Residency Period:
1 October 2016 – 31 July 2017 (withdrew as of May 1, 2017)
Bio
A Canadian film-maker Rob Santaguida’s videos ”Miraslava” and ”Goran” have screened in over 200 international festivals, including CPH: DOX, Denmark; Videobrasil, Brazil; Kassel Documentary Film and Video Festival, Germany; and Transmediale, Germany. Rob has served as the artist-in-residence at museums and artist-run centres in the United States, Croatia, Romania, Germany, Norway, Greece, Serbia, and Australia. Rob is the recipient of the K.M. Hunter Artist Award and a fellowship from the Akademie Schloss Solitude in Germany.
On-hiatus Proposal Summary
Rob has been meaning to go on hiatus for several years now, but every year, a new event or project emerges, and he finds himself making work while missing the original impulse that moved him in the past. Later this year he will finally go on hiatus, with the hopes of replacing cynicism with youthful vigour, and finding new motivation for when he returns to his practice in the future.
During his hiatus, he will travel to Istanbul and live in the neighborhood of Balat. He will focus on simple activities, like reading, walking and conversation. He will learn Italian and maybe try out the saxotromba.
Final Report
"You said it was time for a grand conclusion. When we pick our seats on the train you always find it strange that I don't mind facing backwards. Time spent regretting is wasted time, you say. Who cares about an exchange from twenty years ago when you reacted to your environment like a sand dollar? If I hadn't wasted these hours with my regret I probably would have wasted them in another way. This is time for a soft statement.
I mishear things sometimes. The music was too loud or you slurred your words, and I pretend to understand. I wonder how things would be different if I had apologized until it was clear what you meant. Only you know.
I have never been afraid of endings. Beginnings, on the other hand, terrify me. As I stand knee-deep in this prelude I now know nothing I do is important. The world doesn't need another one of my films. What the world needs is comfort.
It is too hot to sleep, so I sit up with the lights off, trying to stay quiet so not to wake anyone, listening the sound of the waves slapping against the rocks. A few small boats glide by, fishing with spotlights. Behind me my ancestral home, without a head the town spasms in the final moments before it dies. Streets are cut out instead of repaired. Long curls of white paint come off the welcome sign. The locals will think I am insane if I moved back here.
We bobbed on the sea aboard an old yacht. The captain and his daughter handed us drink after drink. I started feeling sick and lay on the deck. The boat bounced off the waves as we headed to the shore in the cool, black air. You covered me with a part of the sail, and it was cozy. I thought you would lean in and see how I was doing from time to time, but your thoughts were elsewhere. I nearly heard your laugh over the sound of the engine and the water. I stayed wrapped up well after I felt better.
I did nothing that I set out to do. I didn't think I would. I was alone more than I expected. Enjoyed it more than I thought I could. I traveled to cold places during the winter and hot places in the summer while I tried to do the reverse. I didn't learn any new languages or how to play an instrument or even spend a day longer than I needed to in Istanbul. The bitter fights, which I hadn't proposed, were my currency. It was a good experience. But I wouldn't do it again. But it was good."
I head south to escape the cold weather. The train is always late, the conductor tells me, and the best view is on the right. For me, the main spectacle will be my wristwatch, every fifteen minutes. I have an eight-hour train ride ahead of me, but it always takes nine.
I’m too restless to do anything but chew gum. The flavour of each piece lasts for about two minutes. I have eighteen sticks altogether. I will need to pace myself.
We pass through a thicket of small trees, just wide enough for the train to get through. I see a house, remote and alone, on a ridge. I have the urge to knock on the door and see who lives there. And why. After a few kilometers, another house appears. Another. And another. I realize it’s just a neighbourhood, each house separated by an immense, rugged distance.
Something also quite remarkable happened last weekend. We met our most enigmatic current resident Rob Santaguida at his screening in Montreal. Over the past three residency cycles, we have had many different cases and circumstances of artists being on hiatus and going off hiatus but this was yet another unique case that we did not know what to think of it until this happened.
When Rob submitted his proposal to us, he was already on a self directed hiatus and was traveling abroad. He decided to apply for RFAOH to make his hiatus “official”, even though he knew that this screening of his video that he had completed prior to his hiatus will take place seven months later, in January 2017. In our application guideline, we state that if the applicant has an appointed exhibition, presentation, artist residency, or a specific project to start in the future and is simply waiting for it, RFAOH does not consider this as a hiatus.
So we discussed — is this a conflict of interest? On the surface, his case is exactly what our criteria rules out, but Rob claimed to have finished his “last work” and gone actively on hiatus. He did not sound like he was “simply waiting for it (this art presentation),” having not much control over the timing of its premier decided by the venue. (Mind you we did not expect him to be coming back to Montreal for the screening, so it was bit of a surprize)
And we accepted him, because we ourselves were also curious about all these questions — the level or kind of activity or engagement that demarcates one’s status as “on hiatus” or “off hiatus”;what happens to one’s own self-identification as an “artist not making art” when you have to show your old work — do you become a “working artist” for that night and then when that’s over, go back to being a non-working artist?
When we met Rob, we asked him about his thoughts on these questions. (which we hope didn’t make him feel interrogated or something!) He said that this presentation could have taken place without him, (he admitted that he always disliked attending his screenings anyway) and it feels a little like his “final duty before his retirement”. He was in fact going back to Europe the very next day to continue on with his hiatus plan of traveling, with no return ticket. The analogy he gave was as poetic as his RFAOH reports that have become familiar to us : “It’s like having cleaned up the apartment when moving out — the place is now all empty but for a single trash bag that still needed to be taken to the curb.”
It was such a pleasure to meet him in person and hear him talk about his hiatus, his intense experiences in Istanbul (which was his original destination in his proposal) on top of attending his presentation that the organizer described as a “finissage with the artist in attendance”. The audience enthusiastically asked questions after the screening and he answered to them very genuinely and generously.
We wished him a bon voyage and look forward to more reports from the latter half of his hiatus. As we implied in our last post, this has added to our good feelings about how our new year is starting.
I’m not sleeping well. Is that the root of all of my problems? Everyone’s maybe? When someone complains that they’re tired, I ignore it. It’s as though they’re telling me they have a heart beating in their chest. Exhaustion is the underlying colour of the everyday.
There’s someone very dear to me that refuses to invest in anything except a good bed. Some mornings I wake up in a comfortable hotel room and wish, if I could afford it, to never check out. I understand why some people live in hotels long term. It’s a subject I refuse to spend time arguing over.
Light and sound, just a minuscule amount — a ray passing through a pinhole or tip-toes on carpet — are enough to erase an easeful moment. (Fortunately there are others ways to ruin a moment.) Peace is delicate and can be tore with a word.
This month has been eaten up by family ‘stuff’, stuff that’s not for online sharing but time and energy consuming. Now, in the potential homestretch, we are looking at a best possible outcome. And I’m feeling a huge sense of release and relief. This is going to be ok.
Provided an application gets accepted. BUT I am not going to dwell on that.
My other job has also started back up – two years ago I began to teach art classes at a city art centre evenings and weekends. It’s funny, I think it’s my favorite job I’ve had. When I finished my BFA in 2000 several of my friends went on to do teaching degrees, but knowing myself, I swore I’d never teach. At the time I was right I lacked any number of personality traits that make a good teacher; at the forefront were: being patient, non-judgmental, and having empathy. Sixteen years of life experience and having two boys have reformed me. 😀 And since its “Bell Let’s Talk” Day in Canada (#BellLetsTalk) I’ll mention that anxiolytics and cognitive behavioral therapy (CBT) are awesome for increasing patience!
This term I’m teaching adults and kids – Arts Combo (a mash up class where you play with a different media each week), Oil painting, and Sculpture. I’m already having fun.
