _______. But who am I kidding, those things disappeared ages ago. Whatever. Sleep la.

Well, I didn't dare to hope, but G. confirmed tonight that there are fireflies around here. So I have been visited. Poor lonely little thing. If it comes again I will stare and stare at it, I promise!

Tomorrow I will try to catch this almost mythical U401 bus into town.

Yesterday night, because of the day's rain, the stars were out in all their glory. I turned off the lights and sat staring at them, rapt and humbled. That simple grace I've known intermittently throughout my life, brought into being by the most cliched of things (sunsets, stars, full moons, ballet, etc.), wrapped around me like an invisible blanket...

Betta: You know, I wish I would just see likd a snake or a giant centipede, so that I can freak out once and then be done with it
G.: Hey, give it time
Betta: I just want to get the freak out out of the way, you know
G.: You may not even see one!
Betta: *forging ahead* So did this centipede actually get onto your foot or was it NEAR your foot? These things matter .
G.: Uhh. It was NEAR, not actually ON.
Betta: *shudder*

Working backwards

2008-08-19T18:43:00.006+08:00

Think it softly and say it in a whisper.

For some unknown reason, I think that the show at the end of the year may be called 'Seeing and Hearing'.

But don't ask why and don't tell anyone. Yet.

Who would believe it, 10 years on...

2008-08-19T18:19:00.005+08:00

... we say these words with more urgency than ever. Read it and then read Jose Saramago's "Seeing"

DEKLARASI PERMATANG PAUH
Menyedari gesaan al-Quran yang bermaksud “tidaklah kami mahu melainkan untuk melakukan islah sekuat daya kami";

Dan berilhamkan tradisi budaya-budaya Asia yang keseluruhannya menganjurkan pembaharuan diri dan masyarakat; Dan menginsafi bahawa Malaysia kini dicengkam kemelut yang dahsyat dan memerlukan kekuatan dalaman untuk bangun semula; Maka kami rakyat Malaysia yang berbilang bangsa dan agama bertekat untuk melancarkan gerakan reformasi yang menyeluruh:

Gerakan reformasi yang terpancar perjuangan hati nurani,dari kesedaran bahawa sesungguhnya diri manusia itu mulia dan merdeka, mempunyai hak dan tanggungjawab, diri manusia haram dizalimi dan diaibkan, haram di belenggu dan disekat tanpa mengikut proses dan undang-undang yang adil;

Gerakan reformasi untuk menegakkan keadilan untuk semua, yang kuat dan yang lemah, yang kaya dan yang miskin; membersihkan institusi dan proses undang-undang dari dicemari oleh penyalahgunaan kuasa dan rasuah;

Gerakan reformasi untuk mendaulatkan kuasa rakyat melalui proses demokrasi. Demokrasi itu satu kemestian, kerana semangat keadilan yang ada dalam diri manusia membolehkan demokrasi dilaksana, tetapi kecenderungan manusia untuk berlaku zalim menjadikan demokrasi satu kewajipan;

Gerakan reformasi untuk memperjuangkan keadilan ekonomi,menjana pertumbuhan dan pengagihan yang saksama, jangan yang kaya bertambah kaya yang miskin papa kedana. Dunia ini mencukupi untuk keperluan semua, tetapi tidak mencukupi untuk memenuhi kerakusan individu;

Gerakan reformasi untuk membanteras rasuah dan penyalahgunaan kuasa, mengikis manipulasi pasaran oleh segelintir golongan rakus dan mahakaya;

Gerakan reformasi untuk memperkukuhkan jayadiri budaya yang dinamis, setia kepada warisan bangsa yang murni dan terbuka kepada segala yang baik dari semua budaya;

Gerakan reformasi untuk membawa bangsa Malaysia ke zaman maklumat dan dunia tanpa sempadan, menjana kebijaksanaan, keyakinan dan keterbukaan untuk menjalin persahabatan sejagat berdasarkan prinsip kebenaran dan keadilan.

Kami akan menggerakkan reformasi ini dengan aman, mengikut semangat perlembagaan dan bernafaskan prinsip pemerintahan undang-undang.

Masanya telah tiba. Bersatulah untuk reformasi.

Permatang Pauh
12 September 1998

PERMATANG PAUH DECLARATION
Being conscious of the Quranic injunction which urges striving towards betterment;

And inspired by the Asian traditions, which all encourage renewal for the individual and for society;

And acknowledging that Malaysia is in the grip of a terrible crisis and requires recourse to its inner strengths in order to rise again,

We the citizens of Malaysia of all cultural and religious backgrounds are determined to launch a movement for comprehensive reform:

A reform movement shining with a light radiating from aspiring and pure hearts; from the awareness that man is truly noble and free, with rights and responsibilities, that it is a sacrilege to abuse and denigrate any man or woman, to bind and restrict any man or woman without following the due process of just laws;

A reform movement to establish justice for all, the weak and strong, the rich and poor, to preserve the institutions and processes of law from the defilement of graft and abuse of power;

A reform movement to sanctify the power of the people through democratic means, for democracy is an imperative: man’s capacity for justice makes democracy possible, but man's inclination to injustice makes democracy necessary;

A reform movement that champions economic justice, one that advocates fairness in economic growth and distribution so that the rich do not get richer at the expense of the poor, for the world has enough for everyone, but too little to satisfy everyone’s greed;

A reform movement to eradicate graft and abuse of power, to strip the opulent and greedy clique of their power to manipulate the market;

A reform movement to reinforce a dynamic cultural identity, where faith in our noble cultural traditions is intact, but there is openness to all that is good in all traditions;

A reform movement to launch the Malaysian nation into the information age and the borderless world, encouraging wisdom, self-assurance and openness towards a global friendship based on the principles of truth and justice.

