Verpan

A thousand splendid suns

Not quite what Saeb-e-Tabrizi had in mind but it does the job. I love my Verner Panton lamp not only because its Danish, but for its timeless quality. If i'm not wrong, the design dates back to the 1950s. Not as immortal as Le Corbusier's Chaise Lounge or a Van der Rohe Barcelona piece but it most definately holds its own. I have a soft spot for Danish design, for its understated cool factor and because it is both functional and timeless, think Arne Jacobsen's Egg chair. Good design never goes out of style. Now if only I can get a Verner Panton S chair for my room.

Sinai

An emaciated road, through inhospitable terrain.

The road to peace is never an easy one and always a long one. The photo exhibition at the Art House, Israel - Birth of a Nation, was a brilliant example of photojournalism. I was particularly taken by a pair of photographs by David Rubinger, one showing the plight of Israeli children and the other that of an Arab Child, both victims of the still ongoing Arab Israeli conflict. David Rubinger in describing the pair of photos said that both sets of people were "Uprooted for different reasons, but does the reason matter?"

The sheer honesty of that phrase struck me. It is a disregard for Reason that gives rise to conflict. During conflicts, both sides have tried to legitimise their actions with attempts at reasonings. But it is all in vain for Reason has already taken flight; when the first shots were fired. It no longer matters. What matters are the people that are getting hurt or killed. But conflict does not discriminate between combatants and non-combatants, at least not anymore.

When I travelled through the Sinai Peninsula, I saw the remnants of the Sinai War and the Six Day War. The military installations and numerous army checkpoints were testament to the psychological remnants of those wars. The near empty holiday resorts along the red sea were testament to the then ongoing Palestinian intifada, part deux; a current and future consequence of those wars. Rubinger and Goldman's images not only document the conflict but also carry an important message. That we can still Hope for peace. For Hope is all thats left, since Reason has long been abandoned.

Nike

'Whether I shall turn out to the hero of my own life,
or whether that station will be held by anybody else,
these pages must show.'

Dialectic

Experience Contradiction; The same in different shades.

I have bemoaned the inadequacy of words. And I have also asserted that a proposition and a counter proposition can result in synthesis; A blending of styles. But alas, I suppose all this is no more than Rhetoric. Bouncing ideas to and fro, against each other could just be the greatest cop out. The intellectualisation of cowardice or the subversion of absolutism?

Tip

Fiery Reds and Flowing Pinks,
All culminate at the tip.

The Truth

An L for an L

The truth is that I love my L lens. And I am sure the photographer here shares my sentiment. The Botanic Gardens was filled with couples taking wedding photos. Off hand I counted 4 within the vicinity; all sharing the same backdrop. What ever happened to originality. What difference is that from a studio shot then? But I suppose there aren't that many places in Singapore to go to for your vanilla wedding shots. I suppose the sublimal message that I should have picked up yesterday was that all the couples were young, like around my age. But that didn't really hit home until yet another friend informed me this evening that he was engaged. A day after my good friend informed me of his engagement. My goodness.

I always thought I would be the first amongst my mates to get hitched. I've always walked the establishment path. I did my Os and went to JC, while all my friends went to Art school or poly. I did my NS, with the same bochup attitude as 90% of my peers. After NS, I went on to a local Uni, sans scholarship, nothing Ivy League or Oxbridge. So here comes the clincher, because at or around this time I'm supposed to meet the girl of my dreams, fall madly in love, graduate, buy a 5 room HDB flat and live happily ever after. ok ok so who am I kidding. With my track record, it is clear that I'm a laggard in this department. Yes, I can hear the gahmen planner screaming in anguish. In fact, the truth is that I'm probably going to be the last of the lot to get hitched, if ever. I suppose there are measures that can be taken to improve my chances. First, I need to get attached. Secondly, I need to STAY attached. Thirdly, I need to start saving; which means no spending on cameras, lenses, books, car stuff, travelling and boozing. Lastly, the most painful and unbearable of actions, I need to take down the Porsche poster on my wall and replace it with one of a family sedan. *ouch*

At this point in time, I am questioning the purpose of this blog post. I suppose the main message of this post is to congratulate all my newly engaged friends and all my soon to be engaged friends. You guys have chosen a path that will bring you tons of happiness, of course only after you have agreed on who gets to hold the TV remote control. And I suppose the subplot of this post is that I seem to be happy enough with cars, cameras, gadgets, boozing and travelling. I don't suppose I am any happier than all of you. In fact, I am sure I'm not. But I'm contented with this level of happiness because the truth is that there is no The Truth. Its all relative.

Purple&Green

A spider in the heart of a flower.

I love this photo for the brilliant shades of purple and green. Really glad that I got out of the house to do a little bit of shooting. Even more glad that I manage to get a nice photo in spite of the drizzle and overcast skies. There is always beauty about, you just need to find it, sometimes in the heart of a flower.