A quick pastel sketch of a pinecone I did as a demo.
I also finished a project that’s been sitting in my studio for over four years! The idea was to make a crib quilt for a friend’s baby but once I designed and started embroidering the blocks it grew into something very different! So now it’s single bed size which worked out well since the baby is now a preschooler. I just have to mail it. Every one of these ‘late’ projects I finish and move out of my studio, the less weight I feel.
That's an amazing production, Lee! One of my most favourite two types of productions I personally dig -- the exquisitely artistic work with a function, and the work that makes you think about: "the whole world + the work = the whole world".
How lucky she/he is to receive this... Plus, more room in your "studio"!
just another long day
When I’m awoken this morning,
the sky above is full of brilliant stars,
as if I had been asleep in a planetarium.
The night sky here is incredible.
And I sleep directly under a window.
And Marmalade wakes me up every morning,
like an alarm clock sometime between six and seven.
There is no light pollution whatsoever,
once Yves, the French bamboo farmer neighbor,
goes to bed, which is around 8 or 9 pm (20:00-21:00).
Before bedtime, Orion is huge above our front door,
and the Dipper is filling the Northern sky.
In the early morning,
my eyes are too bleary
to make out any constellations,
and by the time I’ve had my cup of coffee,
the sun is arriving from the East and a whole new sky delights:
pastel shades reflecting off a misty and frozen wonderland.
Today we have had a long day…
After Marmalade was dropped off at school
(during which time I was home trimming more overgrowth),
and the wood chips were collected and scattered,
(and planted a bamboo that was torn by a tractor and left roadside)
we had to go find the veterinarian in town,
recommended by the cafe owner in our village,
as one of Nutella’s cancerous tumors has grown,
and appears to be oozing and causing her discomfort.
I’m always nervous at the vets,
knowing there isn’t any really good news,
with a ten year old that has cancer and numerous tumors.
(I first found one small tumor on Nut when picking her up from friends,
after a few weeks away visiting family in Bahrain in the Spring of 2013.
During surgery to remove it in the summer of 2015,
the vet noticed this pea-sized one.
But it was too hot and too soon to operate again.)
So our midmorning began there.
Fortunate the vet and her assistant were lovely people,
compassionate and helpful, cleaning her tumor,
giving her antibiotics and pain killers,
and medicine for the few days until our next visit.
And while in town, we did a load of laundry,
as they have laundry machines in the parking lot outside the grocery store
(at 4€ per load, including eco-detergent, saving me 4 hours of hand washing).
And since it’s a Water day, and we were running dangerously low,
we went to the Spring and filled up our bottles with water.
The Spring is in a nice meadow, a little South of town,
with a catch basin pond and lots of wildflowers.
(We probably won’t be going there much longer,
as once we find a suitable pump and filter we will be using our well instead.
But for now, we enjoy going there, often having chance meetings with some other locals.)
Then we ran home to drop off water and hang the laundry to dry in the sun,
added some more bamboo posts to continue the fence,
before heading out again for more roadside mulch collecting,
and then picking up Marmalade from her kindergarten.
By the time I had dinner made and eaten (French toast & strawzzies)
and firewood cut and inside, the sky turned pastel.
The stars were coming out again,
ready for their nighttime display.
Last week, one afternoon while I was out trimming grass,
one of our usual passersby leaned out of his van
and said “muito trabalho” (a lot of work).
I think he was complimenting us on all the yard work we have done,
but perhaps he was pointing out all the work left to do.
Either way, I said “Sí, indeed.”
It has been a lot of work,
and continues to be so.
This morning I must’ve cleared 5 square meters (45 square feet) of our yard,
waist-high grasses and other dried stems of wildflowers
from around a giant cactus, the bases of a few of the cork oak trees,
and a patch where we want to put another garden box.
After laying the grass on the patched and regraded driveway,
we’ve been adding mulch, bucketsful, until it feels almost like carpeting.
(We collect and scatter 8 big buckets and two sacks full of mulch each weekday,
and have been all month, and will continue to do so until we run out of mulch or yard.)
We are more than halfway up the driveway path, and halfway up the bamboo path, too.
Also, this past weekend was a Flower transplanting time,
so, as you might have guessed, we’ve transplanted a lot of flowers.
First, while out getting mulch, I dug up two huge clusters of a purple wildflower,
and replanted them in cork planters around the front of the house.
I had been eyeing them for awhile, as they’re really vibrant for January flowers,
and had been waiting until this transplanting time to bring some home.
And then, after clearing several barrels of blackberries from the ruin,
we were able to dig out and transplant more honeysuckles,
to weave into, and almost complete, our first stretch of honeysuckle fence.
(I had woven a gown out of Virginia creeper vines years ago,
and this fence project has tapped into that tactile memory.)
While finishing up weaving the last tendrils of honeysuckle,
I noticed something out the corner of my eye creeping along the fence.
At first I thought it might be a spider, but soon saw that it was a mantis,
a kind like I’d never seen before: brown, horned, with a curled scorpion-like tail.
Its movements were slow (maybe due to the chilly weather) yet precise,
and after two days it has remained on the fence, not far from where we met it.
I’m glad it’s moved in: “good fences make good neighbors!”
Otherwise, I’ve been baking,
(since it heats up the house, body and soul):
lots of muffins ( hokkaido squash-walnut
and carrot cakelets with cream cheese frosting),
and wholegrain sourdough rolls stuffed with melty cheese
(I accidentally made sourdough a weeks ago, when extra pizza dough went sour,
so I fed it and fed it and fed it again, and now has become a sourdough starter,
so a lot more sourdough baking projects await.)
And while the oven is on,
I’ve been roasting chestnuts.
Marmalade is absolutely nuts for them,
and we all can’t resist them fresh from the oven.
As an aside, I’d love to get a chestnut tree,
but I’m not sure it could survive here.
(They do grow in Portugal,
but from my experiences hiking in Italy,
they prefer colder, more mountainous settings.)
We also want to get a walnut tree,
and from our experience in Austria,
where they grew in sunny patches near lakes and streams,
we should be able to grow one in the sunny roadside near the pond.
We are nuts for nuts,
and they go well with all the fruit we are growing.
And they’d go great in all the muffins I’ve been baking.
It’s now well passed mid January, schools have started and galleries have opened new exhibitions; everyone in the arts seems to be geared up for the new season. RFAOH’s first big announcement of 2017 is that our current resident artist on hiatus, Ramla Fatima has decided not to resume her art practice after January as initially planned, but to extend her residency until the end of our 3rd year in July 2017! We are happy that she’s liking being on hiatus with us — you decide if it is good or bad news (:
Like Ramla, who has already sent a number of reports this month, other residents are also busy with their non-art endeavors into 2017 and are actively reporting. We feel good about the latter half of our 3rd year, contrary to the general anxiety in the world. It feels good to stay on the peripheral but in the most open and open-ended community. Let’s all gather together and continue to re-imagine the true potential of nonsense and new rhetoric at RFAOH!
“i opened my eyes, and the first thing i saw was – WHITE”
Even as I took joy in expressing my controversial opinions, I would still hear sound of my inner voice advising me: “shut up”. More often than not, I would listen to that voice. Meanwhile, there was a side of me that secretly harboured thoughts that were dying to be expressed, a voice in my heart that desperately wanted to be heard, and bits of my soul that were fighting to break free. Every time I was faced with a dilemma, the two voices would break into an ugly war, and it was the same one that came out victorious every time: the voice that urged me to shut up.
I was in the same room, with the same people, and the same one sided conversation was going on. But there was something in the air that day. Something which was different and unfamiliar.
I blinked. Was that some kind of a weird, grey-coloured marshmallow I just saw? A cloud, maybe. I blinked again. Hmm. I guess I was just imagining it.