We launch this reform movement as a peaceful movement, in accordance with the spirit of the Constitution and in observance of the principles of the rule of law.

The hour has come. Unite for Reformasi.

Permatang Pauh
12 September 1998

It's a hill not a mountain

2008-08-18T20:53:00.005+08:00

Balik Pulau, Penang

My accommodations:

Hard to say. To call it a house would be somewhat over generous, yet 'hut' seems a little harsh. It is true that the walls and floor suffer from a lack of paint, making the atmosphere closer to a cell-block than anyone could wish. But there is hot water and electricity, the roof is tiled, and there is internet! It is true that upon closer inspection, me and G. discovered today that the 'mattress' resembles a giant dish sponge. But I haven't slept under a mosquito net nor fallen asleep to the sound of insects since I was a child.

My days:

Long and full with reading, finding the most comforting configuration for the furniture, dusting away cobwebs which seem to grow overnight, fixing food, drinking vodka and staring into space. It started raining yesterday night and continued all day today. At some point I'm sure we were in the middle of a cloud which was gathering more and more weight until it finally turned itself into a giant downpour.

My friends:

G. is the other artist, living in the hut next to mine. She has been here 6 weeks and is positivity and resourcefulness itself! We oriented ourselves well from the very beginning, seeming to sense when the other requires solitude, use of the modem or an offer of alcohol. There are a few forlorn looking dogs and a cat named Mexico who adopted G. in the early days. L. and N. are a Thai couple who work for the resort up the hill. We are an odd little community to be sure, but very comfortable. This place certainly needs to see a good party or two, which we plan to have in the near future.

My work and mind:

Dormant. Both seem to be slumbering away in a dark corner. I prod them every day to see how they are doing, but not too hard! Every morning I wake up and find the weight still there. The other evening I watched L. and N. walk together down the path at the bottom of the hill. They have been married 27 years. I liked seeing how they appeared to communicate silently - you could almost draw some faint lines between them if the idea wasn't so crass. It made me happy and I felt a little like my old self again. I wanted to learn sign language when I was here... maybe that's what I'll do.

Good night.

From the bottom of the river

2008-08-12T13:01:00.004+08:00

Hello there. I'm floating to the surface again, getting used to life after some tough times. There will be more updates soon. Miss me? Hehe.

Music in my head

2008-07-20T22:22:00.004+08:00

The opening of the Cello Suite No.3 from the manuscript of Anna Magdalena Bach, dated 1730.

As I limp along making work for this exhibition, the thought has grown in my mind that I no longer want to make art for awhile. Perhaps a year, maybe even more. At first I dismissed it as the usual stressed-artist hyperbole. When it didn't go away, I became very anxious, started feeling sick in the head - short and sharp attacks of chronic paranoia, unhappiness and panic. My instinct was to push harder and harder to try and reach a breakthrough on the other side - it's always worked before. I guess I did breakthrough, but unlike before, what I've found on the other side... is nothing. I feel a bit of shock, yet now I've really accepted it I feel a little calmer.

It's not something a holiday can fix, or even a fully paid- up residency, or a huge-ass commission. If I was invited to Venice today (haha, yeah, preposterous notion, but what the hell), I tell you honestly I'd feel no joy, only anxiety. But M.S. has asked me to collaborate with him at Asiatopia later in the year, and I feel quite happy about that. I've decided that I must try not to do too many things that cause me to feel anxious, or at some point I may find myself only ever acting out of fear for my career... Now, that's a far smaller life than I ever dreamed for myself.

Go to the places that feed you, not take things from you.

I was going to tell you about Bach's Cello Suites. I've been listening to it while I work and it's like having a friend who understands you and is uplifting you all at once! Cellos have a great old noble sound. I did have a night of great sex to the Cello Suites... so remembered warmth probably has alot to do with it. I highly recommend it. (The sex, and the music, and especially, both together)

Happy Post 05 - My head is a music toy made in China

2008-07-10T09:42:00.003+08:00

A present from G. - one of my favorite things in the world. Been wanting to post an ode to it for a long time.

(Super) Happy Post 04 - Sailor Shirt Bliss

2008-07-07T09:00:00.004+08:00

No time to post pics, but all my clothes dreams came true yesterday. The puffy sleeve sailor shirt I have been obsessing about for months (staring at it the through the boutique window, special trips to the mall where the boutique is so I can fondle it with a wistful look on my face, etc.) is mine mine mine! It is hanging in my closet - making me happy and making the other shirts cower in their non-awesome-non-puffy-sleeve-ness.

