Betta Under The Radar
A broken on-line papier machine
Sunday, February 26, 2006
Powerless
Awhile back there was a heated discussion on Edward Winkleman's blog* about caricatures of the Prophet Muhammad (P.B.U.H.) published in Danish newspapers. I posted a somewhat self-righteous and defensive comment along the lines of 'you westerners couldn't possibly fathom our eastern sensitivities'.
At the time I didn't wish to approach the issue solely as a 'Battle for Free Speech' debate. I felt that what was also central here (but being pushed to the side) was ownership of images or cultural symbols and their re-appropriation. The debate was being polarized into Us and Them, e.g. Eastern Tolerance versus Western Free Speech. I wondered if looking at things from an 'ownership' perspective could allow us to think of 'respect' and 'tolerance' in a different way. If y' wanna get theory-boogie I guess it was an essentially post-colonial argument.
Now however, with the recent NST debacle, our Malaysian government threatening for the upteenth time to shut down a newspaper, things have hit immensely close to home and I believe in this case has indeed become a battle for free speech in Malaysia.
I want to make clear that personally I find those initial caricatures of the Prophet (P.B.U.H.) to be disrespectful, irresponsible, unnecessary and y'know, just plain tacky. However, with the Non-Sequitur cartoon which landed NST in hot water, it is a different matter entirely. The cartoon did not in any way appropriate cultural symbols in a disregarding manner, it was not a caricature of any religious icon, all it did was caricature the situation. And like the best of caricatures, behind the humor lies devastating truth.
If artists are not able to make statements about a situation or event, then what else is there for us? If the public regards the mere ALLUSION to a situation as inflammatory and 'dangerous', how will we ever be able to communicate with each other openly? In the name of national security and racial harmony we have forgotten how to voice out, forgotten that we HAVE a voice, kept back by fear that we sweeten with labels like 'respect' and 'Asian values'.
I will still uphold the belief that all artists have a responsibility for their creations. You can't depict naked elves romping in a photograph of a Nazi concentration camp just because you feel like it, for example. It is too easy to look at these issues from the perspective of free speech - as a basic right belonging to each and every human person. Of course when you set up the pinata of free speech, you're inviting people to come hit at it with sticks of 'damn you MTV, SUV, CAPITALIST WESTERN PIGS'. Things explode and what falls to the floor are not sweets but bombs.
We have to remember that we take this post-modern notion of a free-for-all bazaar of images as naturalized and dominant. It is not necessarily the case. This thread of argument is one that I have not heard enough of in the debate about the initial caricatures of the Prophet (P.B.U.H.). The usage, appropriation and often disfigurement of cultural symbols is a way of exercising power. Ever since the west began to 'discover' the east in the 16th century, this particular exercise of power has been constant. And it is quite invisible. Like 'whiteness'. Yet it acts and causes others to feel acted upon. Because of the invisibility we do not have the language to give it more shape, and so we become locked in a battle as savages who don't have a sense of humor fighting against civilized people who are 'advanced' enough to be able to say whatever the hell they feel, whenever the hell they feel. This seems to be the natural way of being, for we have been this way for the past 400 years.
On a personal level, I haven't felt this strongly about censorship and free speech for a long time. What happened at NST, how they got their wrists soundly slapped, how Dr. M just said 'suspend the editor for 2 or 3 months' - casual as anything - and my own recent confessed self-censorship - all this has combined to make me feel angry, utterly depressed and powerless. The public reaction to the Non-sequitur cartoons is also extremely disheartening. It is obvious that there is a great section of society that cannot tell the difference between a caricature OF the Prophet and a caricature of a current event. Will it come to the point that the mere mention of the Prophet's name in a non-religious context will incite riots, violence and shutting down of newspapers?
The fear, the fear is the thing. It is so very subtle. It infiltrates your mind and changes what you were thinking. 'Yours is to do like a good citizen, or to go to prison.' I was speaking to some older people at a party the other night, friends of my parents. I told them that I feel I cannot say what I want, and they told me: then you might as well not say anything at all. You're an artist, and if you don't express yourself the way you believe then it's all finished. You may as well crawl, you may as well die. You may as well work in I.T.
__________
*I highly recommend Edward's blog. Edward is owner-director of Plus Ultra Gallery in New York. His blog is always polemic, engrossing and highly accessible. And he is possibly the most graceful moderator I have ever come across in a comments' board. Please find the link to his site on the right. ¶ 11:36 AM 3 comments
At the time I didn't wish to approach the issue solely as a 'Battle for Free Speech' debate. I felt that what was also central here (but being pushed to the side) was ownership of images or cultural symbols and their re-appropriation. The debate was being polarized into Us and Them, e.g. Eastern Tolerance versus Western Free Speech. I wondered if looking at things from an 'ownership' perspective could allow us to think of 'respect' and 'tolerance' in a different way. If y' wanna get theory-boogie I guess it was an essentially post-colonial argument.