The unwritten rules of society are just as important as the ones written in the holy book. Somewhere in between those hefty sets of rules, exists art. And art is beyond all those rules, boundaries and limitations! I thought.
There was a seven-inch miniature replica of the Eiffel tower on the top of the rectangular wooden coffee table right in the middle of the living room. I stared at it.
As the generator’s battery started to run out, my room became warmer and my skin got damper. I sighed in exasperation and pushed back my glasses which were sliding down to the edge of my nose. When I regained my vision, I saw again that grey, smoke-like cloud floating in mid-air, obstructing my view of the Eiffel tower. I blinked again. This time, the smoke like structure did not budge.
“Uncle insists you become a doctor. It earns you money” I heard. His voice sounded very low and faint to me, I could hardly hear him at all. This was surprising, because whenever he opened his mouth, he makes sure he is the loudest person in the room. Now I could brush this off as a peculiar instance, but there were so many creepy things happening that I couldn’t help but freak out. Have I fallen asleep? Am I dreaming?
“And it would certainly help to get your mind off those useless novels and paintings. I mean, take it from…..” it became impossible to hear him finish his sentence. I started to feel my heart beat rise. Okay, that’s it! What’s going on?
My entire body shook as I fell to the ground, wrapped my hands around my head and screamed uncontrollably. Gradually, the pain subsided. It took me a while to catch my breath and when I got myself back on my feet, I was afraid to open my eyes. I forced myself to squint. The coast was clear. I opened my eyes, and the first thing I saw was white. It was only after I’d twisted and turned my neck at every angle possible that I realized everything around me was completely white.
All sorts of thoughts raced through my mind. Am I dead? Wow, that was easy! Did I just cross over to the other side? Whoa, maybe I’ll finally get to meet god! Am I in a state of coma? Could I be dreaming? I need to wake up before someone notices!
In the midst of all these thoughts, I saw a swirl of yellow paint floating around in random directions. It was similar to the cloud-like structure I’d seen earlier, only of a different color. I reached for it. As if on cue, it suddenly dawned on me: this place is a blank canvas, and I can paint it!
So, I tested my intuitive mind by using the tips of my fingers to carefully write something with the yellow paint onto the whiteness around me. I was writing down my name. This was the first thought that came to my mind. This was the only thing I remembered at that time that I am Ramla… My name is Ramla…. Okay I am Ramla. Who is Ramla. I so wanted to sketch my face. I was continually trying to remind how I look like. I was drawing random lines one on top of another. As I tilted my head to get an angled view of my calligraphic masterpiece, swirls of different colors began to fill up the space around me, I had never seen colors like that in my whole life! Here I was, standing in the middle of nowhere, experiencing the kind of mesmerizing beauty you only get to read about in novels. I wasted no time, and started to have fun; I made designs, created sceneries and painted faces. The feelings of my finger being dipped inside some magical liquid and then moving across the white canvas was refreshing. I could create whatever in wanted, and no one was around to object.
It felt as though something deep within me had just been unlocked. I was no longer creating symmetrical patterns or drawing organized designs; I was creating a spontaneous mess. My inner clean-freak remained silent and watched as I hurled and flung the colors at the canvas, and splattered them over myself too.
But it was not long before the two voices in my head broke into a battle again. The chaos caused me indescribable pain. I heard myself scream words, sentences and phrases that I’d kept to myself for so many years. I felt the voice that used to tell me to shut up, choke to death. And for the first time in my life, I knew what it felt like to be truly free.
I looked at the mess I’d just finished creating on the canvas. I was in charge of what happened on that canvas. I am in charge of my life. I should live it the way I want to. I might create a mess, I might fall on my face, and I might regret making certain choices. But I know that in the end, it will be the voice of my heart, not the voice of other people, which will lead me to the right place. Now I could either stay silent or I could speak up. I chose the latter. I made the first choice of my life, and I never looked back.
I set out to learn the final part of a race I’m doing in a few weeks called 9 Dragons. It’s a 50/50 race, meaning there is a 50 mile race on the Saturday then 50km on the Sunday. I’m only doing the latter, but a few people I know are doing the two back to back. Nine Dragons is the literal translation of the name Kowloon; the part of the city to the north of Hong Kong’s harbour. Legend has it that Emperor Bing of Song was travelling through and saw the eight mountains surrounding the area, so he decided to call it Eight Dragons. But one of his aides told him, no, it should be called nine dragons as the emperor is the ninth dragon. I sincerely hope this aide’s sycophancy was rewarded with a promotion to the rank of eunuch.
My route began at Golden Hill, AKA Monkey Mountain. The place is overrun with macaques, thousands of them. They have totally lost all fear of humans, or moving cars for that matter. They are fast with sharp teeth and claws and there are loads of them. Don’t let them see you with food.
Anyway, the reason I showed you the map of my route is that it coincides with the line of defences built to defend Hong Kong from Japanese attack during the second world war. The first time I was up in these hills I had no idea all this existed, so I was surprised to stumble upon a series of tunnel entrances, each of which had the name of a London street written above it.
Here is Shaftesbury Avenue:
Called Gin Drinker’s Line (after Gin Drinker’s Bay, which lies at it’s western end) the defences were modelled on the Maginot Line, constructed to defend France from German attack. The fortifications were expected to be able to hold out against a Japanese land invasion for at least three weeks. However, the British didn’t think that the Japanese were likely to launch any kind of surprise attack, so the Gin Drinker’s Line was left massively undermanned overnight.
On the night of December 9 1941, a single team of ten Japanese soldiers made a sneak attack. It seems that they were as surprised as anyone when the attack succeeded. Not having expected to break through the defences so easily, the Japanese had to call in more forces to chase the British back to Hong Kong Island.
The occupation that followed was an extremely dark period of Hong Kong’s history, encapsulated by another site I came across yesterday. On a section of the trail I haven’t explored before, I came across a cave that didn’t look like part of the defences, really just a roughly dug-out hole in the hillside. It turns out that this was an ambush tunnel dug by Japanese forces during the battle for Hong Kong in 1941. I’ve done a little research onto what this tunnel was and how it was used. The tunnel was barely big enough to hold five or six attackers, their job would have been to ambush and inflict as many casualties as possible on a much larger group of soldiers. With no escape route and massively outnumbered, the attackers would have known they had very little chance of survival themselves.
We also get held hostage by the park deers in Nara, Japan; they really search through your pockets for cookies -- didn't it happen to you Marisa?
co-director (m) wrote on Jan 23:
In Vietnam, We were once held hostage for a bit by some vicious monkeys on an island called 'Monkey Island'- The tide had gone out to expose the mussels stuck along the edge of the dock near our boat and which they were guarding ferociously.
marisa wrote on Jan 22:
funny to warn about the monkeys!
I had a run-in with a monkey in Nara, Japan,
near the waterfall. I was sitting in the back of my friend's van loading my camera when one ran across the parking lot and jumped into the seat besides me. it first grabbed my camera, then tossed it aside to grab our lunch, then
climbed up front to play with the steering wheel a little before jumping out. it ate our lunch within site،, not at all afraid of us.
cool creature, and I did get some nice photos!
three months in
Wednesday was the three month anniversary of life in our new home,
and to celebrate, I started rebuilding the fence,
using bamboo found along the boundary between our properties.
“good fences make good neighbors”
Another day of beautiful weather, so we spent most of the day outside,
first clearing blackberries at the ruin, which has gotten to be more fun.
Along the west façade, there is a knee deep stack of harvested cork,
some pieces that are real gems: hollowed rounds perfect as planters
and long flats for the sidewalk, all destined to landscape around our house.
And now that I can actually work inside the ruin, I feel like an archaeologist,
unearthing bits of wall and roof tiles, all covered in liverwort and mushrooms,
clearing out the old thorny canes, while freeing the honeysuckles for transplanting.