Betta (in the boutique): OMG it's on sale
Godzilla: *silence*
Betta (trying it on): Oh, should I get it? Is today the day?
Godzilla: *Exasperated* It's 50 percent! Just buy it and be done with it!
Betta (at the cash register): My dreams are coming true!
Godzilla: Well, it's not hard if you set the bar so low...

And then, dear reader, it gets better!! Godzilla spots ANOTHER sailor shirt - with lots of buttons and a strange detachable bib-thing on the front. I put it on for fun and we both ooh-ahhed at the reflection. And then when I came out of the dressing room she was paying for it on her plastic.

Godzilla: Present.
Betta: OMG. No? Rilly? No I can't. No you can't! No? Rilly? OMG
Godzilla: At least you can wear this one out.
Betta: OMG. Sniff. (Ignoring not-so-subtle insult to personal tastes)

Sigh. I wore bib-front to dinner yesterday, feeling like the Queen of the Nile.

I AM SO HAPPY. Ok baibai, I got to work now.

Happy Post 03 - Tomatomania

2008-07-05T22:15:00.007+08:00

Ok, so three Happy Posts in a row are probably pushing it. But it's either that, or I write about how my first day back in KL already has me in tears. Yes dear reader, real tears - of frustration, fear and just... unhappiness. I want to say: it's this city. But this city is not my enemy, according to a song by J.K. it's just like a reckless friend. Looking down at Klang river from the LRT the other day was the same as looking into a mirror. I felt exactly like all that muddy, smelly water rushing and rushing somewhere... not knowing where, just going on, hoping to find a way to the open sea. Are you thinking of that scene in Spirited Away where the River God comes in for a bath? Me too...

Anyway, feast your eyes on Newt's home-grown tomatoes. They are red, big, how else can I say it, BULBOUS. So full of the sun and the earth - doesn't it make you realize that really the earth moves around the sun, which is a great star burning off energy? All that - just to have a tomato. It's amazing. As I said to Newt, I may come off with a readable poem now and then, but she grows TOMATOES.

Happy Post 02 - Selamat Membogel

2008-07-05T13:40:00.005+08:00

I can't remember the last time I wanted to

...take all my clothes off and run naked down a mountain lane with absolutely nowhere to go and nothing to do. No doubt insects would be a concern, but on the upside - no tan-lines.

Well that's exactly how I felt during a recent trip up a mountain in Penang, where I will be spending the latter part of the year on an artist residency. I must say the accommodations are a little cell-like, a little heavy on the exposed concrete aesthetic, if you get my meaning. But I'm a big girl and I can take it, besides, it's nothing that a few feminine touches of domesticity can't make good again.

I was dreading this trip due to the insane amounts of work to be done back in KL, but once I caught sight of the sea, I could physically - let me emphasize this - physically register the immediate drop in stress levels. My phone kept ringing on the drive all the way up the hill, continued throughout the day in my little hut - and yet, I didn't feel like flinging my head into a wall. It was as if... hahah, they can reach me but can't get me! Hahahahha.

As I was saying, I wanted to take off my clothes and say to the sun: hello! Look at me! Yup, every god-blessed naked inch. Except that there ARE caretakers living on the mountain too and I didn't want to be rude.

I ate, bathed, finished the rest of Jose Saramago's extraordinary book Seeing in one sitting, I ate somemore, smoked (I actually enjoyed every cancerous breath, as opposed to needing the drug to steel my unsteady nerves), stared into space, walked. When night fell the jungle seemed to close in around me with its sounds and velvet darkness. I got a little scared then, but I put the light on, crawled under my mosquito net and fell into blessed, dreamless sleep.

I am back in KL again. My back aches, my head aches. My heart aches.

But at least I know what I was made for: getting stoned, happy, creative and butt naked. What an affirmation.

PS. still on basics with blogger, so no pics, not even topless ones. Sorry!

Happy Post 01 - Happy Cooking

2008-07-01T21:40:00.003+08:00

Updated: Here is a picture of Chez Jacques (on the left) with a good friend of his. This picture of two old men sitting by a river fills my bosom with a strange mix of lust and extreme good-will. Do visit his website www.jacquespepin.net for free recipes and cooking tips like how to properly sharpen a knife or how to chop parsley.

-

So I have been quite unhappy lately, as if it takes a genius to figure out from my recent posts here. To alleviate the steady stream of misery, I have decided to introduce a new series called Happy Posts. My life right now is an exhausting ride of high highs and inexplicable lows, but there are quiet and simple things which I enjoy too - which I will try to share in my Happy Posts. Happy reading.

-

One thing that relieves this heaviness that I sometimes get in my head is watching Jacques Pepin's cooking show 'Fast Food My Way'. He is one of the world's top chefs, a master in French cuisine. Unlike big-dick cooks like Gordon 'F-word' Ramsay, Anthony Bourdain and Jamie Oliver , he makes cooking seem like the most joyful and natural thing in the world and even the worst food-dummy would find it impossible to be intimidated by him. I especially remember watching him kill a live lobster on TV with consummate grace and skill, and thinking to myself: I could do that. Yes, including the Lobster Fricassee which followed.

But I'm a lousy vegetarian, so I want to give you a fail-safe Jacques Pepin recipe for pasta primavera, or a pasta salad. I should know, because I just made it tonight! It is simple, healthy and delicious and it will make you feel better about life.