Now however, with the recent NST debacle, our Malaysian government threatening for the upteenth time to shut down a newspaper, things have hit immensely close to home and I believe in this case has indeed become a battle for free speech in Malaysia.
I want to make clear that personally I find those initial caricatures of the Prophet (P.B.U.H.) to be disrespectful, irresponsible, unnecessary and y'know, just plain tacky. However, with the Non-Sequitur cartoon which landed NST in hot water, it is a different matter entirely. The cartoon did not in any way appropriate cultural symbols in a disregarding manner, it was not a caricature of any religious icon, all it did was caricature the situation. And like the best of caricatures, behind the humor lies devastating truth.
If artists are not able to make statements about a situation or event, then what else is there for us? If the public regards the mere ALLUSION to a situation as inflammatory and 'dangerous', how will we ever be able to communicate with each other openly? In the name of national security and racial harmony we have forgotten how to voice out, forgotten that we HAVE a voice, kept back by fear that we sweeten with labels like 'respect' and 'Asian values'.
I will still uphold the belief that all artists have a responsibility for their creations. You can't depict naked elves romping in a photograph of a Nazi concentration camp just because you feel like it, for example. It is too easy to look at these issues from the perspective of free speech - as a basic right belonging to each and every human person. Of course when you set up the pinata of free speech, you're inviting people to come hit at it with sticks of 'damn you MTV, SUV, CAPITALIST WESTERN PIGS'. Things explode and what falls to the floor are not sweets but bombs.
We have to remember that we take this post-modern notion of a free-for-all bazaar of images as naturalized and dominant. It is not necessarily the case. This thread of argument is one that I have not heard enough of in the debate about the initial caricatures of the Prophet (P.B.U.H.). The usage, appropriation and often disfigurement of cultural symbols is a way of exercising power. Ever since the west began to 'discover' the east in the 16th century, this particular exercise of power has been constant. And it is quite invisible. Like 'whiteness'. Yet it acts and causes others to feel acted upon. Because of the invisibility we do not have the language to give it more shape, and so we become locked in a battle as savages who don't have a sense of humor fighting against civilized people who are 'advanced' enough to be able to say whatever the hell they feel, whenever the hell they feel. This seems to be the natural way of being, for we have been this way for the past 400 years.
On a personal level, I haven't felt this strongly about censorship and free speech for a long time. What happened at NST, how they got their wrists soundly slapped, how Dr. M just said 'suspend the editor for 2 or 3 months' - casual as anything - and my own recent confessed self-censorship - all this has combined to make me feel angry, utterly depressed and powerless. The public reaction to the Non-sequitur cartoons is also extremely disheartening. It is obvious that there is a great section of society that cannot tell the difference between a caricature OF the Prophet and a caricature of a current event. Will it come to the point that the mere mention of the Prophet's name in a non-religious context will incite riots, violence and shutting down of newspapers?
The fear, the fear is the thing. It is so very subtle. It infiltrates your mind and changes what you were thinking. 'Yours is to do like a good citizen, or to go to prison.' I was speaking to some older people at a party the other night, friends of my parents. I told them that I feel I cannot say what I want, and they told me: then you might as well not say anything at all. You're an artist, and if you don't express yourself the way you believe then it's all finished. You may as well crawl, you may as well die. You may as well work in I.T.
__________
*I highly recommend Edward's blog. Edward is owner-director of Plus Ultra Gallery in New York. His blog is always polemic, engrossing and highly accessible. And he is possibly the most graceful moderator I have ever come across in a comments' board. Please find the link to his site on the right. ¶ 11:36 AM 3 comments
Saturday, February 25, 2006
Say What You Want
You realize of course that my previous post is a result of pure unfocused rage.
News Straits Times has come under fire for having the audacity to run a syndicated comic strip (Non-sequitor) that featured a sidewalk artist sitting under a sign saying 'Caricatures of Mohammad while you wait'. The paper has been asked to produce a show-cause letter and if it doesn't convince parliament that it acted within good reason, the paper will be shut down. And former Prime Minister Dr. M is coming back like a bad smell that won't go away, saying that the editor of NST should be 'suspended for 2 or 3 months', because the actions of the paper clearly showed insensitivity towards Muslims.
The words just won't come to me today.
UPDATE: NST is off the hook. Good ol' Jeff Ooi does it betta than me:
http://www.jeffooi.com/2006/02/nst_off_the_hook.php ¶ 11:05 AM 0 comments
News Straits Times has come under fire for having the audacity to run a syndicated comic strip (Non-sequitor) that featured a sidewalk artist sitting under a sign saying 'Caricatures of Mohammad while you wait'. The paper has been asked to produce a show-cause letter and if it doesn't convince parliament that it acted within good reason, the paper will be shut down. And former Prime Minister Dr. M is coming back like a bad smell that won't go away, saying that the editor of NST should be 'suspended for 2 or 3 months', because the actions of the paper clearly showed insensitivity towards Muslims.