As it turned back to Northern transplanting time, coinciding with Flower time,
we began the transplanting, replanting honeysuckles along the fence infront of the ruin.
We only got about half of the fence completed, so will resume during the next Flower time.
We have spent a lot of time rehabilitating that whole section of the property,
as it got washed out, and muddy and mucky during the well-drilling operation.
So almost daily we spend time flattening the ruts, laying grasses over the mud,
and covering the whole area with a layer of eucalyptus mulch,
which we collect in buckets roadside on our way back
from picking up Marmalade from school each day.
And, I’m pleased to report that after a month and a half of kindergarten,
Marmalade has finally adapted to school.
Before, she would look teary-eyed as I carried her out each day,
but now, she wants to stay and play outside with her friends.
Thank goodness.
The garden is coming along quite well,
some things had been slow to sprout,
but almost everything is growing fine,
and some, like the onions, radishes and arugula,
are growing beyond imagination.
As Mohamed commented: “the radishes look ravishing!”
Friday was a Leaf day, so I began transplanting
some variegated leafy plants from the ruin
to cork planters in front of the bathroom wall.
And as wild mint gets accidentally uprooted while clearing overgrowth,
that gets transplanted too, into their own cork containers.
Before the end of Transplanting time (about two weeks),
we hope to transplant out all the honeysuckle from inside the ruin,
as well as a small tree/giant shrub that is growing in the center of the main room.
We also need to continue to transplant grass from the garden to our naturkeller roof,
so that the view from the kitchen window will be green,
and so there will be room to plant some red potato “eyes”
once we get through this real cold snap.
Our pond has been filling nicely,
bubbling and gurgling as the levels rise.
There haven’t been any wildlife moving in yet,
aside from the occasional thirsty bird and mating dragonflies,
but perhaps in the Spring we will find some tadpoles to move over.
That's the best news about Marmalade adjusting to the new "social" environment and making friends. How amazing, in another foreign language -- the best education you could give to little people in this bizarre time.
co-director (m) wrote on Jan 17:
Happy MoonFarm anniversary (mooniversary?). Its really coming along!
Urban Exploration
After last month’s post about exploring abandoned villages I want to tell you a little bit more about opportunities for urban exploration in Hong Kong. When I first arrived in the city I found it a real challenge to engage with the history of the place. My ballardian high-rise apartment just wasn’t conducive to doing psychogeography. But since moving to an older (tattier) flat in another part of town I have been coming across all sorts of interesting local history. I recently discovered that the area just behind my new flat was the site of a village where the third bubonic plague epidemic arrived in Hong Kong in 1894. The British occupiers burned the village to the ground to stop the spread of the plague, but not before the Franco-Swiss scientist Alexandre Yersin had arrived and become the first person to successfully isolate the bacillus that causes bubonic plague.
A distant folk-memory of these events seems to persist in local coffin workshops and temples and during the annual hungry ghost festival in August, when offerings are burnt in the street to appease restless spirits.
Anyway, there are a couple of very easily accessible sites for exploration that I discovered early on in my time in Hong Kong. The first is Kowloon Walled City Park.
At its height in the late 80s, Kowloon Walled City was home to around 33,000 people inside a plot measuring just 210 x 120 metres. Its reputation is one of lawlessness and squalor, but the walled city’s population formed a close-knit community, surviving with apparently little or no external government support.
Over the decades more and more buildings were crammed into the small space, around 350 buildings packed in, around and on top of one-another, reaching up to 14 storeys high. It was possible to traverse the city from end to end through its dense network of passageways without touching the ground.
In the 1990s the whole place was demolished and a park built in its place. Some of the foundations of the walled city can still be found there, along with this bronze model of the city as it once was:
Not far from Kowloon Walled City Park is the old Kai Tak Airport. Kai Tak closed in 1998, but in its day it was notorious as one of the most difficult places to land as a pilot, and most terrifying as a passenger. Approaching Kai Tak’s runway from the north, planes had to fly low over a range of hills and make a dramatic last-second turn to avoid the skyscrapers of Kowloon and reach the runway.
Today, what appears to be a newly built but empty airport terminal building stands on the site of the old runway:
It is, in fact, a cruise ship terminal, big enough to accommodate thousands of passengers, but vacant for the majority of the time when no ship is docked.
At long last, let’s drink some beers — err…or… kombucha beers!
The first glass on the left is a souvenir from Beaverton Brewery in London, England. They make some really great beers and the owner is the son of Robert Plant! In that glass is my final product from combining Wort + Kombucha + Ale yeast (approx 3:1 ratio of wort:sour kombucha). This one tastes very hoppy with long lingering bitterness. The citra hop is known for its tropical fruit and citrus aromas, especially grapefruit, melon, lime, and passion fruit. Definitely one of my favourite hops. Though the earthiness is nice, the bitterness could be a more subtle. Note to reduce early boil hops in future brew. There is good balance between sweetness from the wort and sugar with the tartness and funk of the kombucha. Upon further tasting, lovely grassy notes also pop up. My friends who like hoppy beers really dig this one. Wonderful bright beer-kombucha.
The glass on the right is from Muskoka Brewery. My friend who owns a bar gave me six of these! I created this concoction from Wort + Ale yeast fermented for one week, then blended with fresh kombucha (tart, but not overly sour) for a 3 week secondary fermentation. Wort to kombucha ratio of approx 1:1 (to be exact, it would be 13:10). This brew is very, very dry, and surprisingly not that sour, nor that hoppy. Since this is close to a 50/50 blend of wort + kombucha, stronger characteristic were tamed, and tartness was also milder as fresher kombucha was used in this brew. I noticed that there was strong yeast activity when the kombucha was introduced for secondary fermentation. This blend tastes like a dry white wine with a touch of dry cider. I would like to try to make this kombucha-beer again with saison yeast. Saison yeast brings out some spicy and lemony characteristics and would work nicely with the kombucha.
The glass in the centre is from Bellwoods Brewery. I love their beers! This glass holds my Kombucha + Ale yeast brew. I wanted to elevate my kombucha to an adult drink, so I figure I should give it an adult glass. Ha. Everything also tastes better in a stem glass. This one is the most sour of the three. It’s generally an alcoholic version of kombucha. It tastes like a sour white wine, with a dose of lemony apple cider, and some funky notes. My boyfriend raved about this one, saying that I could get rich with this brew by reaching out to celiacs and health practitioners alike with an alcoholic kombucha. Hmmm… maybe?
WHOA, GETTING DRUNK MAKING THESE TASTING NOTES!
I still have yet to mention my Wort + Scoby and Wort + Kombucha + Scoby experiments. I sampled both brews, and though they were both very sour from the scoby, they just didn’t taste finished. The scoby’s yeast and bacteria is meant to digest and work with more simple sugars rather than the complex sugars found in wort. Even though both brews don’t need to be any more sour, I want to age them both a bit longer. So, I removed the scobys and closed up the fermentation vessels. I also feel they need something else as well to make them more interesting. I just picked up the ingredients on Friday — hush hush, it’s a secret until my next entry 😉
I just had my first kombucha two weeks ago! And it was really nice; taste sweet but actually not thaaaat sweet, rather nectarous I remember!
Joyce Lau wrote on Jan 18:
It’s been fun experimenting! Wish I had a microscope to see what’s happening inside the liquid. I’m getting super dorky thinking about the microbiology involved in fermentation ?