You'll need:
3/4 bag of pasta (I like to use big shells or bow-ties)
1 tub of fresh button mushrooms
3 small narrow English cucumbers (here, we can get Japanese ones - they're dark and knobbly)
1 big bag of cherry tomatoes (because generally our normal tomatoes are hateful and tasteless)
I bag of sweet basil leaves
olive oil
salt
cracked black pepper
some garlic

First heat a pot of water for the pasta. Add about 1 tsp salt to the water - for taste and to lower the boiling point.

As the water is boiling, prepare your vegetables. Have a big bowl ready because the whole salad will be mixed in there. Halve the cherry tomatoes. Slice mushrooms. Slice cucumbers quite thinly. (to prepare cucumbers, cut off both ends then rub the cut-offs against the ends of the cucumber to draw out the bitterness. Use a peeler to peel of 3 sections of skin so that you make a pretty pattern when you slice it). Tear basil leaves into rough pieces. Put all of this in the big bowl. Add olive oil, salt and pepper. Also add some chopped garlic (not too much ok? Maybe 1 small clove. All you want is a hint of it because this is a very fresh-tasting salad).

While you're preparing your vegetables, the water will have come to the boil. Add your pasta and cook for approx. 11 - 14mins, stirring constantly. Do not overcook your pasta - you want it to be al dente, which means it has some bite to it, but it is not still crunchy (crunchy means it's not cooked!).

Here is a secret tip. After your vegetables are ready, take two small scoops of the water that the pasta is boiling in and spoon it over the vegetables to soften them. This really makes it taste great.

Now drain your pasta, stir some olive oil through it to keep it from sticking. Add the pasta to your bowl of vegetables and olive oil. Toss well. Season to your taste. Voila!

I like to add cheese to mine to make it more filling. You can add some ham, bacon or sliced sausage.

The measurements I give here are for a whopping big bowl - something that will last you for days. So if you want less, you may want to halve everything.

Happy cooking.

-

PS. The editing functions are not working in blogger, hence no linking and images. Will be rectified soon.

My first year in fear

2008-06-30T11:21:00.002+08:00

You have to understand that suffering does not make better art. Suffering - whether physical or mental pain - makes work difficult or impossible. I hate to spend any more time on suffering than what it already takes up - I hate to write or talk or make art about it.

What makes better art? Not talent. Talent makes good (great) art possible. Practice makes better art. In fact, when it comes to art, maybe even life, I think stubbornness trumps talent every time.

-

I remember I used to approach things with a sort of fearlessness. I have a Christian Boltanski quote about artist fear: 'I'm always a beginner, and the most important thing is always the next piece. We artists never know if we can do it again. You have done something - and most of the time I hate what I have done a few years ago - and you don't know if you can do something now. The good artists are usually the very young or the very old. The ones who are very young are so stupid that they have no fear. And when they are very old they aren't afraid any more. In the meantime, you are always, always, afraid.'

The thing about fearlessness is that you're not being particularly brave, it's just that it never occurs to you that you'll never NOT be able to make anything. Until recently, I thought I could go on producing things forever until the day I died - at a pace only hampered by physical limitations. I'd get tired - of myself, of what I did - but never scared.

This is my first year living with fear. It's like going to sleep in your own bed and waking up in someone else's house where everything feels strange and unsure. I remember meeting A.C. for the first time on the steps of a gallery I used to work in. I'd heard all about him - talented, sensitive, success at a young age - and then, a breakdown. We didn't speak for very long, but I really liked his eyes, even though they looked a bit wild.

When you go over the edge, you're never the same again. You can recover, maybe become older and wiser, but you can't go back to who you were. Sometimes you regret it terribly, because it's all you want to do - to go back and begin again before all that wasted time and energy. But I've met some people who come back and they live in their own skin again, whole and complete. There's never a guarantee.

Whatever it is, you have to try and make sure that you don't let yourself go over the edge, ok?

Updates

2008-06-26T15:38:00.003+08:00

I'm working on a moon. A paper moon, to be exact.

I'm reading Seeing by Jose Saramago.

I'm listening to a house filled with music. The oldies have a huge reunion going on and our living room is overflowing with old bandmates. It warms the cockles of my heart to hear them rehearsing for a performance. It makes me think - of a dream that everyone has, some destination you've always had in your head, which you'll have until you lay down to rest for the last time... and everything depends how near or far you are to that destination at the end.

Also, you know, our parents really did have better music.

I'm wearing my silk shirt with a big ribbon bow at the neck (Z.: 'It keeps getting bigger!'), and new short short hair.

I'm visiting these two sites: Tongue In Chic for clothes and Muxtape.com for music.

I need

2008-06-25T23:03:00.001+08:00

a holiday

Medley

2008-06-16T12:21:00.003+08:00

Haven't felt like posting here too much lately. Lots of shit going down in my universe; it's a regular cosmic storm and I'm waiting for the planets to align themselves again. A few fleeting impressions:

The weather has been unaccountably pleasant recently. Someone attributed it to less drivers on the road due to the recent fuel price hike. Oh B., love your optimism darling, but it will take more than a few lousy Ringgit to prise Malaysians away from their vehicles of mass destruction (I know because I'm one of them). So I have been waking up to balmy, windy mornings and watching pretty evenings dissolve into night. It's lovely, but I've always found that good weather mocks my less than happy disposition.