The words just won't come to me today.
UPDATE: NST is off the hook. Good ol' Jeff Ooi does it betta than me:
http://www.jeffooi.com/2006/02/nst_off_the_hook.php ¶ 11:05 AM 0 comments
In the name of logic I smite thee
Weird weird weird.
http://acne-alternative-treatments.blogspot.com/
I dunno. The whole blog - the whole damn blog is about acne. Long, excruciatingly detailed posts. And it has been going on for awhile.
Everyone has a weird button, and mine has just been pushed. I am morbidly fascinated.
The sun is shining. I have the familiar numb tongue that tells me I had too much to drink last night. Acne blogs.
Something's not write in my head.
UPDATE : Oh my Buddha, check out this person's OTHER blogs. ALL BY THE SAME PERSON.
http://ibsmagazine.blogspot.com/
http://natural-breast-enhancement.blogspot.com/
http://herbal-male-enhancement-works.blogspot.com/
http://alternative-pain-relief.blogspot.com/
http://herbaltherapeutics.blogspot.com/
Now of course this smacks of drugs marketing, of the VIAGRA GROW A NINE-INCH COCK spam mail persuasion, but what fascinates me is that the posts are of a personal nature. I can imagine someone (presumably Janine from Ohio, whose musical tastes run from Classical to Korn, and also enjoys Suze Orz's financial books) being paid to write and maintain these blogs. ¶ 10:46 AM 1 comments
http://acne-alternative-treatments.blogspot.com/
I dunno. The whole blog - the whole damn blog is about acne. Long, excruciatingly detailed posts. And it has been going on for awhile.
Everyone has a weird button, and mine has just been pushed. I am morbidly fascinated.
The sun is shining. I have the familiar numb tongue that tells me I had too much to drink last night. Acne blogs.
Something's not write in my head.
UPDATE : Oh my Buddha, check out this person's OTHER blogs. ALL BY THE SAME PERSON.
http://ibsmagazine.blogspot.com/
http://natural-breast-enhancement.blogspot.com/
http://herbal-male-enhancement-works.blogspot.com/
http://alternative-pain-relief.blogspot.com/
http://herbaltherapeutics.blogspot.com/
Now of course this smacks of drugs marketing, of the VIAGRA GROW A NINE-INCH COCK spam mail persuasion, but what fascinates me is that the posts are of a personal nature. I can imagine someone (presumably Janine from Ohio, whose musical tastes run from Classical to Korn, and also enjoys Suze Orz's financial books) being paid to write and maintain these blogs. ¶ 10:46 AM 1 comments
Friday, February 24, 2006
Self-Censorship Self-neutering
This is about a review I wrote of Tang Da Wu's current solo exhibition at Valentine Willie Fine Art, called Heroes, Islanders.
While writing this 1000 word review for The Star (a local daily with the highest circulation in Malaysia), I found some parts of the show problematic. A few sharp phrases came to mind, but for some strange reason, I decided to change the tone of the review. I made it more illuminative than critical. Other than a little token attempt at addressing some of my concerns in the last paragraph, this review might well have served as a catalogue essay.
What happened? Well, right now I am preparing for an exhibition and this is a time filled with self-doubt and a general sense of struggle. I think I am in sympathy with the intentions of an artist, and how these intentions do not always translate into successful work. This probably influenced me to look at the ideas behind what Da Wu was trying to do, rather than critiquing the outcomes. This is not so good. An arts' writer can hide behind ideas, talk about context till the cows go to slaughter - in effect chop the balls off what you really think about the actual work.
Can one maintain a critical tongue in a relativist world?
I consider myself fairly out-spoken and immensely stubborn. It was a surprise to me how quickly I admitted to the charge of self-censorship when I spoke with H.C. at The Fake Show* opening last night. The suspicion must have been already floating around in my brain. I do myself no favors, but do hereby confess I was somewhat influenced by the age of the artist, his long-standing reputation in Singapore, and the fact that he showed at a gallery I used to work at, a gallery which I will safely take the liberty of saying is the most important one in Kuala Lumpur.
Hence something like 'One wonders if the whole enterprise is, for the lack of a better word, a little too portable. Too clean and convenient' becomes 'Although the jigsaw-like way in which the works have been arranged seems a little uneasy - lacking the immediacy and element of risk suggested in the their initial creation - this gives function to Tang's form.'
Clearly has had it's balls chopped off. But there's more:
My initial thoughts were: 'An 'intuitive' way of working can be problematic, it can be a way for the artist to absolve him/herself of the responsibility of intention. This is particularly difficult in Da Wu's work because the process of politicizing these essentially apolitical 'instinctive' works relies on contextual frameworks that are by no means neutral or to be taken for granted...'