Lee Churchill wrote on Jan 16:
Hmm, cool. I don't like beer. But I do like kombucha, so I wonder would I like these? :-) It seems very exciting.
co-director (s) wrote on Jan 16:
Yay! Congratulations on your first tasting session!! Sounds amazing and this makes me feel like a total ignorant but I'll be honest, I really had no idea what that strange name thing, Kambucha? that people seem to be talking about in the world was --until you came on board! (I still really don't until I taste it) Nor Robert Plant's son runs a brewery. I do agree, with your BF, even without tasting the one, that you could get rich! This whole process and endeavour feels so worth that. (then support artists on hiatus ^^)
co-director (m) wrote on Jan 16:
I'd like to try all these! The look so delicious!
Learning so much from your posts Joyce. Thanks.
Blisters and adventures
Last weekend was the second round of King of The Hills. Here are the hills in question:
This time last year people were freaking out because Hong Kong was experiencing frost for possibly the first time. There were pictures in the news of people tobogganing, which raises questions; where do you buy a toboggan in Hong Kong? Where in your tiny Hong Kong apartment do plan on storing that toboggan until the next time it gets cold? It wasn’t even snow, just frost and people were trying to toboggan on it. Maybe I imagined the whole thing…
I digress. This year, unfortunately for Hong Kong’s toboggan owners, winter forgot to arrive. So this King of The Hills race took place on an unseasonably hot day.
While billed as a mountain marathon, the race was forced to take a shortcut as one of the trails that it would otherwise have followed was closed while maintenance is carried out on the cable car that runs above it.
My nice fast trail racing shoes had developed a hole in the upper and the sole was starting to fall apart. Luckily, the shoes held out until the end of the race, but left me with the biggest and ugliest blister I’ve ever had. I made it to the finish in a satisfying tenth place.
I cannot afford to continue destroying running shoes at my current rate, so will be switching to another brand.
Anyway, after taking Monday and Tuesday to recover I set off on a challenge I’d been planning for myself for a couple of weeks.
I wanted to visit every peak taller than 400 metres on Hong Kong Island in a single run. For the sake of neatness the run would start at Chai Wan, the easternmost terminal station on the island MTR (subway) line and end at Kennedy Town, the westernmost station.
Here are the peaks in question.
Peaks 1,2 & 3. Mount Parker; there are three peaks on Mt. Parker, two of which are accessible via a paved road and are occupied by radio stations. However, I chose an as-the-crow-flies route straight up through the forest.
4. Mount Butler; an easy to follow trail, which was a relief after my rugged route over Mount Parker.
5. Siu Ma Shan; I believe the name translates as Little Horse Hill, not to be confused with Ma On Shan (Horse Saddle Mountain). Don’t rely on my translations being spot-on here.
6. Jardine’s Lookout.
7,8 & 9. Violet Hill; this is where things got tricky. Like Mt. Parker, the top of violet hill is split into three distinct peaks, two of which are easy to access along well maintained trails. The trail leading to the third peak, while appearing on maps, is very hard to find and led to me getting stuck in endless, practically impenetrable thicket.
10. Mount Nicholson; After my struggles on Violet Hill I was nervous approaching this hill as the route I had planned seems to be very rarely used. It required a bit of scrambling, verging on bouldering, but turned out to be a nice climb.
11. Mount Cameron; again, a very rarely used trail by the looks of things, but some great views over the city.
12. Mount Gough; the next part of my run led through the winding roads that serve the hilltop mansions overlooking the city. There is some very expensive looking real estate sitting on the actual summit of Mount Gough so my route only came within a few meters of the top.
13. Mount Kellett; like Mount Gough, this hill is covered with mansions. With some ferocious guard dogs.
14. Victoria Peak; dodging tourists around the Peak Galleria and the Peak Tram, I headed for the penultimate summit. The very top is closed to the public and occupied by a radio antenna.
15. High West; I saved one of my favourites for last. The route down from High West is marked on Google Maps as ‘treacherous trail’, but was no problem compared to some of the other places I’d passed through that afternoon.
After a few accidental detours and and diversions, the whole route took hours longer than anticipated. Maybe one day I’ll want to go back and improve on this run. But not for a while yet.
“i’m the biggest example of survival,” says Shehroz of his Hiatus
“Looking at other actors become heartthrobs right in front of me and seeing them bag roles right under my nose has never disturbed me whatsoever. I am the biggest example of survival because I have great faith and to me, those years were the waiting period for something mind-blowing and here I am, finally doing a film that’s worthwhile.” said shehroz.
I caught up with this actor who was on- hiatus to learn a bit more about his film, which may put him back in the spot light.
I met an old friend of mine almost after a year and was shocked to know that he was on hiatus too. Before I proceed further with his story, I would like to just give a little introduction of this guy. We both graduated from National College of Arts in the same year but with different disciplines, me with fine arts and he did bachelors in film making. He has been working in media as an actor for quite a long time and was quite famous. He is a good looking boy with a bonus of having strong family background of film making. Being the only son of a renowned film actor, he inherited acting skills.
After college we got busy in our own lives. He was on the peak of his career when we have met a year ago but today when I saw him and the conversation began I was completely shocked to hear him saying that he was not working for more than two years.….. But he thinks that the upcoming year looks like an optimistic one.
“Five years ago I thought I should do a film and I have been in talks with a director ever since but nothing shaped up. At times I’d get really upset since my dream has always been to work with an actual filmmaker, and he’s one of the best. I got a call from the director a month ago and he told me that he had finally written a character that he felt could fit my personality. I said yes without even reading the script. The film follows the journey of a small-time musician who falls madly in love with an influential politician’s daughter and the film offers a rollercoaster of emotions, slight thrill being shot in the city, the film will be wrapped up by the end of February. I had a very small window to prepare for the character of a musician. We went on floors just a few days after the official announcement. However, through YouTube tutorials I have learnt how to play the guitar and the saxophone so I am sure when people will watch the film, they will know I am not faking.”
Shehroz’s real-life father and seasoned actor will be seen portraying his reel-life father. Shehroz is happy to be back; after all it has been al-most a decade since he first appeared in his uncle directorial film.
“I have grown up on sets, I have seen actors come and go, I have seen their graphs go up and down, I have seen my uncle (a re known actor/director) rise again and so I am way past that,”
I’ve misplaced my laptop. I put it “somewhere safe”. It will turn up. These things always do.
I started a post on Dec 19th that I’ll let lie since it wasn’t that profound anyway.
In the intervening weeks I’ve done Christmas things – Christmas concerts (small children singing and dancing! :’D), Christmas food (toooo much food!), visitors, fires, candles! Christmas presents! Some handmade – I bound journals for both my boyos. We made gingerbread houses (late but better than not!) We went out to sled and skate and visit the local historic village. In short everything the season is supposed to be.
Some things were obviously different.
But the great thing about having kids is that even when we weren’t particularly feeling that festive we upped our game to make sure they still had a wonderful time. “Fake it ’til you make it” at it’s best.
If you would like the snow, please have it! I'd be happy to share! :-D
co-director (m) wrote on Jan 20:
I think even Montreal is jealous of that snow this year :)
Wayne Lim wrote on Jan 20:
I am sooo jealous of all that snowwww!
co-director (m) wrote on Jan 11:
Looks like a lovely hiatus hiatus :) Happy New Year Lee
incredible winter weather
While it’s been so nice outside, we’ve been continuing to work on the house,
using the cork siding scraps to replace the foam sections of our façade.
This weekend, we worked on the coldest, dampest, shadiest part of our house,
the section on the North side where the bathroom joins to the kitchen,
which turned out to be a much larger project than we originally hoped.
This section of wall was filled with styrofoam and spray insulation foam,
and besides being an eyesore, it was very welcoming to the mice,
who easily bored a hole through the mishmash of foam,
which caused the wood directly underneath to rot,
allowing them, and anything else, an access into the bathroom wall.
So after scraping out all of the old foam,
Mohamed cut away and replaced a section of rotted wood,
and added two more panels of wood that were missing.
