Wandering through the wilderness of modernity 12:24 am

"Cordially, they exchanged pleasantries; they exchanged name-cards, glances, formal pursed smiles. The work proceeds.

By coincidence, or Chance or perhaps calculated Fate, words begin to be exchanged, then ideas were shared. The necessary cordiality of the working class gave way to bourgeois exchanges, literary conversations started to form.

Then an intriguing relationship starts to build, small as it may be. And all this on the basis of the letters they soon started to share. Yes, a human relationship finding initial life through just the written word. This, a rarity in the modern world of Facebook, MSN, Twitter, Skype. It is nearly a flashback to Victorian times of gentlemen and ladies, a time modernity forgot. A time where we could respond to fellow human beings through careful crafting of letters, rather than react through instant messaging.

Yet right here were two floating souls wandering through the wilderness of modernity wielding ancient weaponry of the written word, ideals and values seemingly fighting battles the urban world is only too quick to laugh at. Right here were two souls that embodied the innate human desire of free expression in a time which tolerates no such non-scientific frivolity.

One wonders where this unfolding story may take the world to."

"floating souls" | performers at Singapore F1 2009

Uncle T

Authors of our own lives 5:53 pm

Prof Breslin is in town! One of my most loved uni profs is in town visiting. Excited, I want to get him a gift despite the very short notice. I wanted to give him an authentic Singaporean momento. I thought of bazhang (glutinous rice dumplings) for his family in Kenilworth, Merlion keychain persons. No. Since he is an academic, I am sure he is tired of tiny words on tiny pages; so I thought I'll het him a nice picturebook of Singapore.

Amidst the search at Borders after work, something disturbed me. I wanted to find a photography book of Singapore but I found it so difficult to find one taken by a Singaporean photographer. And I felt it is important because I believe a Singaporean would capture a different Singapore than a non-Singaporean. One may argue that you don't necessary need to be Singaporean to take good Singapore photos. I agree its not a necessary condition but I think very crucial assuming all else being equal. A mother will know her child best regardless how experienced a nanny is, all else being equal.

Perhaps if I went to a different bookstore I might have found more local photographers. But right in the centre of town at Borders, for whatever reason, published Singaporean photographers were few and far between. And as an aspiring shutterbug, I find that disheartening.

I really hope that more Singaporean photographers are chosen to showcase what is truly Singaporean. Singapore through the lenses of non-Singaporeans may just miss that crucial element of growing up here. A Singaporean taking photo of an SBS bus might just capture not just an icon of an efficient public transport system, but also the memories of the old school days before ezylink, the days of folding paper hearts with bus tickets; if you never grew up here, you would not know the days of paper hearts.

Especially in a highly globalised world where American culture tends to permeate through mass media, I find it all the more important to hang onto local flavours lest we all diffuse into a single unauthentic identity; where would the difference lie between individuals especially when the majority of us are slaves to global brands and cultures?

My conviction may be misplaced, or mistimed, but for now I think local artists should get the chance to stand up and get the chance to share with other cultures our very own. Perhaps this eventuality has already begun, but I'm sure it can move along with greater force.

The next time I look for a souvenior, I sure hope I can find photography that tells at least an authentic paragraph of the Singapore story.

Test 1:11 am

This is a test. I am blogging from my handphone. Wonders of technology!

crash back to reality 8:14 pm

Just for those few minutes, I found the space where I could find rest and peace. And then come reeling back into reality and landing with a thud. Thud. You land back into reality where you have to share spaces and places with loved ones and non-loved ones alike; having to shuffle back abit to make room for other people lest you step on their toes. One can't even enjoy an ice-cream in peace.

Thud. So the song lyrics go "back to life, back to reality".


Uncle T

Back here again. 4:12 pm

I was here just yesterday, but I'm back here again, in the same seat. The same smell, the same feel-good feeling. It is my space, a place where I feel in touch with my "inner-self". Its so hard to describe this feeling; quiet solitude perhaps.

long-black

latte

bone-dry cappuccino

a bit of brooklyn in singapore.
It is no surprise this is a coffee place. Despite being on the other side of the world, it reminds me of Gorilla Coffee in Brooklyn, New York. Other than the smell, its the passion with which they serve their coffee. In this way, whenever I miss the nice warm fuzzy feeling of being on 5th Ave Brooklyn, I'll want to come here in Newton. My space, my place.

I often have spoken of the beauty of randomness, and I was blessed once more yesterday to experience it.

After lunch with Jiawei, we came round to the kopi place. It roasts its own coffee beans and serve amazing Brasilian coffee in cupfuls of passion; cappuccinos with a floral finish on the foam. I had a chat with the owner. That casual chat turned out to be an engaging conversation and respect for my new-found acquaintance. We shared ideas, he about his coffee empire and I about my lofty social and artistic ideals.

sharing spaces | kopi place

floral warmth | kopi place

living (out) daydreams
I miss meeting people who dream. And take action; living out their daydreams.

Suddenly he asks if I'll like to curate the gallery space he owns. Out of the blue. I hesitate; I'm still hesitating. But one thing I didn't hesitate was to grab a cab immediately and headed down to see this gallery in Bukit Timah. Wow.

Formerly 2 separate simple accommodation, it has now been turned into a charming gallery space with about 30 walls, currently adorned with Leslie's captivating paintings. (Leslie is currently sitting across me in the kopi place and she walks over to offer me a home-made cinnamon cookie. Home.) One might look at the two different painting mediums and think they were by two different artists, but Leslie assures me they are all her work as she walks around the gallery with me; she does both oil on canvas as well as Chinese ink paintings. With some pieces, she mixes the mediums, carrying with it that very nature that characterises many Singaporeans; brought up on Asian values but grew up amidst Western culture.

Brought up on Asian values but grew up amidst Western culture; Singaporeans.


from strangers to inspiration
It poured hard prophetically on that Halloween night as we left the gallery. Leslie, whom I only met today, gave me a ride to join my parents for dinner. Strangers I met, now new-found inspirations.

Is it not beautiful how randomness can turn out? But we, I, must stay open to the endless possibilities and opportunities this world may offer, wherever we may be in the world.

Anywhere, anytime, we can find our space, our place. Home; home is where the heart lies, where the being finds rest. Cheem, but possibly true.

"its all been written" | kopi place

gallery space @ bkt timah

Uncle T