I turned it into this instead: 'An 'intuitive' way of working can be problematic, it can elevate the artist to tortured, heroic genius, in which every odd splatter of paint is ripe with metaphysical innuendo. But in Tang's case, it is not used as an aesthetic end in itself'.
I will certainly not go so far as to say I lied, or was inaccurate, rather I just chopped the testicles off my own writing. On a professional level I am disturbed that I chose to be so unconscious of the pressures that I felt while writing the review - it was the most natural thing in the world - to think the thoughts, but to tweak the words.
On a personal level, I feel wretched.
H.C. asked if I write more freely when I am out of the country. My answer is 'definitely'. But not in the sense that I am actively 'oppressed' when I am here. Rather, the need to please everyone and not rustle too many feathers registers on a much quieter scale, a soundless process of self-censorship.
What do I long for? Anonymity. Blessed anonymity. How easily one's voice becomes co-opted by others! 'She is a good writer'. Does anyone actually read anything, or is the opinion that 'she is a good writer' circulated like perfume - and becomes all that matters?
Much worse is that... I fear this same self-censorship will begin to invade my art too. Truth to tell, I can no longer be certain what I compromise and what I don't. I know that I feel something happening to my brain and I dislike it. Lately I seem to have difficultly having a position on anything - this is matched with the intense need to leave the country!
It seems a voice in exile is the voice of independence.
So back to my question: can one maintain a critical tongue in a relativist world? I think the answer is not only 'yes you can', but 'yes, you have to'.
*PLUG : The Fake Show curated by Vincent Leong is on at Reka Art Space, 24 Feb - 18 March 2006. www.reka-art.com
**Tip of the hat to H.C. for bringing up these thoughts.
While writing this 1000 word review for The Star (a local daily with the highest circulation in Malaysia), I found some parts of the show problematic. A few sharp phrases came to mind, but for some strange reason, I decided to change the tone of the review. I made it more illuminative than critical. Other than a little token attempt at addressing some of my concerns in the last paragraph, this review might well have served as a catalogue essay.
What happened? Well, right now I am preparing for an exhibition and this is a time filled with self-doubt and a general sense of struggle. I think I am in sympathy with the intentions of an artist, and how these intentions do not always translate into successful work. This probably influenced me to look at the ideas behind what Da Wu was trying to do, rather than critiquing the outcomes. This is not so good. An arts' writer can hide behind ideas, talk about context till the cows go to slaughter - in effect chop the balls off what you really think about the actual work.
Can one maintain a critical tongue in a relativist world?
I consider myself fairly out-spoken and immensely stubborn. It was a surprise to me how quickly I admitted to the charge of self-censorship when I spoke with H.C. at The Fake Show* opening last night. The suspicion must have been already floating around in my brain. I do myself no favors, but do hereby confess I was somewhat influenced by the age of the artist, his long-standing reputation in Singapore, and the fact that he showed at a gallery I used to work at, a gallery which I will safely take the liberty of saying is the most important one in Kuala Lumpur.
Hence something like 'One wonders if the whole enterprise is, for the lack of a better word, a little too portable. Too clean and convenient' becomes 'Although the jigsaw-like way in which the works have been arranged seems a little uneasy - lacking the immediacy and element of risk suggested in the their initial creation - this gives function to Tang's form.'
Clearly has had it's balls chopped off. But there's more:
My initial thoughts were: 'An 'intuitive' way of working can be problematic, it can be a way for the artist to absolve him/herself of the responsibility of intention. This is particularly difficult in Da Wu's work because the process of politicizing these essentially apolitical 'instinctive' works relies on contextual frameworks that are by no means neutral or to be taken for granted...'
I turned it into this instead: 'An 'intuitive' way of working can be problematic, it can elevate the artist to tortured, heroic genius, in which every odd splatter of paint is ripe with metaphysical innuendo. But in Tang's case, it is not used as an aesthetic end in itself'.
I will certainly not go so far as to say I lied, or was inaccurate, rather I just chopped the testicles off my own writing. On a professional level I am disturbed that I chose to be so unconscious of the pressures that I felt while writing the review - it was the most natural thing in the world - to think the thoughts, but to tweak the words.
On a personal level, I feel wretched.
H.C. asked if I write more freely when I am out of the country. My answer is 'definitely'. But not in the sense that I am actively 'oppressed' when I am here. Rather, the need to please everyone and not rustle too many feathers registers on a much quieter scale, a soundless process of self-censorship.
What do I long for? Anonymity. Blessed anonymity. How easily one's voice becomes co-opted by others! 'She is a good writer'. Does anyone actually read anything, or is the opinion that 'she is a good writer' circulated like perfume - and becomes all that matters?