Then another tube of silicon to seal the seams and fill the mouse-holes,
and the roofline of the kitchen and the far wall of our bedroom.
Then we cut and fitted the cork into the cleared out space,
which will hopefully keep the bathroom warmer,
since the mouse-hole went directly from the outside into the bathroom,
into a section of spray foam surrounding the sewage pipe next to the toilet,
causing an unpleasant draft during the cool morning hours.
Otherwise, during the Fruit time, I finished weeding and mulching all of the old fruit trees,
so they should be prepared for any cold spells that might befall us before Spring.
And Marmalade and I planted more peas and snow peas in the garden.
And I spent the afternoon moving and arranging natural cork pieces around our house
(I’ve found a huge pile of cork bark while clearing away the blackberries from the ruin,
some large sheets, great for the sidewalk, some smaller flat pieces for stepping stones,
and some hollowed-out rounds, perfect to fill with soil and use as planters.
Meanwhile, the birdsong and warm weather has really been invigorating…
never did we imagine the weather would be so nice here!
Speaking of birds, we have a small robin who keeps coming to visit,
at first stopping at the doorstep, but recently venturing further,
under the table in the living room, then exploring everywhere; and frequently,
several times a day walking into a room and seeing him perched on something.
Since yesterday it turned into Root time,
I started soaking some organic rainbow beet seeds
for sowing this afternoon after Marmalade returned from school.
She gets a bit impatient while I’m preparing the soil,
but she’s very diligent while planting,
ensuring the seeds go where they should
and covering over them once planted.
She’s shown so much growth while gardening.
(Thanks Dad for the seeds!)
This morning was our coldest yet, frost everywhere,
even our pond had a thin layer of ice on top.
Our water lines were frozen until mid-morning,
but the house remained relatively warm from the fire the night before,
so I guess all the cork siding and silicon caulking has worked.
A little after dawn, the sun started melting the frost on the hillside,
and by mid-morning the sun was hot, it became a really warm day.
So much so that we decided to seek shade for our afternoon project:
felling a tree in the woods.
Awhile back, after a windstorm,
I noticed a dead eucalyptus tree leaning across a trail in the woods.
It was a big tree, and already dead, so perfect for firewood,
and yielding enough wood for us to keep warm all winter,
probably with extra for cooking out in the Springtime.
It was solid, hard as hell to saw through,
and hard to actually get to the ground,
as the top was caught up on the hillside across the path.
But eventually we got it into pieces and dragged it home.
All in all. it was a lovely afternoon in the woods,
with the birdsong and the babbling stream,
and the incredible smell of eucalyptus in bloom.
And warm.
There was a bumper sticker I once saw in Vermont:
“cut your own wood and it warms you twice”
I like collecting firewood: finding it, sawing it, dragging it home.
I like building fires, I like the bone-warming heat they provide,
the glow, the whispery wind through the stove when the flames flare up…
You can never be “on hiatus” as an artist. Even if you are wrapped in different packaging (like me as an event manager) but an artist remains an artist somehow and it happens to everyone.
What made my life busier is the added incentive to my monthly income a drawing teacher. This happened when I was at a stationary shop for buying some stuff for the office and a mother of a 9 year old child came to me and asked “are you an artist? Are you teaching art somewhere?” and I was shocked to hear that how did she know that I am ex artist. Her question left me speechless. After two days she visited my place and had a cup of tea with me. The conversation began….. She told me that she was looking for an art teacher for quite a long time for her child. I told her that I have no teaching experience of art. But the moment I saw that kid with bright eyes full of passion I could not refuse her I don’t know for what reason. Anyways, he started coming to my place every day for one hour drawing class.
It’s been more than a month now. Initially in first two classes I was totally blank. But with the passage of time I have started enjoying going back to times and revising the basic art lessons. This whole one month experience took me back to my foundation year of BFA.
Today was his last day of drawing course. During these classes I myself have developed a little interest in drawing again. But today when he left I find myself again on hiatus. I think at times my mind just accelerate with artistic thoughts and began to think creatively but for some reason my hands are unable to work in coordination with my mind while drawing or sketching an idea. I think I still need some more time to think about it either I want to quit or continue.
I was quite happy with the non-artistic office work and not being surrounded by the people of art circle anymore. As I have mentioned in my previous post that I have started working as an event co-coordinator with an event management company and me as an event manager it has dominated the first half of me as an artist. I was very happy because over here I was supposed to do something which is not related to producing art. For example, I am currently designing a course outline for a workshop to be conducted in February 2017 on event management.
I think this art class has disturbed my routine again and left me again in the deep confusion and threatened me again that “it perhaps is not dead as yet” which will make burden on my mind harder to bear in 2017.
Talking about marriage is the biggest social taboo in the sub-continent. Arrange marriage is an institution. People anticipating an arranged marriage isn’t actively involved in the partner selection process. The actual man or women about to be married is not the only factor to be considered. Indeed people use the other factors to offset their shortcomings in the more obvious departments, such as looks or employment. The situation of getting an arranged marriage proposal for a girl with above average looks is “too good to be true” unless your family credentials are also pretty exceptional.
This post is about my recent “on hiatus” activity i.e. arranging a matrimonial match-making event in the town named “HIM & HER”
This initiative was taken to encounter the essential unreality of matrimonial relationships being made as a result of arranged or forced marriages-a biggest social taboo, what starts out as hope, soon becomes finessed into a hegemony of power, leaving only a sense of chaos and the possibility of a new reality. The relationship which is supposed to be based on love and extreme willingness, if is based on force how would it be like.
The purpose of this event was to provide a platform for the essential advisory services for marriage in a healthy and comfortable environment and to raise voice against the taboo of late or second marriage, or looking for your spouse by yourself.
Being the pioniers of bringing this concept in Pakistan, we were highly appreciated not only by the words of mouth but have also got a tremendous response country wide via our social media page. We haven’t got any negative criticism, not even a single comment which was not in the favor of this initiative.
Unlike the usual events e.g. concluding a movie premier, a concert or a cultural festival, HIM & HER was a big challenge because meeting the recreational purpose is much easier than meeting up the emotional contentment of an individual. This platform has proved to be a blessing for all those who lack the usual channel of getting a marriage proposal. We have been successful enough in concluding a successful event as far as the arrangements and meeting up the deadline is concerned but I think that we have not been that successful in meeting up the true purpose of this event. On one side where people have walked in with high hopes and bright eyes to the venue on the other hand they left with a bit disappointment. This could have been referred as a great play with human emotions. For some reason we haven’t done justice to each one of them.
Happy New Year of Rooster to everyone in the RFAOH community!! Passed over by the evil fairies of 2016, last year was great for RFAOH, being able to commence our 3rd residency period with great new residents, and chances to meet with our ex-residents. Thank you all for your continuous support — we look forward to more cheer for and excitement with artists on hiatus in 2017 — Stay tuned for more news here or updates of our residents’ reports through our FB fan page‘s notification!
In a previous post I mentioned that I should tell you about Hong Kong’s taxis; in short they are uniquely awkward and confusing. On the other hand they are incredibly cheap. My favourite thing about Hong Kong taxis is the phones on the dashboard; drivers will have, on average, four phones mounted on their dashboard which they will operate throughout your journey, even while travelling at speed on the motorway. Fewer than four phones suggests that your driver is something of an amateur. I have seen as many as six phones plus a paper notepad mounted above the steering wheel, almost entirely blocking the driver’s view of the road.
The first thing you need to know is that taxis come in three colours; blue, green and red. I’ve only ever been in a blue one once or twice, they are only allowed to operate on Lantau Island. It’s a large area and close to the airport. But it is sparsely populated and the blue taxis are not allowed to leave the island and take you elsewhere else. There are only fifty blue taxis.