'If you know about life, you hang on tight and don't let go'. Can't remember where I read that, but it's stuck somehow.

The wonderful Edward Winkleman has posted about confronting that squirm-in-your-pants awkward can't-remember-your-name situation. It is so nice to and reassuring to know that even seasoned, suave gallerists are human too! The sweetest part is that his partner Bambino jumps in to save him when he notices that Ed is in trouble! Yes, having a partner like that puts social faux pas into perspective - what's a little embarrassment when you know someone's always got your back.

'And he knew he would love her until the very last syllable of recorded time'. '...the very last syllable of recorded time' - in the whole of Patrick O'Brian's 16 volume opus I think that phrase stands out as a true gem. What does 'forever' mean to you?

I have a theory. Here it is: that people who come from broken families have very intense and skewed views on love and life. In my experience, I can tell pretty much instantly if someone is like me. They're often likeable, proud, willing to please, secretive and stubborn. Sometimes things like trust and loyalty feel like a matter of life and death to me, and there are subtle divisions and demarcations of honour and love that seem to be of such inflated importance as to seem pathological. As the years go by, you realize your parents are only human - flawed beings who did the best they could from what they had. From there, you have to decide to move on, or perpetuate destructive cycles which go back only Buddha knows how long. Sometimes you swing so wildly in the opposite direction - you want to try so very hard to overcome some perceived flaw or wrong, to convince yourself you are not, will not, will never be like them. If you are beautiful, if you are intelligent, successful, charming and friendly and loyal and nice then perhaps you can make it better. But no, only love can make whole the various hurts that the absence of love has caused. Unfortunately people who are unhappy never believe they deserve anything they haven't worked hard for.

So go give any control freaks you know a hug today. It's only a defense mechanism, they often can't help it.

That's why I love my work so much, too much. Because it loves me back exactly the same amount. It is mathematical, reliable 'until the very last syllable of recorded time'. So much of my ego is invested in it, that when I can't work I feel like I am dying.

I remember something D. said to me once: 'It's not your fault'. Devastated, there was only one other conclusion for me: 'Then it must be yours'.

Ah, hmmm. Anyways.

To me, art is...

2008-06-10T12:53:00.006+08:00

First of all, clearing a space for a studio.

And then you might let it sit idle for a long time, because you can't bear to go into a room that's made specially for work, and see it so completely bare.

Because, what if... you never make anything again?

Then one day you'll go there and maybe there will be things to do and maybe there won't.

Right now, there's nothing to do. So I'm waiting. Sticking things up on the wall, curling up like a rodent on the floor, feeling somewhat like a hedgehog - prickly on the outside, raw and squishy on the inside.

The sun glints off the solar panel of my neighbour's roof, grey clouds overhead. I am tired of running all over the place chasing ideas, so I am going to sit here and wait.

Listening to: Fela Kuti, Shuffering and Smiling
'I want you all to please take your minds out of these music contraptions
and put your minds into any goddamn church, any goddamn mosque...'

What I'd like

2008-06-01T19:08:00.009+08:00

For the seas
I'd like a ship
old, but weatherly
with two eyes
always looking outward

Shorebound
I'd like a circus tent
colourful, but shabby
with a noble blue pennant
calling me home under the evening sky

For love
I'd like a sturdy rope
in steady hands
long enough for every journey
strong enough at each return

For the future
I'd like a another day
lengthy, but fruitful
and a chance
to see you again

For now
I'd like a prayer
Silent, colourless and weightless
for all these things
I think I'd like
I think I'd need
To live the life I want

For Z.

Independence

2008-05-26T19:58:00.004+08:00

Today filled me up
like a full river
lying in a cup that's too small

Tonight is a hollow boat
on a trickling stream
far from the sea

Too much
Not enough

-

Some nights the tattoo on my back tingles and burns - it wants to tear itself off the skin with longing for a horizon line. Here in my room in my house in my housing estate with the view of the neighbours opposite, and the apartments beyond that, and the telephone towers beyond that, and the dirty night beyond that, and the stars that hang in it, winking and teasing. Love is in the rooms, sleeping in the beds, cooking in the kitchen. But the sea and the stars, the moon, the great big world calling: books are not enough, love is not enough. Home is not enough. Home is my warm stomach, my dying pet, waking up in the morning to find yourself planted with the roots of a tree - demanding love, trust, time, effort. Home is too much.

I feel like a box with a curse inside it, and a picture of a ship drawn on the lid like a magic seal. I look at it looking out at the world - both cure and disease.

I wonder about my mysterious grandmother. Maybe it's her living inside me.

It doesn't judge

2008-05-20T12:12:00.004+08:00

I got given a little digital chia pet, and I'm lovin' it. So much so I hope I don't water it to death. It comforts me during these dark deadline days, by saying things like 'wat up dog', not to mention just sitting there all by its cutesome.

?

2008-05-20T00:04:00.007+08:00

I'm going to write you a poem about art
and this is it:

It's midnight
in my city
I'm two rooms
with a window in the wall
the world's in one
sleeping on the floor
nothing's in the other
except the door.