Much worse is that... I fear this same self-censorship will begin to invade my art too. Truth to tell, I can no longer be certain what I compromise and what I don't. I know that I feel something happening to my brain and I dislike it. Lately I seem to have difficultly having a position on anything - this is matched with the intense need to leave the country!
It seems a voice in exile is the voice of independence.
So back to my question: can one maintain a critical tongue in a relativist world? I think the answer is not only 'yes you can', but 'yes, you have to'.
*PLUG : The Fake Show curated by Vincent Leong is on at Reka Art Space, 24 Feb - 18 March 2006. www.reka-art.com
**Tip of the hat to H.C. for bringing up these thoughts.
Labels: art writing
¶ 11:41 AM 0 comments
Tuesday, February 21, 2006
Do ya have it in GREEN?
Materials Day yesterday. Which means running around like an aroused rabbit finding all the things I need for the exhibition. (Aroused rabbit? I don't know where I get it from either)
Like any honest artist I have a few favorite haunts that seldom let me down. My favorite stationary shop is Star Enterprise in Taman Tun. It is my first port of call. It is one of those places where you can usually find what you need - wither it is a cheap harmonica or certain size pins - and if you don't, the sheer range of STUFF there will inspire alternatives. They also have a small haberdashery section which houses a truly inspiring collection of ribbon.
Another place in Taman Tun is a hardware store that I have been visiting since I was a wee student. It is a labyrinth of tools, buckets, pipes, fastenings, and all manner of what-have-yous. One does not attempt the labyrinth, but always consults the sweet Uncle who will dispense advice on a project and then dip into his shop to emerge with the right tool or material. The prices here are more than honest - you need never ever fear being ripped off.
For more specialized art supplies, I go to WIN'S in Taman Megah. I know there are better places, like Nanyang Art Supplies or Venus Art Supplies, but those are in the heart of the city and unless I am desperate, I try to avoid the parking circus that occurs there daily. WIN'S is operated by a frazzled Auntie who will ignore you unless you cut the que and insist on paying for your purchases. A succession of surly pimply-faced Chinese boys act as her helpers, but depending on them is like depending on the weather. They do no react to smiles, eye-batting or mild flirtations, so these tactics are useless. Your best best is to accost them and hit them with a barrage of questions all at once. Shyness will get you nowhere in WIN'S. I have seen people being ignored, a pinched suffering look on their faces, as more aggressive customers get served first.
There is an obscure little art shop in Damansara Utama - Superior Art Supplies - that I also like to go to. They don't have alot of stuff, but sometimes when all else fails, you can find it in Superior. They were the only place I could find grommets of any sort, for example.
Plaster, cement, clay, rubber - all the big building materials I get from Multifilla way out in Balakong. It is not cheap, in fact it is the most expensive in town, but I find their quality utterly dependable. He has alot of storage, so the materials are kept 'fresh'. If you have ever tried to mix a stale bag of plaster, you will know what I mean.
My loot yesterday:
A lovely big roll of soft green scaffold netting
A mass of green nylon rope (this was very difficult to find)
Green thread and metal spools for the sewing machine
Calligraphic ink
Foam board
3M Super77 Industrial strength spray adhesive - this shit is TOXIC - it has a sticker on it saying that is not authorized for sale or use in California because it does not meet Aerosol Consumer Products VOC limits.
Now to work! ¶ 11:14 AM 1 comments
Like any honest artist I have a few favorite haunts that seldom let me down. My favorite stationary shop is Star Enterprise in Taman Tun. It is my first port of call. It is one of those places where you can usually find what you need - wither it is a cheap harmonica or certain size pins - and if you don't, the sheer range of STUFF there will inspire alternatives. They also have a small haberdashery section which houses a truly inspiring collection of ribbon.
Another place in Taman Tun is a hardware store that I have been visiting since I was a wee student. It is a labyrinth of tools, buckets, pipes, fastenings, and all manner of what-have-yous. One does not attempt the labyrinth, but always consults the sweet Uncle who will dispense advice on a project and then dip into his shop to emerge with the right tool or material. The prices here are more than honest - you need never ever fear being ripped off.
For more specialized art supplies, I go to WIN'S in Taman Megah. I know there are better places, like Nanyang Art Supplies or Venus Art Supplies, but those are in the heart of the city and unless I am desperate, I try to avoid the parking circus that occurs there daily. WIN'S is operated by a frazzled Auntie who will ignore you unless you cut the que and insist on paying for your purchases. A succession of surly pimply-faced Chinese boys act as her helpers, but depending on them is like depending on the weather. They do no react to smiles, eye-batting or mild flirtations, so these tactics are useless. Your best best is to accost them and hit them with a barrage of questions all at once. Shyness will get you nowhere in WIN'S. I have seen people being ignored, a pinched suffering look on their faces, as more aggressive customers get served first.