The green ones are a little more useful. They can take you anywhere in the New Territories, a huge area taking up the whole north of Hong Kong and containing several large towns. But the green taxis are not allowed to take you to Hong Kong Island or Kowloon, where most jobs and businesses are based.
The red ones serve Kowloon and Hong Kong Island, but don’t go where the green taxis or blue taxis go and are a little more expensive. There are two types of red taxi, some serve Kowloon and will refuse to cross the harbour to Hong Kong Island (a five minute drive) some serve Hong Kong Island and will refuse to cross the harbour to Kowloon. There is a way to tell the two types of red taxi apart, but I have never worked out what it is.
I have had taxi drivers refuse to take me because the journey is too short and not worth their while and because the journey is too long and will take too much time. I’ve also had them tell me:
“You’ll have to get out here, I have lunch plans”
“I’m not going that way, but I can take you somewhere else instead”
“I can’t take you there because I don’t know the way back”
It’s totally illegal for the driver to act like this, but probably a direct consequence of the economic pressure placed on them by the city’s taxi licensing system. There are 18,138 taxi licenses in Hong Kong. The majority of these licenses are owned by investors who rent their license and car to drivers on a shift basis. The licenses change hands for millions of dollars and the cost is passed to the drivers, who pay up to $800 a day to drive the car. So the drivers become very selective about which fares they accept.
Raising fares would take this pressure off the drivers, but wouldn’t solve the problem of the price bubble around the taxi licenses. And it seems that the license owners have sufficient political clout to make sure that the price bubble won’t be burst by the introduction of new licenses.
Uber is here, but is considerably more expensive than taxis. As they can't compete on price they're marketed on luxury and reliability.
co-director (s) wrote on Jan 5:
So clearly, no Uber in Hong Kong, and it likely won't be forever?
Originally coming from and having done a fair amount of travelling in Asia, I find North America "too simple" that, in my opinion, creates other kinds of problems, or they *try* to make it complicated to fill in the gap or something. It's a good thing I too enjoy walking/biking here.
Welcoming 2017 with some fresh drannnks!
A lot has happened since my last post, and all my brews are now ready to drink! But I will try to touch upon some of the steps since my last post on transferring to secondary fermentation before jumping the gun on how the brews turned out.
I did straight transfers to secondary with my Wort + Kombucha + Ale yeast blend (carboy #2 above) and my Kombucha + Ale yeast brew (carboy #3 above). But I blended my half gallon Wort + Ale yeast brew with 1200mL of freshly fermented kombucha (that had fermented for 1 week) then transferred this new mixture into a one gallon carboy to continue its transfomation into a mysterious and hopefully delightful concoction (carboy #4).
With carboy #1, I transferred what was an open fermentation of Wort + Scoby brew to a closed fermentation to continue in a beer brewing manner, and to halt the souring process. However, in the picture below, I decided to keep an open fermentation with the Wort + Kombucha + Scoby brew to maintain one of my experiments in the tradition of kombucha brewing. Trying to keep things balanced! I debated also transferring this brew to a closed fermentation, but ultimately decided against it; however, it really stirred a world of possibilities. The multitude of varying combinations of experiments are truly limitless.
Oh, and my collection my beer bottles makes a guest appearance in the top photo 😉 I threw out most of them when I moved (nope, I’m not moving empty bottles, just not gonna do it… but then I did. haha), but kept a small selection. I have sentimental attachments to pretty much everything. Sigh.
We’ve been fortunate so far this winter with really mild weather.
Actually, I’m not sure that for here this is “mild” weather,
but sunny days in the mid-60’s (F, around 16-18 C)
is far nicer than we expected when we packed up to move here.
But our neighbors warned that this was predicted to be a really cold winter,
so we are trying to get prepared with firewood and such.
Mohamed came down with a cold earlier in the week,
probably from the drastic differences in temperature from day to night
(we get a healthy frosting each night, which melts by midmorning).
I caught his cold a few days later, and felt downright awful for a full day,
causing me to dig out our medicinal teas, herbal cough drops, and wear a scarf.
I became much more sensitive to the drafts in our house,
noticing that certain areas always felt cold and breezy,
even when the rest of the house was warm.
So we investigated our exterior walls more thoroughly,
and took note of several gaps and cracks and problem areas,
(that we saw before, back when our bathroom had been our top priority)
including three small sections of wall that were just filled with foam
(our wooden house is a composite of three garden houses,
and between them hollow walls, that were just stuffed with styrofoam).
So once we felt a little better, we filled the gaps,
put up some wooden panels along the roof line,
and a few tubes of silicon to seal all the cracks,
and go around several of our windows.
Then we used our extra pieces of cork siding
to male small sections to cover over the hollow walls,
creating cool little stripes of cork between the white wood of the garden houses.
Overall, much warmer,
especially in our bedroom!
Otherwise, we’ve been having a quiet holiday,
doing puzzles, reading books and watercolor painting with Marmalade,
watching our mole in action with its own home-improvement projects,
and cutting away more of the blackberries surrounding the ruin.
Yesterday I made it to the cornerstone,
finding cute little mushrooms had made it there before me,
and by this afternoon I could actually see inside to the “floor”.
Marmalade has been asking for relatives to come and visit her,
(as Skype is nice, but not the same as a real family visit)
so I’ve been working on the ruin so we have a place for everyone to stay,
hopefully by this Springtime.
While out in the garden,
a white passenger van drove by,
one that we’ve waved to often,
and often “beeps” in return.
They slowed down to a halt,
and shouted out the window
“Happy New Year!”
wow, they do!
they are Clavaria vermicularis, commonly known as worm-like coral fungus, and are edible, widespread and common, so perhaps the author was inspired by them as well. Funny, in the stories, they are silent wanderers,
yet we think of mushrooms are quite sedentary.
Though mushroom spores can survive space travel,
so perhaps they are as alien as they look!
Its been long time that i was quite confused about what should i write in the next post. “Negatives at work place” was the reason of not being in touch with RFAOH in the whole month of December. But the email that i received yesterday from you have actually compelled me to write this post expressing my current situation. I have started working with an event management company for the last 5 weeks. It was my first experience of job and i am jotting down few thoughts expressing my experience.
A living organisation would never deny that it is filled with both emotions of positivism and negativism. Every single organisation, every work station, every division, is always surrounded by colleagues, who are unfortunately ‘possessed’ of negative tendencies.
They can only see the dark, the very dark clouds in almost every facet of life. They are even blinded to the promise of the silver linings behind these dark clouds. They ignore them and hence are obvious to the potential of the ‘silver linings’ attached to difficulties in work and life. These are seen by the negatively oriented as a scientific deception to looming depression of clouds. They do not realize that even the longest day has an end.
Negatively inclined colleagues, you would find rush to quickly point loopholes even in the best of initiatives. They would never look at half a glass as an opportunity; they would only crib and complain why it isn’t full! These types of colleagues are like the hyenas they lark in office corridors waiting for the unsuspecting positive colleague and then attack them venomously with negative news; depressing views, unsubstantiated hearsay that could be of no relevance to either of them, but it is done with the sole motive to rob the individual of the positive energy. They think that their job description is to cause incorrect-able pollution of minds.
I have always identified these individuals with the glorious nick-name of ‘corporate mother-in-laws’. They love the language of sarcasm and taunt. They enjoy teasing. They relish in derailing people from their goals.
None could break through the great wall of negativism that they had so lovingly built around themselves. It is another matter that later in life the same became his career’s prison walls. He entrapped himself in negativity; while the positive world around him moved forward. The man who never moved forward. The man who never alters his opinion is like standing water, and breeds reptile of the mind, as said by (William Blake).
In dealing with those colleagues who are affiliated with this trait, it is best firstly to accept, that we are dealing with some bacteria for which no corporate vaccine or antibiotic has been found. In fact, it is a stage four cancer at its very beginning itself for it is bound to eat away from within the good cells of the organisation. Treatment therefore has to begin before its lethal onset. Unchecked it can become endemic and epidemic.
