mapping constellations in my dreams

portraits

by Racheal Anilyse


was watching a TED Talk about The Art of the Interview and something interesting was said, "people don't get their portraits painted anymore," and how true. because i guess to a certain extent, photography makes it more convenient to capture one's portrait now. i'm not demeaning the value of portrait photography, but drawn/painted portraits are certainly something to 'wow' over.

it is not easy to capture someone, as photos or paintings, and make it look like them, and yet, not. because to a certain extent, portraits do not necessarily capture the person, but more of his or her persona. a fragment of who they are, their inner states of mind. the emotion that they're emoting. the translated thought. the conditions. a non-face. a permutation. essentially, what makes a portrait powerful is what it says. the face is a canvas to the greater conversations between cosmos.

artist feature | David Michael Bowers | site

girl growing in a tree | 09'

stereotyping slaps ye in the face

i hop into a cab from uni and the taxi driver engages in a conversation, as usual.

taxi driver: so you study in NUS. smart huh.
me: no lah. it's just NUS.
taxi driver: you're Malaysian right?
me: huh? no i'm Singaporean. 
taxi driver: really? oh. cos usually Malays in Singapore aren't that smart. they don't go to uni.
me: what? you're wrong. there are loads of Malays in NUS. 
taxi driver: really? seldom see them.
me: that's because the majority of the people in this country are Chinese. so of cos it's hard to see a lot of us 'minorities'. besides, i'm Indian. not Malay.
taxi driver: huh? you're Indian. then how come you're wearing the scarf thing?
me: that's cos i'm Muslim. Indian Muslim.
taxi driver: ooh! but you're quite fair also, huh? and no wonder you're smart. Indians are very smart.
me: how do you know? you see a lot of Indians in NUS, is it?
taxi driver: not really. (pause) i'm very confusing ah. (laughs).
me: yeah you are. 

stereotypes confuse. don't buy into them.

the mermaid from nuruL H. on Vimeo.

The 4th Affordable Photo Fair

i can't believe i've not written on this.

the photo fair went well. learnt a lot of things. the most important being how i never seem to ask for help whenever i need it. bad habit. ought to be changed. new year resolution. noted. also learnt how to actually talk about my photographs. not an easy thing to do, despite my love for talking. also happy to have met new people and other photographers. had a lovely time talking to dennis about photography as art. but that's a different post altogether. note to self.

also feel blessed by the number of support bras that i have. my friends. they constantly keep me lifted, despite gravity. love them, laces and all.

interesting conversations. categories. commercial photography. fine art. questions. did you go to art school? what's your philosophy? some easy to answer. others, a tad hard to verbally express. that's why i have my photographs, right?

end of the day. got a tad sick. gastric. typical. but had fun and am looking forward to new projects and collaborations. hell yeah!

gut the court jesters

why is the idea of the individual, alone usually depicted as an abnormality? a state of being awaiting some sort of reconciliation, a resolution. an unfinished story. in movies, such characters are introduced as weird and eccentric, and we laugh or sympathize with them. it is depicted as incomplete in its worldly experiences. lulled in a state of void because its private parts have never been touched. the story will then end with it skipping off into a pixelated rainbow with someone it has encountered who completes it. you complete me. what an irritating concept: needing someone to complete your sense of self.

nevermore. nevermore.

it is important to have people in our lives. but people should not complete us. our attitude towards people should be akin to that of ghosts. it's fun (or not) to see them, initially, but then it would be better in the long run to be rid of them. for those we encounter, they impact our lives, experiences, and emotions and in that moment, we change. for those we don't see, we don't. but that doesn't mean that they don't exist. they still do. spirits are everywhere! and we hear about them in stories and accounts by those who do see them. and they might or might not leave any marks in our lives but either way, they're still there. and then there are those who haunt us for long periods of time and perpetually keep us on our toes. and soon we begin to feel comfortable with having them around, no matter how grotesque they are. but soon, they'll leave too. because the dead must live as the dead. because everything is momentary. momentaries. and soon, everybody leaves. and because, perhaps the only resolution in life, is death. and i don't say this in a dark, cynical, and ironical manner, muttering displeasure into fingernails that then claw out mine eyes. rather, it is matter-of-fact, isn't it?

and because people are actually selfish beings and we need to recognize that not necessarily as a bad trait but as a normal one. because each person creates her own needs and wants and for some, these needs and wants do not reside within others. i don't need you. but i love you. this does not make it wrong or pathetic. in fact, if you find yourself constantly needing that someone, or the presence of others in your lives, you're abnormal or probably deformed in some way and should proceed to chew on some bones or flesh to complete your growth process as a human being.

i am reminded again of the novel Veronika Decides to Die. everyone is essentially insane. we fill ourselves up with idiosyncratic jewels that we then conveniently transform into mere stones just because the Grand Narratives deem it so. we cast aside our court jesters, stuff their bells into their mouths and silence them. and we hide. we make ourselves feel weird, alone.

searching for the revolutionary

perhaps it's because i've grown old-er, or because i've studied for too long. 19 years. 19 freaking years, straight! but lately, it feels like every argument i hear is one that i've heard before. ideas that have been argued before. recited. reused. arguments about life, love, religion, philosophies on things, anything and everything. all of it. i know them inside out, back and front. and so, certain discussions feel unnecessary, certain 'intellectual pursuits', boring, certain 'doctrines', irritating. feels like i've reached the top of a plateau, the flat surface that makes it easy to walk on, but isn't challenging at all. after all, we've learnt to walk very early in life. the rest of our lives should be spent on using the art of walking for some other purpose.

something more revolutionary.

the search begins.

pages of minds

the Penguin Warehouse Sale

Expo Hall 6

3rd- 6th Dec

10am- 9.30pm

be there!

i love Penguin books. the papers they use smell nice. i love smelling books. i also love going to warehouse sales because it's when you get un-cracked spines, smooth pages, & cheap books. cheap being $5 to $10 for hardcovers. how beautiful is that! i also love how there is very little eye contact between people. every eye, peeled onto books, titles, names, searching, searching. a sea of faceless faces, acknowledging only through the bodily presence of the other, caught at the corners of eyes. our bodies gyrate against the tables likes waves to the shore, to and fro, to and fro. pendulums. rhythmic. collect and deposit. awe. lust. picturesque covers. 1st editions. un-cracked spines. swoon.

ahh, book people. book people are beautiful people. yeah!

"half glimpses of life"

Half of a Yellow Sun by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

i've been wanting to read this novel ever since i watched/listened to Chimamanda speak on one of the TED talks | The Danger of a Single Story. she is such an eloquent speaker. resilient beauty. it made me desperate to read her. so, i did.

the first thing i did after borrowing this book from the library was to google the Nigerian-Biafran war. i had never heard of it. for shame. equipped with a mere wiki update on the war, i started. i was immediately intrigued by the characters. they were whole. described with lavish words. i fell in love. a biased love. turned them into heroes. the beacon of all that was good. this was however, shattered. but it was a disappointment so beautiful, it only added more whole-ness to their beings. humans. being and becoming who and what they can be, shaped by their ideals; changed by their circumstances for as goes the saying, what doesn't kill you, only makes you stronger. this new-found strength can however be translated in both positive and pessimistic ways. half glimpses of life. not all that grow reach for the sky. some dig deeper into the ground, into darkness.

a thought. certain histories, calamities, genocides are constantly revisited, narrated, and thus their sacrifices, miseries, survivors repeatedly mourned, remembered through museums, memorials, movies. by those who can afford it.

but for those who can't, what become of them?

half glimpses of life