There is an obscure little art shop in Damansara Utama - Superior Art Supplies - that I also like to go to. They don't have alot of stuff, but sometimes when all else fails, you can find it in Superior. They were the only place I could find grommets of any sort, for example.
Plaster, cement, clay, rubber - all the big building materials I get from Multifilla way out in Balakong. It is not cheap, in fact it is the most expensive in town, but I find their quality utterly dependable. He has alot of storage, so the materials are kept 'fresh'. If you have ever tried to mix a stale bag of plaster, you will know what I mean.
My loot yesterday:
A lovely big roll of soft green scaffold netting
A mass of green nylon rope (this was very difficult to find)
Green thread and metal spools for the sewing machine
Calligraphic ink
Foam board
3M Super77 Industrial strength spray adhesive - this shit is TOXIC - it has a sticker on it saying that is not authorized for sale or use in California because it does not meet Aerosol Consumer Products VOC limits.
Now to work! ¶ 11:14 AM 1 comments
Friday, February 17, 2006
URGENT : Knot Request
If anyone knows the right knot to attach a rope to a square (i.e non-cylindrical) post, please let me know, and you shall have my eternal gratitude.
The weight upon the rope will not be great, but the problem here is the slipping of the rope down the post (which is rectangular). It is for an installation I am making, involving suspension of large pieces of netting from angular pillars.
Any assistance/suggestions are greatly appreciated. Thanks T.W. for those links, especially the kite-building one. I've already visited most of the major knot-sites on the web, all of them only have knots that will work on a cylindrical post. (Clove hitches, Rolling hitches, etc).
The weight upon the rope will not be great, but the problem here is the slipping of the rope down the post (which is rectangular). It is for an installation I am making, involving suspension of large pieces of netting from angular pillars.
Any assistance/suggestions are greatly appreciated. Thanks T.W. for those links, especially the kite-building one. I've already visited most of the major knot-sites on the web, all of them only have knots that will work on a cylindrical post. (Clove hitches, Rolling hitches, etc).
Labels: art
¶ 7:13 PM 0 comments
Thursday, February 16, 2006
To anyone who is listening/reading
What we obtain too cheap, we esteem too lightly.
P.s. Also a shout-out to gnute, to whom I'd like to holler back her lovely phrase 'Strong as Jif, by god, Strong as Jif'.
P.s. Also a shout-out to gnute, to whom I'd like to holler back her lovely phrase 'Strong as Jif, by god, Strong as Jif'.
Labels: sweet misery
¶ 12:34 AM 0 comments
Wednesday, February 15, 2006
Choosing
There is a weevil climbing on my computer. I am frantically writing a review of Tang Da Wu's exhibition at VWFA for a princely sum of RM250. Us courtiers must sing for our supper, whatever the song. The weevil is cheerful and humbling in a strange sort of way, reminds me of a joke from one of Patrick O'Brian's books, which I will share here - all you non-Navy worshippers be damned! (you know who you are).
Two weevils crept from the crumbs. 'You see those weevils, Stephen?' said Jack solemnly.
'I do.'
'Which would you choose?'
'There is not a scrap of difference. Arcades ambo. They are the same species of curculio, and there is nothing to choose between them.'
'But suppose you had to choose?'
'Then I should choose the right-hand weevil; it has a perceptible advantage in both length and breadth.'
'There I have you,' cried Jack. 'You are bit - you are completely dished. Don't you know that in the Navy you must always choose the lesser of two weevils? Oh ha, ha, ha, ha!' ¶ 3:23 PM 2 comments
Two weevils crept from the crumbs. 'You see those weevils, Stephen?' said Jack solemnly.
'I do.'
'Which would you choose?'
'There is not a scrap of difference. Arcades ambo. They are the same species of curculio, and there is nothing to choose between them.'
'But suppose you had to choose?'
'Then I should choose the right-hand weevil; it has a perceptible advantage in both length and breadth.'
'There I have you,' cried Jack. 'You are bit - you are completely dished. Don't you know that in the Navy you must always choose the lesser of two weevils? Oh ha, ha, ha, ha!' ¶ 3:23 PM 2 comments
Monday, February 13, 2006
Confine Thyself to Silent Prayer
Smile on me, oh God of Deadlines. I promise I will never procrastinate again. I will schedule and I will plan. I will buy a mini-organizer with funky page dividers and memo pages. With hologram cover and calendar. With currency conversion rate and world-time zones and world census statistics from 1980.
And I will sacrifice two juicy kittens who are currently over-running my house like little rats. I know they are not righfully mine, but the neighbor already has 30 of them and she will not miss two.
Oh man I am so key-ed up on coffee and cigarettes. Die all you fucking artists. Oh wait I am one of them. How'd you like to use a sewing machine, huh? HUH? HUH? Yes you could write your artist statement with it. That will impress them willy nilly. Oh yes, darling, I think you're the bee-knees too. THE BEES' KNEES, I tell you!
