Last week I jammed my left ring finger in between a sliding door during assisting and I bled.
Today, while taking my light stand out from its cover, I cut my hand on the plastic and I bled again.
While swinging my bag across my left shoulder, the strap cut into the back of my head. I couldn't see if I bled.
* * *
Before I woke up today, I dreamt of a murder in a back alley. My shoes were leaving bloody footprints everywhere. Instinctively, I ran, as if the one responsible for the deed was back to finish the job. I saw a headless torso spurting blood from what used to be the neck. I saw an arm flailing from a door, desperately grasping for help.
I didn't scream.
* * *
(rant)
I'm sick of school. I'm sick of projects. At least I had fun doing the shoot this morning, even though I had to miss a class because of it.
One day, I want to be able to photography like how Murakami writes.
Had a min-reunion of classmates from primary school.
Everybody's changed.
Wednesday, February 28
Wednesday, February 21
Searchin'
We go through life searching for something.
Love, riches, fame, peace, family.
I too am on a search, except that I am looking for myself.
But how would I find myself if I am facing the same four walls everyday, worrying about mundane things?
Love, riches, fame, peace, family.
I too am on a search, except that I am looking for myself.
But how would I find myself if I am facing the same four walls everyday, worrying about mundane things?
Thursday, February 15
uh:
Most definitely sick of school. Haven't been keeping in check with deadlines and projects.
This term sucks.
Need to get out of the country soon.
Need to take some pictures soon.
Need to clean my room.
Need to get out of school now.
This term sucks.
Need to get out of the country soon.
Need to take some pictures soon.
Need to clean my room.
Need to get out of school now.
Monday, February 12
Wall
I find myself putting bricks on a wall around my emotional core, to prevent the outside world from screwing with my brain.
Frantically, I hurry to cover up the hole.
It's not like I'm clinically depressed about something but there are times when I read, see photographs, watch a film or listen to a piece of sad music that I find myself being dragged into somebody else's emotional battles. Then again, I recognize that it is only with this internal struggle that I create my best work, simply because I have something to express.
And then I see my peers forced into a myopic world of chasing money and careers. I wonder, do I have the courage to break away from that soulless race and open myself up more to the world. Slowly I find myself losing me. I hardly think critically, hardly get depressed over philosophical issues (I worry about financial stuff now) and all I want to do is to get all these mundane stuff completed.
I think I need some time alone soon, to rediscover myself. To say hello to the meanie deep down. I know he miss screwing around with me.
Frantically, I hurry to cover up the hole.
It's not like I'm clinically depressed about something but there are times when I read, see photographs, watch a film or listen to a piece of sad music that I find myself being dragged into somebody else's emotional battles. Then again, I recognize that it is only with this internal struggle that I create my best work, simply because I have something to express.
And then I see my peers forced into a myopic world of chasing money and careers. I wonder, do I have the courage to break away from that soulless race and open myself up more to the world. Slowly I find myself losing me. I hardly think critically, hardly get depressed over philosophical issues (I worry about financial stuff now) and all I want to do is to get all these mundane stuff completed.
I think I need some time alone soon, to rediscover myself. To say hello to the meanie deep down. I know he miss screwing around with me.
On Journalism/Self-Gratification
I have been calling people incessantly the past 2 weeks arranging interviews for my upcoming project. It makes me feel a little self-conscious each time I call because I feel like a pest (insurance agent). Most of the time, they are nice and make time for me but inevitably I feel like I'm imposing myself a little too hard.
How do journalists do it? To be so thick-skinned and get what they want out of the interviewees. We come from the same level of wanting something out of them but what do we give back in return? A report in the newspaper/inclusion in an exhibition (that's not even fixed yet). It feels more of me being trying to gratify an inner need. By working on my story, I am intruding upon someone's private space and thoughts. It's not even like they have a heart-breaking story that needs to be told to the world, I'm just trying to force them into a particular vision of my ultimate aim onto them - therein lies the difference between my goal and journalism.
However, I could argue on my behalf that by spending time talking to them before the shoot (hopefully starting next week!), I do not just see my interviewees as mere subjects at my disposal. It's more than my own indulgence that I am working on but an effort to understand, on a deeper level, who these people are. Everyone knows how good it feels to pour your heart out to a complete stranger (lol). Somehow, the conversations tend to move away from the subject matter at hand and traverse topics close to their heart. I have heard some bits of their life stories, from drugs to gangsterism to children and role models.
I have yet to begin work proper and yet I feel that something is lacking still. Perhaps I need to reach deeper and get more out of them? Perhaps it is always harder to convince somebody else without something tangible to show. Hopefully once I get some work out, I won't feel so bad anymore and that they'll like the result. Moreover, it would be easier to convince more people for the project. Till then!
[This is the 800th post. Dig that! I think I have enough material to publish a narcissistic monologue.]