C35AF2

Family and the bride.

Recently, I found my dad's old camera whilst packing up the storeroom and was thrilled to find it in decent condition, despite it being mothballed for more than a decade. I cleaned up the lens, bought a new UV filter, popped in some new batteries, loaded in a roll of t-max and tadahhhhhh. It works. Although it is a very basic camera, this camera is a despository of memories. So many moments have passed through the lens of this camera, and hopefully many more to come. A photographer once described the camera as a kind of alchemical resonating chamber, where space and time, matter and memory intermingle and are transformed by light to reveal the threshold of eternity. How true.

Kapadokya

I travel to photograph a place,
not as an act of homage and witness,
but as one means to reconsider and absorb
the enduring phsycial presence of the past.

HandMade

Crafted with the best tools God gave us.

I like wandering Bazaars, the less touristy the better. I love the sounds, the smells, the colours. Although the Grand Bazaar in Istanbul was humongous it was clearly lacking in authenticity. But what the Grand Bazaar lacked, the Bazaar in Urfa(Sanliurfa) more than made up for. Instead of rows of stalls selling tacky tourist t-shirts and knick knacks, there were craftsman banging out copper pots for actual cooking, not souvenirs; there were tobacco traders, carpenters, butchers and proper spice stalls, which sold spices in packages too big to check in. There were real caravanserais where goods were still being stored, after their long journey overland from China, through Iran and onwards to Istanbul or Europe. The chatter was a mix of Kurdish, Farsi, Arabic and Turkish instead of the disheartening mix of EU languages. The passageways were lighted not by flourescent tubes but by sunlight piercing through the gaps in the canvas sheets; spotlighting the craftsmen, creating atmospheric backdrops.

Noel John

Noel John Geno Oehlers, trying to cover up Harry & Barry. All that Faux Modesty, he was grinning broadly throughout the whole journey to the train station. I was kind enough to not show a picture of his two "friends" hanging out through the hole in his jeans. Did I mention that he likes it airy? Airy Hairy he says. No comments. In case you lot havent figured it out yet, Noel John and I are close, like brothers. I'm the brother that ate all his food and he is the brother I never wanted.

Baker Boys

My daily bread.

This photo was snapped in the South Eastern region of Turkey, where there is a large Kurdish population. At the mention of Kurds, I can't help but think of Ocalan and the PKK. But one look at their smiley faces and that thought simply vanishes. If the smiles don't do the trick, I'm sure the bread will. Partaking of warm freshly baked bread is probably one of the simplest pleasures of life that is too readily passed on. I hope that Sunday's general elections will bode well for both the Turks and the Kurds, both astonishingly friendly peoples. I hope that there will be peace, and the breaking of bread.

Nimrod

The silence that spoke.

If I were to speak a thousand words it would be no more than babel. For I lack the strength to scale the towering heights of Language. To be understood.
And as Language develops we become more fragmented.

Theater

Keeping the audience on edge.

Do you know your Greek Theaters from your Roman Theaters? What difference does it make. There's always the Greco-Roman style anyway. Style will always blend; never as cleanly as a razor's edge.

Istanbul

Here the call to prayer isn't looked on as music,
but what else can it be, as it hovers over the city
like a swarm of birds or benign insects singing

in priase of the sky, eternal and temporal
divinity who, too evidently, is not with us?
In the hour before dawn the verse grows by one line,

not otherwise heard, urging the supremacy
of prayer over sleep. But what kind of salvation
would it be that broke us from our dreams?

In New York there are many churches,
but I do not remember their bells.

~John Ash, Leaving New York III

Blackberry

Like Bill Brandt's Coal Miners and such.
Dad and his corporate ball & chain;
Both in need of a re-charge.

Chose

Frame in Frame

My first weekend in three weeks was spent at home nursing a flu and reading. It was briefly punctuated by a short trip to the museum and an indulgence at Borders. The past week was a flurry of activities and I suppose the only major highlight was that I finally managed to get my hands on a copy of John Ash's The Parthian Stations. So, one month of pupilage is down and 5 more to go. The past month was no more than a subset of pupilage which is no more than a subset of a legal career which is also no more than a subset of life. I find myself going through life trying to categorize, trying to compartmentalise; in order to manage. But is this the true nature of things? To be qualified? But this is how we have been taught. To analyze everything according to isms and ists, to this and that. Perhaps in doing so we are missing the bigger picture. Perhaps, everything lies in the philosophies of the possible; where everything's just is.

Souvenir

On my desk there is a photograph
of Patsy, Helen, Peter and me
sitting around a table in the bar
of an expensive hotel (piano
palm, framed calligraphy).

We are raising our glasses.
We look so happy I can't stand it.
Can it be so simple-
a sister, two friends and some booze?

And I think of the waiter
who must have taken the shot
think of him smiling and deeply bored
by the duty to witness and record
the wealth and happiness of strangers.

~John Ash