The bees' knees. *Weep*
And I will sacrifice two juicy kittens who are currently over-running my house like little rats. I know they are not righfully mine, but the neighbor already has 30 of them and she will not miss two.
Oh man I am so key-ed up on coffee and cigarettes. Die all you fucking artists. Oh wait I am one of them. How'd you like to use a sewing machine, huh? HUH? HUH? Yes you could write your artist statement with it. That will impress them willy nilly. Oh yes, darling, I think you're the bee-knees too. THE BEES' KNEES, I tell you!
The bees' knees. *Weep*
Labels: art
¶ 8:27 PM 0 comments
Sunday, February 12, 2006
Courage from Jarvis
Feeling scared and too small for the job. Would like to huddle in a corner and stay there perhaps for forever. The size of the corner I can manage, everything else is too big. I shall make a corner installation. It shall be one meter all around, the size of my courage at the moment.
Must find ways to multiply that 20 times, as there are 20 meters to cover. Two songs from Pulp help to stretch across...
PULP
"Tomorrow Never Lies"
Tomorrow never lies so live for today
Don't be afraid of the skeletons of yesterday
Each morning brings you closer to your goal so grab your chance don't let it go
The city streets are littered with the casualties
the could'ves and the should'ves and the would've beens
Don't let this chance slip by / Because tomorrow never lies
Tomorrow never lies if you live tomorrow today
There are those who would shoot you down / ah
there's always someone wants to shoot you down
but you know they're never gonna be able to shoot you down
if you live tomorrow today / if you live tomorrow today
The night time blazes with all your nightmares come to life
But you can face the danger knowing that your cause is right
and leave them all below you / bleeding as you rise into the night
Because you know tomorrow never lies / no, tomorrow never lies
no, it's never, never gonna lie if you leve tomorrow today
There are those who would shoot you down / ah
there's always someone who wants to shoot you down
but they're never ever gonna be able to shoot you down
if you live tomorrow today / yeah if you leve tomorrow today
Cos you, you gotta live tomorrow today / Live it because tomorrow never lies
tomorrow never lies / oh no.
"Sunrise"
I used to hate the sun because it shone on everything I'd done.
Made me feel that all that I had done was overfill the ashtray of my life.
All my achievements in days of yore range from pathetic
to piss-poor, but all that's gonna change.
Because here comes sunrise. Yeah, here's your sunrise.
I used to hide from the sun, tried to live my whole life underground.
Why'd you have to rise & ruin all my fun?
Just turned over, closed the curtains on the day.
But here comes sunrise.
Yeah, here's your sunrise when you've been awake
all night long & you feel like crashing out at dawn.
But you've been awake all night, so why should you crash out at dawn? ¶ 9:53 PM 0 comments
Must find ways to multiply that 20 times, as there are 20 meters to cover. Two songs from Pulp help to stretch across...
PULP
"Tomorrow Never Lies"
Tomorrow never lies so live for today
Don't be afraid of the skeletons of yesterday
Each morning brings you closer to your goal so grab your chance don't let it go
The city streets are littered with the casualties
the could'ves and the should'ves and the would've beens
Don't let this chance slip by / Because tomorrow never lies
Tomorrow never lies if you live tomorrow today
There are those who would shoot you down / ah
there's always someone wants to shoot you down
but you know they're never gonna be able to shoot you down
if you live tomorrow today / if you live tomorrow today
The night time blazes with all your nightmares come to life
But you can face the danger knowing that your cause is right
and leave them all below you / bleeding as you rise into the night
Because you know tomorrow never lies / no, tomorrow never lies
no, it's never, never gonna lie if you leve tomorrow today
There are those who would shoot you down / ah
there's always someone who wants to shoot you down
but they're never ever gonna be able to shoot you down
if you live tomorrow today / yeah if you leve tomorrow today
Cos you, you gotta live tomorrow today / Live it because tomorrow never lies
tomorrow never lies / oh no.
"Sunrise"
I used to hate the sun because it shone on everything I'd done.
Made me feel that all that I had done was overfill the ashtray of my life.
All my achievements in days of yore range from pathetic
to piss-poor, but all that's gonna change.
Because here comes sunrise. Yeah, here's your sunrise.
I used to hide from the sun, tried to live my whole life underground.
Why'd you have to rise & ruin all my fun?
Just turned over, closed the curtains on the day.
But here comes sunrise.
Yeah, here's your sunrise when you've been awake
all night long & you feel like crashing out at dawn.
But you've been awake all night, so why should you crash out at dawn? ¶ 9:53 PM 0 comments
Friday, February 10, 2006
You're great, but...
Question: How does one let a man down gracefully? Do you:
a) Have the serious 'you're great, but...' conversation?
b) Ignore all calls?
c) "No, I'm not free tonight, tomorrow night either, yup and the night after. Look, I'll call you ok?
