Abelardo Morell makes damn gorgeous camera obscura photographs.
The Chrystler Building in Hotel Room, 1997
The Grand Tetons in Resort Room, 1997
Camera Obscura: View of Central Park Looking North-Fall, 2008
Grand Canal Looking West Toward the Accademia Bridge in Palazzo Room Under Construction, 2007
(Photographs from artist’s site)
Painting to See the Skies
Smoke Painting
Painting for the Wind
I’ve liked Yoko Ono’s early instruction paintings since I read about them in uni, and have always thought them as undeservedly overlooked (I guess it is kinda hard to see beyond the fact that she was dating the Beatle). Simple in form, yet richly imaginative (well, as imaginative as you wish to be). Okay, I just realised why I can never be an art critic or commentator. I like! Actually I like them so much that they would go on my ‘Art that changed my life’ meme, if there is indeed one.
I had planned this entry to be one on my sewing Sunday, one where I would be able to extol, at relative length and with adequate pride, my brand new blouse. Unfortunately, due to foreseen but unovercomeable circumstances, that piece of garment did not materialise. It did at some point resemble an effort at making a blouse, but that was about as far as it would go. If a blouse works like a skirt, I would be a lot more pleased with myself, but as sartorial principles and basic anatomical knowledge go, a blouse needs armholes. And armholes, my dears, are as tricky as balancing a pencil on the tip of your nose while having it tickled by a feather plucked from a rooster who knows why it doesn’t crow in the morning. Tricky business.
Instead of moaning over things I can’t (yet) do, let’s move on to something I do extremely well. Buying books. Is that a special skill? Nah. Is it something difficult? Well, it does get less and less easy with every try, especially when the month is approaching its third week, but on most occasions, it is a relatively simple task. I reckon I must have bought at least 30 books since the start of the year, which is probably more than what I bought for the whole of last year. What is slightly comforting is that while I must have read fewer than 10 books last year (magazines do not count. I want them to, but they have withdrawn from the competition, citing the presence of advertising and other evils, which include, but are not limited to, a monthly rehashing of content), this year I have mostly been keeping up with my purchases. Until last week, I guess.
So far, this has been a year of Murakami and David Sedaris. Very different styles, which worked out just fine because I was alternating between the both of them. I would read a Murakami novel, get all sad and depressed and weirded out, then switch to Sedaris who would, on more than one occasion, had me wishing I had spoken more kindly of people who laugh to themselves on train rides so that I would, on the convenient account of karma and whatnots, be exempted from their disdainful glances. I ran out of Sedaris before I could finish Murakami’s novels though, so there was a period of general moodiness. I also started reading ‘Watchmen’ but that, despite being an excellent read, wasn’t exactly uplifting as well.
Probably a common thing, but once I find an author I like, I tend to want to polish off everything that he or she has ever written. There was a J.D. Salinger phase (secondary school to first year of poly), even though he didn’t write a lot (Save J.D. Salinger’s Archives!). I loved ‘The Catcher in the Rye’, duh, and quite frankly, a good deal of my writing compositions then were very Holden-Caulfield wannabe. Phony, I guess. Oh well. I remembered loving ‘Franny and Zooey’ too and ‘Nine Stories’ was probably my first foray into short stories (my preference for short stories would eventually become an excuse for not reading longer works). For some reason though, I never got around to reading ‘Seymour’. I have it, but it is still wrapped in plastic with a Towers Record price tag. Odd.
(I also went through a Milan Kundera phase, though nothing of note has remained in my brain. It is very strange. I probably read half of what he has, but nothing really comes to mind now. I vaguely remember someone dancing in a mental asylum. It is scary how completely I forget some stuff.)
And then there was a Banana Yoshimoto phase. Oh! I found Lizard! It was a large paperback though. My other books are normal paperbacks. Sigh. Anyway, ‘Kitchen’ and ‘Moonlight Shadow’!, and ‘Goodbye Tsugumi’!! Her short stories! My eloquence is unparalleled.
Verbosity rules when you don’t have to verbalise words, and it makes mindless entries look impressively long (yes, this is a redundant mention of length) and thoughtful. And when you get bored, you can just end off with some random pictures:
(“Joge-e 上下絵, or ‘two-way pictures,’ are a type of woodblock print that can be viewed either rightside-up or upside-down.”)
(Joge-e images and writeup from here)
Saw Xavier Comas‘ Pasajero as part of the TransportAsian exhibition at the Singapore Art Museum this evening. Thought it was pretty good stuff, and I made a point to remember his name (and its spelling) so I could google when I get home. I really like his works, especially his series Jiutamai 地唄舞 (Jiutamai being a form of Japanese classical dance).
From Pasajero:
From Jiutamai:
(All images from artist’s site)
So, the days of intermittent internet connection are still upon this household. The situation hasn’t gotten worse, but that is hardly any cause for joy because it sure ain’t getting better fast enough. Getting cut off every 3-5 minutes is not fun, nor is it an expected feature of our subscription. Our fingers sure don’t need the exercise that we have so patiently endured for the past four days, when we have to perpetually keep an eye on the connection status icon so that when it starts to blink again, we get a window of 2 minutes to refresh all our dead tabs before the connection dies again. So, dear Starhub, I sure don’t need PR-ish words to make me feel better. All I need and want from you, right from the start (it’s like you haven’t been listening!) is a fast and stable connection that I pay for every month.
In better news, my ibook which I gave up for dead in 2005 is once again alive! Thanks to a kind, generous, brilliant and regal friend who helped to swap a new hard disk and reinstall the OS. Woohoo. I think my cold war with this laptop is now officially over (yup, typing this from the relative comfort of my bed. Posture is all wrong but one night wouldn’t kill, I guess).
It is odd. I used to not like working on the laptop very much, but I am quite enjoying myself now. The screen is tiny (12″) and everything I dislike about the laptop has also been revived, but somehow this is a much better experience. Maybe it is enjoying the much privileged status of being a new-old toy. Maybe it’s got to do with the fact that I have another computer that I can go torture, should the need for more processing juice arise, but this is not bad for just doing light mindless tasks.
Went for a Film Fest screening yesterday afternoon. Laila’s Birthday was a great show. A light-hearted show set in much less cheerful circumstances, and there is much optimism even when the propensity for the opposite seems to rear its head at every turn (and for good reason too).
(But dear lady who was sitting next to me and yammering randomly through the entire show: Shut up, please. No one really cares for your observations. He’s having a nervous breakdown? We aren’t blind, and we aren’t deaf. If your friend happens to possess the emotional and intellectual capacity of a walnut, knowing that there is illy coffee in Palestine won’t do her much good. Really, that’s his taxi? Gee, didn’t see that coming. Actually, you know what, I think your friend wanted you to keep quiet too. You are the pistachio.)
During the summer of 2009, one thousand artists from around the world will document their lives in 24 frames using a simple disposable camera with a flash.
On September 25th, 2009, an exhibition housing over 24,000 photographs will be constructed to take you on an adventure through the lives of these thousand artists.
Sounds fun.
A fox uncomfortable
A book is good
Skeletor spirit
Ghost Patrol’s Pencil Sets are rather (very) endearing. I want to send my colour pencils to him.
(Images from Ghostpatrol)
Amazing dioramas from Thomas Doyle.
Click on each to see a close up view, or visit his site to see more.
Residue
The Reprisal
Personal Effects
Acceptable Losses