Laying traps

2008-05-16T14:23:00.004+08:00

Put a word out onto the forest floor. It can be any forest. Tie a piece of thread around it. Will it to take a walk. If you try hard enough it will start to move. It may take days or weeks. If you get tired of waiting, find another spot in the forest (maybe find another forest). Lay another word out. Will THAT to take a walk. Repeat as long as things remain static. Keep trying. Don’t worry, once one of them moves just a little, the others will follow, because you've tied them together! Hunt, kill and feast.

Maturin II

2008-05-12T02:56:00.002+08:00

After I collected my degree (it's still rolled up somewhere, I don't know where), came home and started making art, I thought I'd never want to do anything else. It makes my life so fun and meaningful because I get to indulge in whatever obsession of the moment - barricade tape, ships, tattoos, footballs, astronomy, metronomes.

Progressively, it's been getting more meaningful but less fun. I don't know how that happened. The other night I divulged a secret to T.W. - I often make things thinking of the object first, and then insert some kind of 'message' - that's how 'Executive Toy' came about: you see, all I wanted to do was make ceramic balls and paint on them. Yeah, I know. This post is doing myself no favours.

I've been thinking seriously about going to fashion school next year. My unborn label 'Maturin ' has been on my mind constantly in the past couple of months. I don't want to be in the fashion industry. I don't have a passion for that, no passion to 'be on top'. I only want to make clothes and other things that are crafted with a bit of care and integrity. I look at all the stuff that's in these cute new boutiques today and I have no idea where they come from - which factory in China or Indonesia? Cheap fabrics, poor stitching. Clothes you wear for 2 months and throw out after. It's terrible. And then there are the big clothing companies like GAP and TopShop - although they're better designed, they're still not built to last. I'm lucky enough that I can fit my late grandmother's clothes perfectly - they're probably more than half a century old. The colors are as bright as ever, the edge binding shows no signs of fraying, seams and hems are perfectly intact, even the damn buttons refuse to come off!

I think when you make something like that, something beautiful and useful, it defies the ostentatious and gratuitous commercialism that has come to define the fashion industry. I don't want someone to tell me the meaning of value and luxury. That's why Maturin will be a fashion label, NOT a brand. It's just another reason and avenue to do things my way - independent, self-starting and sustainable. I think that buying good things makes you buy less things. My personal wardrobe is pretty small, and unlikely to grow much bigger.

Anyway, these are just the 3am thoughts of an artist who hasn't been using her hands enough the past six months.

Grace

2008-05-08T01:29:00.005+08:00

I've been caught in free-lancer's nightmare the past week, feeling as if Rome is burning down around me. Money woes, exhaustion, fatigue, ill health, low spirits, anxiety, frequent and inexplicable tears, guilt (did you know 10,000 people are dead from the cyclone that hit Myanmar? My friend M.S. is safe, thanks be). But I've been shown a great deal of kindness and understanding, including gifts, financial advice, love and a particularly generous and gentle email from an editor I swear has been enduring my deadline caprices month after month. Sometimes I do wish things were hard enough to drive me off across the sea to better lands, but there it is. I'm here to stay. Love and warm wishes wafting your way into the cybersphere.

I wants me a...

2008-05-07T00:38:00.003+08:00

JUMPSUIT!

This one's from Baby Phat, but mine would be black or navy blue stretch satin with a row of buttons all the way down to...

No hooker heels, no jewelry, just a bare feet or some flat shoes. OMG so much fun.

Yes yes yes. I don't care what you say! Jumpsuit!

Tools

2008-05-06T16:52:00.003+08:00

My brain is sore and tired.

This has gotten me out of more than a few work-related adversities. It's helped me out for the past ten years, the best advice I have ever heard:

Out of clutter, find simplicity.
From discord, find harmony.
In the middle of difficulty, lies opportunity.

- Albert Einstein's rules of work.

Ghosts II

2008-05-03T19:02:00.004+08:00

You must be feeling the way I'm feeling
Cos' I haven't thought about you in a long time
You must be crying the way I'm crying
Cos' I haven't cried about you in a long time

I don't know, someone else can write the verses. All I want to do is lie here and think mean things.

Everyday magicks

2008-05-02T10:59:00.003+08:00

Yesterday I cracked open an egg for my breakfast and lo! It had two yolks. I was very excited and scrambled for a camera to document the phenomenon, but couldn't find one. So you are just gonna have to take my word for it. And enjoy this here freaky picture of triple double yolks I found on the innernets.

The omellete I made was pretty much the same, if a little egg-ier.

It's LABOUR DAY for fuck's sake

2008-05-01T17:02:00.004+08:00

Betta throws up her hands in disgust at herself, abandons work and goes for a walk in the park.

Moving

2008-04-30T16:16:00.003+08:00

I am seriously considering a sort-of permanent move to Penang around 2009 - 2010. This *clicky* is just one reason why. The other is the sea of course. The insane stress of KL life caps it all.

You comin'?

Painting

2008-04-30T10:45:00.006+08:00

A friend was trying to convince me to do a painting show. (She was so persuasive) I said, ok. I'll do it. You know what I'll paint? Unicorns. That's all I'll paint. Unicorns unicorns unicorns. Unicorns drinking, fucking, dancing, sleeping, walking, dying. Unicorns everywhere. People will love it. I'll cover the city in unicorns. No, the world! Palestine. Turkey. Burma. Sydney. Kuala Lumpur.