The thing is, should one be a bitch and therefore save them face by making them hate you, or does one play the nice game and come away clean? Perhaps passive aggression is best? Maybe mention an unfortunate highly contagious venereal disease?
Dating is a wilderness I am ill adapted to. I seek guidance. Pour forth on me your advice!
a) Have the serious 'you're great, but...' conversation?
b) Ignore all calls?
c) "No, I'm not free tonight, tomorrow night either, yup and the night after. Look, I'll call you ok?
The thing is, should one be a bitch and therefore save them face by making them hate you, or does one play the nice game and come away clean? Perhaps passive aggression is best? Maybe mention an unfortunate highly contagious venereal disease?
Dating is a wilderness I am ill adapted to. I seek guidance. Pour forth on me your advice!
Labels: men
¶ 10:30 AM 4 comments
Tuesday, February 07, 2006
Quake
I visited the exhibition site again today. Fuck, it is HUGE. Everytime I go there, my heart accelerates a little and stays at that speed. If I keep on going this way cardiovascular failure is not far off.
I don't do myself any favors when I publicly declare that I feel fear, fear, fear. This is by far the largest space I ever worked with. Not only large, but difficult. When I think about it carefully, I do believe that the area I am to cover with my installation is roughly the same as the whole house that I currently live in, garden included.
As an indication of how much higher the stakes are this time, I am actually building a 1:100 scale model of the place, like our friends the architects do, to cut down on the likely-hood of a massive fuck-up. I know this doesn't sound like a big deal, but in general, I really hate maquettes (small scale models of the real thing). I have usually been able to judge my space fairly well from intuition and experience, but I am slightly out of my depth in this case. If I make things too small, it will be a non-reversible disaster in that space. I worry too, because my studio is now very small compared to before. For the first time I find myself longing mightily for a large, well-lit warehouse...
And a table-saw. My soul for a table-saw. (And so goes on the same refrain, eh, Gnute?) ¶ 9:39 PM 4 comments
I don't do myself any favors when I publicly declare that I feel fear, fear, fear. This is by far the largest space I ever worked with. Not only large, but difficult. When I think about it carefully, I do believe that the area I am to cover with my installation is roughly the same as the whole house that I currently live in, garden included.
As an indication of how much higher the stakes are this time, I am actually building a 1:100 scale model of the place, like our friends the architects do, to cut down on the likely-hood of a massive fuck-up. I know this doesn't sound like a big deal, but in general, I really hate maquettes (small scale models of the real thing). I have usually been able to judge my space fairly well from intuition and experience, but I am slightly out of my depth in this case. If I make things too small, it will be a non-reversible disaster in that space. I worry too, because my studio is now very small compared to before. For the first time I find myself longing mightily for a large, well-lit warehouse...
And a table-saw. My soul for a table-saw. (And so goes on the same refrain, eh, Gnute?) ¶ 9:39 PM 4 comments
Green City Spell Search
Maybe it's just the type of work I'm making for the upcoming show, but I am seeing buildings covered in green scaffolding left, right and center!
One day I shall find the right spell, chant it on the ninth day of the ninth month on the top of Bukit Gasing, and they shall all uproot and sail off into the moon-lit night together.
They shall land somewhere in the Pacific Ocean, and there form their own continent. Everyone lost at sea shall bump into this continent inadverdently and make it their home. People may also find it in their dreams, but you can't stay that way. To really find it, you have to put to sea.
Anyone want to make an animation of this with me? And if R. writes the music I will love him forever. Just an idea for the future... ¶ 9:21 PM 0 comments
One day I shall find the right spell, chant it on the ninth day of the ninth month on the top of Bukit Gasing, and they shall all uproot and sail off into the moon-lit night together.
They shall land somewhere in the Pacific Ocean, and there form their own continent. Everyone lost at sea shall bump into this continent inadverdently and make it their home. People may also find it in their dreams, but you can't stay that way. To really find it, you have to put to sea.
Anyone want to make an animation of this with me? And if R. writes the music I will love him forever. Just an idea for the future... ¶ 9:21 PM 0 comments
Friday, February 03, 2006
Uncertain Sea
The sea is so beautiful. The line where it meets the shore is where I feel at peace, completely alive under the great blue sky. Along this line the fear of the open ocean is turned into the thrill of possibility. My whole heart lifts, I am once more in my rightful place in the world. Everything inside me that has compacted into concrete becomes a sieve again, allowing things to flow inside and out just as before - like breath, like water, like air. The movement is the key. A sort of eternal rhythm that finds such perfect resonance in myself, so that my being hums with it, utterly happy, utterly aware. I wash the concrete in the ocean, and it crumbles into a million grains of sand. I come out shining clean, every wound bathed in warm salty water. Words go back to where they came from.... ink and action.
¶ 3:15 PM 0 comments
