A series of photos taken with my phone
Friday, July 27, 2012
Wednesday, July 25, 2012
All of these films made me ache, but in different ways
Promote 升级 from magicboi888 on Vimeo.
Fragments of Iceland from Lea et Nicolas Features on Vimeo.
Coldplay - 'Paradise' by Shynola from Shynola on Vimeo.
Promote 升级 from magicboi888 on Vimeo.
Fragments of Iceland from Lea et Nicolas Features on Vimeo.
Coldplay - 'Paradise' by Shynola from Shynola on Vimeo.
Sunday, July 22, 2012
conversation
soothing tea at RealFoodGrocer |
rainbows on table ( Photo credit: Evelyn) |
bookmark from littered with books |
beautiful sky and dragon-shaped cloud |
Sitting on the steps by the river in the slight drizzle watching the boats go by had never felt so peaceful. We talked about the fear of not being able to find ourselves, the sadness we felt upon realizing that we could no longer talk to old friends because people change too much, how tiring it was trying to sustain those friendships, my odd trait of only lending books to people I thought were worthy of them, the wish that we weren't born in this city, our resolution never to become like another office clone trapped in those huge skyscrapers, her dream to become a wedding photographer, social hierarchies and the feeling of being an outsider, being attracted to people who could write, our tendency to idealize people till we fell in love with the idea of them; her ex, her fear of falling in love again-“ I feel like I can never give myself so completely to anyone again. It feels like I've lost a huge part of myself” and the quiet sadness in the way she held herself, and I thought about how life breaks people in places unimaginable and it made me feel heavy inside.
When
it was my turn to talk, I was fumbling, stuttering, I couldn't
speak, couldn't put across what I felt, I couldn't even begin to
explain about him, what did he mean to me then, it was as if I had
buried it so deep that trying to articulate it out felt like a
pointless excavation. Speaking
has never come naturally to me, but I was shocked at how much worse
it'd gotten. Did
something happen, she
asked. I told her no, that I used to talk more in the past. Silently
I added, I think
part of me has died and I don't know why. But
she was so very patient, and eventually the awkward lapses became
less pronounced. She said, as an afterthought,“You're
like a closed book” and
“I sense
that you don't really open up to people easily, and it's difficult
for you to let your guard down” when I apologised about earlier. I
realized that we weren't as alike after all- she was spontaneous and
fickle-minded and impulsive, I was safe and stubborn and resolute. I
marveled at her capacity to care for and love others with such pureness, I could never do that.
Later
on, while tucking into my char siew pau, and she munching on her kaya
toast and hot chocolate (simple joys in life), we lamented on the
unfairness of having to earn the respect of certain people in order
to gain acceptance. Also, we came to a conclusion that we put up our
works online isn't for the sake of selfish reasons like instant
gratification or stupid reasons like validation because we shouldn't
base our self worth on the approval of others. Rather, it's about the
inherent value of art, to use this platform so that our art can
enlighten, inspire and connect with people. (hopefully)
Something
she said struck me, “ In photojournalism, you look for art in the
ordinary moments. But in other photography genres, you create art.
There's a difference.”
Saturday, July 21, 2012
inspiration
Everywhere I look there is so much beauty to be found, I'm so inspired to create something like this:
I need one dollar (New York City) from Gioacchino Petronicce on Vimeo.
BALI, JE T'AIME! from artisland on Vimeo.
By jessechan, go check out his work here
i especially love this quirky film about the class divide in spore (also by jessechan)
I need one dollar (New York City) from Gioacchino Petronicce on Vimeo.
BALI, JE T'AIME! from artisland on Vimeo.
By jessechan, go check out his work here
i especially love this quirky film about the class divide in spore (also by jessechan)
my two cents worth
Here
are some things I've learnt about photography through my Bali trip,
random epiphanies, my visual comm module, my teacher/local filmmaker
Tzang, and discussions with like-minded friends:
As Susan Sontag wrote:
1. In
a new environment, don't rush to take pictures.
Don't
be a trigger-happy, unthinking robot. Susan Sontag said that we
shoot in order to gain a sense of control in an unfamiliar setting,
as a way of “ certifying experience... converting experience into
an image, a souvenir.” Take a few days to immerse yourself in the
new culture, mentally note down potential shots, and then begin
shooting. It's not about shooting every single thing you see. You
need to be discerning. Think about why you're taking the picture.
2. As
Tzang said, photographs
should tell a story.
They
shouldn't just be pretty pictures. Instead they should carry depth
and meaning, and most importantly, make people feel something. Also, remember that less is more.
3. Be assertive
(note: not aggressive) If
you want to photograph something, just do it. Stop worrying about
what others may think.
