dawn and dusk 02

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

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

...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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Warm is the day
in my palm

Green is the light
in my lap

I wish I could tell you
that I love you

in colour
in heat

Like the daylight
tells me so
everyday.

(for z.)

Manifest!

Wanting:

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

But feeling:

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

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

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

Wave blinds

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

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


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


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

Mmm.

Gotta go

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

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

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

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

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

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

- John Masefield

Housecleaning

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

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

Quick notes on my next show

Annette Messager: 'Story of Dresses'

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

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

Working title: Mother.

This is NOT: a show about my mother

...includes her though.

Video, drawings, tapestries, collages.

Track down my maternal grandmother before she dies.

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

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

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

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

New fishbowl?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

All images from theselby.com

Introducing Biggie

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

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

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

Resolutions

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

*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

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. :)