If recognition of the problem individuals is fast, speedy, and quick, then it is safe to rely upon the age old held opinion that negativism is impermanent because it is on conflict with man’s innate nature of being positive. I think that a door shut is an opportunity that it can be opened and unlocked. Negativism in life is a waste of time. Positivity prompts action.
Negativity always kills passion and effort. As Churchill said, I am an optimist and a positive person because it does not seem to be much use in being anything else.
At the workplace in dealing with these types of individuals, develop a non-sense attitude to the intruder who would want to spend time with you with no good work at hand but only to bite your calmness and to pollute your mind with negativity. Be wary of such colleagues who would otherwise appear out wardly as good intention and positive but in their insides reside oceans of venom waiting to be unleashed upon the shored of positive minds.
I personally believe and subscribe that all reaction to negative news is a broad smile or if necessary a comment on the lines of ‘that could be one way of looking at things’.
Attempt to end conversations with negative colleagues, by asking them to view things differently. Work upon them slowly for conversation to positivity of thought. I am certain only a few dosages would alter their mental makeup barring the die hard and the unfortunate. Why don’t we learn from the bee that sucks the sweetest honey from the bitterest of flowers. Deal gently to get them on rails, otherwise a strong retaliatory reaction would usher more negatives. At times it is the consultation with the ignorant that gives access to unknown wisdom.
There is an Irish saying: count your joys instead of your woes; count your friends instead of your foes. Try to quote this to those in need of a reminder.
It’s 2017, It’s Going to be Better, and More Dangerous?
2016 year is finally over, but the horrids of 2016 recognize no year?! Since the year, is just a measurement. Today did not feel any more fresher just because it’s a new calendar year; it’s really just another day. So, no, it doesn’t feel like it’s a “new year”. Perhaps, this is just my resentment towards the last week of the year, a week (most of the time longer) of anxiety, compounded stress and the fear of being forgotten. A conversation with a friend recently made me think why don’t I try to treat 2017 differently by making New Years resolutions and so, I did it! Although, she said that my goals are not “quantitative” enough and are too personal/subjective.
Attempting #2017 New Year’s resolution on #risk #gettingemployed #newworks #takingcare #drinkingless #newyearsresolution #notart #notartresidency #wayneonhiatus #rfaoh
Which brings me to a particular subject; how does one calculate risk? I have been pondering about this in relation to my kitchen presentation at the DAI. In retrospect, I must admit that I have lived rather riskily in Singapore; being investigated for using a sensitive word (which I’d rather not use here) on my blog at the age of 15/16, charged in court for 7 counts of vandalism at 19, arrested and charged in court again at 23 for illegal driving. I’ve been rather obedient after the last incident simply because I do not want to give any more reasons for the state to “restrict my freedom” due to my “crimes”, jeopardizing my “artistic practice”. And when I say “restricted freedom”, I really meant being locked up.
I began to analyze what encompasses this risk. Hence, the following “quantifying” questions of; what do I want to do that is so gravely dangerous that I have to think in such a way? Am I already traumatized from that 36 hours lock-up? Have I already lost my fight after being handcuffed in my own home that one time? Is this how much faith I have on Singapore (the state)? Would I put unnecessary attention/shame to my family for challenging the system, or the authority? How do I generate controversial narratives without putting my freedom or identity at risk? How much risks can I take as a citizen/an artist before my personal freedom gets impounded? Does it have to be at the expense of an individual — an “exemplary convict”? How can I talk about the fraud committed through the different state apparatuses? How far of an extent is the exploration of the limits of (il)legality done by utilizing a body or by creating a fictitious one, challenging the rhetorics of state apparatuses and thus, questioning the legitimacy of law, authority and power?
I’m just thinking aloud here. I hope this thought exercise can trigger a larger discourse and perhaps an ongoing writing/propositional work.
Now, happy New Year again, to readers, RFAOH crew, all ex and current residents, wherever you are!
Hi Wayne, yes, my fb And an image from Thomas Hirschhorn's Gramsci Monument in the Bronx a few years back.
I actually had read that article last week but thanks for the impetus to re-read it; Another causality of our hyper mediated times is our (my) attention span and or our (my) ability to pick out/retain the important bits from the deluge of information that comes across various feeds. I kind of want to read Mbembe's book now. I'm not sure we can separate politics from economics; at least they always feel perpetually entwined and a kind of ultimate ground (social/cultural) you can never really dig beneath, but maybe we can MacGuyver methods no navigate it or invent knew rhetoric to understand it. You have to actively work within (or fuck around with) the culture to be part of it. Creating ambiguity is opening possibility.
co-director (s) wrote on Jan 5:
Gosh, you sound much cooler than any of us. I got only once suspended from high school for a week. Dah
Happy New Year to you, too! No risk no life (;
Wayne Lim wrote on Jan 4:
Ahh hello Matt! Is that you on facebook?
I can't help it but what a coincidence, I just saw this lecture by Avital Ronnell at the European Graduate School, On Writing a Dissertation:
I think the risk is becoming bigger for everyone, the stakes are higher for anyone to do anything; from spending significantly more in a bio supermarket to whether a newly-wed couple should dump in so much cash to buy a roof over their heads. I'm not sure I can articulate any better than Achille Mbembe in his article, The Age of Humanism is Ending:
Art has come to the forefront again, although this time (a general) against on politics. Unlike before — during the renaissance — when art rose with politics as one of the enlightened paths in creating the imaginaries of the new world. Coming back to Ronnell's, I get this impression of her dealing (very well?) with her schizophrenic self as a writer, not to be subsumed by the endless external hindrance. It's good to learn/know that there are people out there trying too; dealing with the uncertainties, distress and discontents of today's world.
co-director (m) wrote on Jan 3:
Happy New Year Wayne
I feel quantitative reasoning is overrated - lol -- But of course new years resolutions are inherently subjective no?
There is always risk. As an artist, easy risks like rejections, moderate risks like growing old without a pension, or a life hovering around the poverty line, and occasionally (most urgently) in real consequences for falling a foul of the power aparatus of social control. (The level of social control in Singapore is a bit more amped than Canada or the Netherlands, granted) My Foucault is a bit rusty these days but I always have a soft spot for the anti authoritarian "punk" ethos; the Pussy Riots, The Ai Wei Weis, The Goyas and Delocroixs. And though all art is inherently also politics I predict a resurgence of this super-earnest punk-assed spirit in the coming post Brexit, Trumpian dystopia. Though the earnestness of these types of expressions are/will be cathartic I think the potential of art's agency for change truely lies in its ability to be completely irreverant, in its shape shifting ability to assume various forms and its resistance to being pinned down -- Its open ended-ness, in its existence as *nonsense*.
To paraphrase Avital Ronell, To leave things open-ended and radically in-appropriable and admitting it's something beyond our understandning is much less satisfying, more frustrating and much more necessary. The political battles for peoples conciousness and social obedience comes through various promises of meaning - the appropriation of culturally sanctioned rituals, the free market, entertainment and news industries, etc. People are fed and fuelled by promises of immediate gratification in thought and food and junk -- junk thought and junk food and so on -- so there is a politics of refusing that gratification. Art can potentially provide a great areana for that.
Lee wrote on Jan 31:
Thank you, for the luck and the compliments!
ramla fatima wrote on Jan 28:
good luck :)
co-director (s) wrote on Jan 26:
That's an amazing production, Lee! One of my most favourite two types of productions I personally dig -- the exquisitely artistic work with a function, and the work that makes you think about: "the whole world + the work = the whole world".
How lucky she/he is to receive this... Plus, more room in your "studio"!