Yes, you take my word for it. One day. Don't say you weren't warned. Unicorns are the next big thing (for me).

Comfort zone

2008-04-29T22:54:00.004+08:00

Instead of green zones and combat zones, we should (we must) have comfort zones. A proposal: that no combat must be allowed to happen when people are sleeping. When you are sleeping, there can be no fighting; you are invisible, you are dreaming, you are given universal amnesty. Yes, be you murderous dictator or homeless thief, let there be a law unto all humanity: you shall sleep in safety, without fear.

Note to self: make a bed that is also a room. Let it be on wheels. It can move around. People can crawl inside it wherever they find one.

Yin thoughts

2008-04-29T15:15:00.011+08:00

Am I the only one who thinks Britney's 'Piece of Me' is a really good song?

-

Frank Lloyd Wright's Monument to Haroun Al-Rashid

Caliph Haroun Al Rashid used to walk the streets of ancient Baghdad disguised as an ordinary citizen. I want to do that. I want to walk without fear in every corner of my city, not scared of murderers or rapists or drug dealers. Maybe if you're not afraid of being hurt, mentally or physically, then nothing will happen to you. Sometimes I think there are two mes in this body. One is completely crazy and reckless, I'll do anything it takes for anything or just for a thrill, I swear. Even if you're close to me, you don't now how close I am to this crazy person inside me. The only thing that holds me back is that I actually care about people. Maybe when I do crazy things it hurts others because they thought they knew you well. That's why disguise, fantasy and make-believe is necessary. I really wonder how much violence I am capable of. I don't like killing insects, but that's because of my Buddhist upbringing. I swear, it's because of Buddhism that I am better equipped to deal with the... utter solidity of reality. It's more violence of emotions that I'm thinking of. I don't want to be violent towards life or people, I don't have those kinds of kinks, but I do want to do things that are very irrational. I once told someone, who told me I was beautiful and asked me if I was a model, that I was a prostitute, just for the fun of it. He wasn't amused and walked away in disgust. Hey, that's too bad, I just wanted to play, you know? I get really disappointed when people don't get a proposed game. But then some sick people don't understand that it's only a game. Hmm. You can't have it both ways, Betta, people tell me. But fuck that. I think that you can have it this way, that way, or any fucking way you want if that's what turns you on. 'This world... is solid through and through', I remember that from a movie I watched. Sometimes I feel like I am drugged, how calm and rational I get is only a measure of a huge sea inside me that is pushing and pulling in all directions like a big storm breaking. You could probably label me 'the one most likely to run away and join the circus'. But I was born into a newer world, freaks have 'scenes' now, you know! I hate all scenes. I like freaks, real freaks. And there aren't anymore circuses... if you want you have to invent your own. You know why I like Miyazaki's films so much, because you can sort of tell that they are just like, 10 percent of this person's vast inner world that's filled with monsters, treasure, freaks, pain and pleasure. I don't have a problem being alone or being ignored at all, I can constantly amuse myself. I am not afraid of dying. Something in the world is getting darker - more lies and pain. Really sick kind of pain - torture, imprisonment. I think people just don't know what to do with themselves. Their imaginations are dead.

-

La Luna chair by Kenneth Cobonpue

The moon. La luna... she knows me, doesn't she.

Desire

2008-04-22T14:39:00.005+08:00

Damn, Phillip Lim is definitely one of my favorite labels. He is just SO GOOD. Look at this dress!

3.1 Phillip Lim Infinitely Pleated Tulip Cocoon Dress

Oh yes, I'm sure I heard a collective sigh of desire from every girl (and maybe a guy or two - you know who you are) out there.

besfren

2008-04-22T11:45:00.003+08:00

Just another late-night drunken conversation:

Betta: Acceptance, huh? You know, for you, I would seriously hide a body. Like, seriously. I'd be like, ok, sure. You could definitely come to me.

Godzilla: Yeah, so would I. I would give you crap about it, but I too would help you dispose of a dead body. However I wouldn't accept you using cocaine. Cos' that's like suicide.

Free lancing

2008-04-22T11:13:00.006+08:00

Are you a free-lancer? Do you recognize this deadly cycle:

Deadline crush > Angry mob demanding completion of project > Stress levels skyrocket > Project completed by dint of miracle (with 10 more to go) > Heavy drinking

Knock back another scotch and press repeat. Watch health and efficiency levels decline steadily. Personal grooming goes to the dogs as well.

I miss making art.

MATAHATI: For Your Pleasure - unresolved thoughts

2008-04-19T11:34:00.003+08:00

This is a long post I am writing to hopefully clear the confusion in my head.

Writing a concise review about the recently concluded Matahati retrospective is turning out to be a torturous, laborious exercise. I've heard that your brain hurting is a sign that it's working, but I do wish it wouldn't hurt so bad.

Basically I am trying to weave about 5 or 6 related ideas together, but they keep slipping through my fingers. If I compartmentalize maybe it will make more sense. Any comments are very much welcomed. Here we go:

On institutionalism and scale:
The mega scale of this exhibition and the fact that it's hosted by an institution (as opposed to being a commercial or independent endeavor) means two things: accessibility and recognition. Both mean different things to the public and the arts community.