4.Your
photographs reflect who you are
As Susan Sontag wrote:
“ The photographer was thought to be an acute
but non-interfering observer- a scribe, not a poet. But as people
quickly discovered that nobody takes the same picture of the same
thing, the supposition that cameras furnish an impersonal, objective
image yielded to the fact that photographs are evidence not only of
what's there but of what an individual sees, not
just a record but an evaluation of the world”
And
I have found this so telling of the people I've come across. Evelyn's
shots of charming cafes and pretty fields bathed in soft light and
gorgeous smiles hint at her dreamy and girly personality. Likewise
for my senior Ivan Tan, whose photographs are unbearably beautiful,
yet there are undercurrents of melancholia across his work. And
there's my coursemate who shoots only in film, and regards
himself as an "old soul". I don't know why, but I find this so
fascinating. Through photography, the essence
of people is manifested in tangible form.
5. Step
out of your comfort zone and ask strangers for their portraits
People
bring your pictures to life. In Bali, I finally mustered my courage
to approach strangers, and it was so rewarding to see their
flattered and happy expressions as they posed obligingly for the
camera. I tried doing that in Singapore, which is so much harder because Singaporeans are naturally reserved and guarded. Also, you should never treat people like specimens, it's just
demeaning. This observation by Susan Sontag still haunts me:
“To photograph
people is to violate them, by seeing them as they never see
themselves, by having knowledge of them they can never have; it
turns people into objects that can be symbolically possessed. Just
as the camera is a sublimation of the gun, to photograph something
is a sublimated murder- a soft murder, appropriate to a sad,
frightened time.”
6. Don't
forget to put down your camera
While
photography gives an “appearance of participation” (Sontag), it
can never be substituted for the real thing. Don't be so obsessed
with finding the perfect shot that you forget to live and take in
everything around you.
7. And
finally, as Tzang once told my class: Be
sublime.
Sunday, July 8, 2012
kindred spirit
And
as we talked, I saw how the likeness of ourselves were mirrored in
each other. But you were better than me, a dreamer, someone who was
spontaneous and kind and far braver than myself. Unlike me, you were
not content with languishing in a cesspit
of stagnancy, you acknowledged the need
for change, for reinvention of oneself. You didn't have to delve deep
into yourself, scour murky depths
in order to locate the words- they came
naturally to you. You didn't choose to close yourself off from the
world, or remain indifferent, you didn't pull away when people tried
to reach out for you. You were always on the search for beauty, carefully gathering them up in your hands like fistfuls of stardust.
We shot what we could, falling into an easy rhythm of silence before resuming our conversation, all the while looking into different directions, needing different things for ourselves. You looked more closely, breathing life into inanimate objects with your pictures. While I scavenged for scraps of stories, through the old men hunched over the table playing chess, through children who played in the shadows of their absent parents, through the pair of teenage girls walking side by side with all the confidence their youth granted them, through the office workers waiting outside the bank, through a mirror image, only now there were older folks lining up at the 4D counter, clinging on to the 1 in 75 million chance of hitting the jackpot because to think otherwise would be to forsake hope itself.
Some things we talked about:“sometimes I wish we could do away with small talk altogether”“call me idealistic but there's a romance about Europe you can't find elsewhere” “I like intellectuals, people who think about life" “I wish life would slow down a little” "let's learn to be less afraid”
the resemblance in our thinking is uncanny
We shot what we could, falling into an easy rhythm of silence before resuming our conversation, all the while looking into different directions, needing different things for ourselves. You looked more closely, breathing life into inanimate objects with your pictures. While I scavenged for scraps of stories, through the old men hunched over the table playing chess, through children who played in the shadows of their absent parents, through the pair of teenage girls walking side by side with all the confidence their youth granted them, through the office workers waiting outside the bank, through a mirror image, only now there were older folks lining up at the 4D counter, clinging on to the 1 in 75 million chance of hitting the jackpot because to think otherwise would be to forsake hope itself.
Some things we talked about:“sometimes I wish we could do away with small talk altogether”“call me idealistic but there's a romance about Europe you can't find elsewhere” “I like intellectuals, people who think about life" “I wish life would slow down a little” "let's learn to be less afraid”
the resemblance in our thinking is uncanny
Saturday, July 7, 2012
How
long does it take for one's deadened heart to summon up some modicum
of feeling again (a tempest of sorts brewing beneath the seeming calm), what would it take to break someone completely, what
happens if you punish yourself over and over and eventually the pain
seeps into everything you touch like a slow venom, what does it mean
when you read a book and the words no longer pierce but float
away without you comprehending, maybe if you close your eyes you
could just vanish, it would be as if you'd never existed
Friday, July 6, 2012
Increasingly I find that I'm growing more incoherent in my head and on paper.
Over time, the deluge of words, thoughts, have become thick and
sluggish. Slowly choking up. Till I am rendered an almost-mute, barely articulate, spending my days in so much silence. It
becomes easier to express my life in images instead.
Raise my eye to the viewfinder.
Aim.
Click.
Shoot.
As if an inanimate object has the ability to wholly surmise what I see, what I think, what I feel.
Raise my eye to the viewfinder.
Aim.
Click.
Shoot.
As if an inanimate object has the ability to wholly surmise what I see, what I think, what I feel.
Sunday, July 1, 2012
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