On accessibility and recognition:
Both accessibility and recognition signify Matahati being situated in the 'mainstream'. It's important to distinguish the between the two because it gives us a clearer notion of what 'mainstream' really means - it's not some monolith center characterized by popularity, but is actually very complex.

Recognition acknowledges the importance of Matahati in an art historical context. When they emerged in the 1990s, their work (along with contemporaries like Tan Chin Kuan and Zulkifli Yusof) was seen to be a reaction against state-sponsored Malay revivalism and Islamisation. If during the 80s and 90s, forms of expression that embodied Malay-muslim culture were seen to be the 'mainstream', then Matahati's use of the figure, the straightforward expression of social, political and economic issues was seen in opposition to that - they were in the periphery.

This huge retrospective seems to indicate that Matahati has moved from being 'alternative' into the 'mainstream', but only in a limited sense! It is true that they are celebrated in the arts community, and their works are highly sought after by collectors. But what does this mean for the general public? I'm willing to wager that for the majority of Malaysians, this retrospective is their first contact with the works of Matahati.

Which tells us that this idea of 'mainstream' has changed drastically since the 1970s. Let me explain. The 1971 National Cultural Congress and resulting National Cultural Policy in effect proscribed what our culture should embody: it should be Malay and it should be Islamic. For all its flaws, it put forward a proposal that culture should be at the very center of society, that it played a vital role in the forming of communities.

The fact is that, today, due to the failure of public art institutions and art education, art has become marginalized amongst the general public. However misguided it may have been, NCP's championing of abstract and decorative art (as opposed to social-realism) was truly socially engaged. The long-lasting effect of this cultural policy on the nation's public as well as artistic psyche is testament to the possibility of artists playing a central role in their community.

The situation today: you have art that is socially engaged in CONTENT (exemplified by this Matahati exhibition), but is unable to engage with its audience. Economic, cultural and critical vitality has migrated to the former 'periphery' (evidenced in the growth of commercial galleries, private collectors and art initiatives), leaving the mainstream institutions hollow. Don't kid yourselves, however! The center remains, it's simply dead. This is no reason to rejoice. While the vitality of the art scene means great things for artists - growing opportunities coming from the international and regional scenes, as well as the private art market means that increasingly, artists can be independent - it is the audience who are losing out. The gap between the arts and its audience is widening every day. It is ironic and rather heart breaking that as the art scene grows bigger and stronger, our audience is not growing with us. No one who is an artist or who loves art likes seeing people poke at paintings, but can we really blame them?

Which is why this exhibition is significant. To a certain extent, it bridges the vast gap between socially engaged art and the actual society it is trying to engage. It implicitly demonstrates the importance of and hitherto vacuum that has been left by public art institutions because of incompetence, mismanagement and apathy.

So, what now for art practitioners? Will you easily abandon the freedom of independent practice and channel your energy and talent towards the institutional center where it is much needed? Certainly it wasn't very long ago that Galeri Petronas was simply another white elephant hosting the occasional desultory exhibition on nature photography.

So when we talk about 'mainstream', let's just be sure we're not cutting that pie too small.

Hallelujah

2008-04-16T00:27:00.003+08:00

Bai bai MyFace. Good while it lasted. I feel so light.

Betta talks to Mum

2008-04-15T10:42:00.005+08:00

(A project in the works for ThisIsCurating 1 - 40, curated by Joel Mu at First Draft, Sydney)

Mum, born 1952, Kuala Lumpur
Likes gardening, Tai Chi, tea drinking, reading and writing.

On Untitled (Footballs), 2006:
Footballs…
Yes.
There’s always something about your work, Betta, that’s suspended. I’m sure that there’s some, um, some meaning to that. Looking at the short description that comes with any piece of work, going by the title itself, will already give an indication. But to actually ask what it means, that’s for each one of us to interpret.

On Drawing Machine, 2006:
Do you know what it is?
Well it can be many things; it’s um, a simple device, for making circular shapes.
That’s true.
It’s also adjustable. And it seems to emulate a clock.
It is a clock mum!
Oh! Heeheehee.
Heeheehee, you like that?

On having an artist child:
So how do feel about having an artist as your child?
A pleasant surprise…
Oh, why is that?
…And it continues to be a surprise.
It doesn’t require a whole lot of understanding, or sacrifice as a parent. We just go along with what you’re doing.
[Both laugh]

On Making Night, 2006:
The making of night itself is supposed to be very, very complex. So many things have to come together before it can happen. It was the simplicity of it that struck me most.
Is it a bit god-like, you think?
[Long pause] No.
Are you sure?
Yes, I’m sure.

On Mare Clausum (Closed Sea), 2006:
It may seem all over the place, but actually there’s a certain balance to it. And the multi levels and layers, there are so many ways of interpreting it. I don’t see it in that real sense of sailing. It’s just floating, lifting oneself, perhaps even dreaming, or daring to dream. When I actually saw it at the exhibition, it was quite astounding, the space that was taken up, and the effect was so immediate. You could straight away know that this work has something to do with spaciousness.