How do journalists do it? To be so thick-skinned and get what they want out of the interviewees. We come from the same level of wanting something out of them but what do we give back in return? A report in the newspaper/inclusion in an exhibition (that's not even fixed yet). It feels more of me being trying to gratify an inner need. By working on my story, I am intruding upon someone's private space and thoughts. It's not even like they have a heart-breaking story that needs to be told to the world, I'm just trying to force them into a particular vision of my ultimate aim onto them - therein lies the difference between my goal and journalism.
However, I could argue on my behalf that by spending time talking to them before the shoot (hopefully starting next week!), I do not just see my interviewees as mere subjects at my disposal. It's more than my own indulgence that I am working on but an effort to understand, on a deeper level, who these people are. Everyone knows how good it feels to pour your heart out to a complete stranger (lol). Somehow, the conversations tend to move away from the subject matter at hand and traverse topics close to their heart. I have heard some bits of their life stories, from drugs to gangsterism to children and role models.
I have yet to begin work proper and yet I feel that something is lacking still. Perhaps I need to reach deeper and get more out of them? Perhaps it is always harder to convince somebody else without something tangible to show. Hopefully once I get some work out, I won't feel so bad anymore and that they'll like the result. Moreover, it would be easier to convince more people for the project. Till then!
[This is the 800th post. Dig that! I think I have enough material to publish a narcissistic monologue.]
Sunday, February 11
Motivation, Influences
Why do I photograph?
Many times, I question my own motivation, only to reveal an empty answer. Before I make a generalization on the kind of photographers out there, I have to take a look within myself and find an answer that doesn't sound too pretentious.
It's hard to say what propels me to pick up the camera, perhaps it's the undeniable force of self-expression that bubbles beneath the surface. I can't draw very well (save for Hypomello!), and I find it hard to articulate my thoughts well on paper or speech (mostly ending up with long rambling sentences like this that doesn't make sense). Money is a good motivator when I am doing things I don't like. Being well-known for my photography is another motivator that drives me forward.
Yet there are times when I quietly create a story, crafting out an imaginary story into pixels/halides, hunting for the right elements in the real world. It doesn't necessarily contain an emotion that I want to convey, I just want to get it out of my system. There are also times when I just photograph because I thought that particular moment/subject looked cool and interesting. However, when going through some of those pictures, I cannot but stop and remember what happened then. I create scenes that are sometimes quirky, sometimes dark, sometimes insightful but mostly pointless - very much like the person that I am.
I have not come to terms on why I continue to create. The other day, somebody mentioned that to be a good photographer, you would need inner substance and depth. Do I have that? *Shrugs* Sometimes I wonder what goes through the heads of the photographers that I truly admire, do they create to say something, to document, to excite or for themselves?
My major influences are photojournalists/documenters like Bresson, Doisneau, Diane Arbus, Sebastio Salgado, Alec Soth, Daido Moriyama, James Nachtwey, Antonin Kratochvil, Constantine Manos, and countless more. I like works by Andreas Gursky, Stephen Shore, Dan Holdsworth and Todd Hido for reasons beyond my comprehension. I admire also works by Jeanloup Sieff, Helmut Newton, Arnold Newman, Greg Gorman and other beauty/commercial/advertising photographers. Not to mention my mentors/seniors/friends in Singapore (and Malaysia) who continue to wow and influence me with their dedication and love of the medium.
My further development rests on what I choose to further expose myself to. I am looking forward to reading and finding out more about other forms of art and reading all the novels piled up on my shelf. Yet, inexplicably, I find a need/desire to combine all the above into a single powerful vision, to change the world (ha!) or to make myself a complete human being.
Many times, I question my own motivation, only to reveal an empty answer. Before I make a generalization on the kind of photographers out there, I have to take a look within myself and find an answer that doesn't sound too pretentious.
It's hard to say what propels me to pick up the camera, perhaps it's the undeniable force of self-expression that bubbles beneath the surface. I can't draw very well (save for Hypomello!), and I find it hard to articulate my thoughts well on paper or speech (mostly ending up with long rambling sentences like this that doesn't make sense). Money is a good motivator when I am doing things I don't like. Being well-known for my photography is another motivator that drives me forward.
Yet there are times when I quietly create a story, crafting out an imaginary story into pixels/halides, hunting for the right elements in the real world. It doesn't necessarily contain an emotion that I want to convey, I just want to get it out of my system. There are also times when I just photograph because I thought that particular moment/subject looked cool and interesting. However, when going through some of those pictures, I cannot but stop and remember what happened then. I create scenes that are sometimes quirky, sometimes dark, sometimes insightful but mostly pointless - very much like the person that I am.
I have not come to terms on why I continue to create. The other day, somebody mentioned that to be a good photographer, you would need inner substance and depth. Do I have that? *Shrugs* Sometimes I wonder what goes through the heads of the photographers that I truly admire, do they create to say something, to document, to excite or for themselves?
My major influences are photojournalists/documenters like Bresson, Doisneau, Diane Arbus, Sebastio Salgado, Alec Soth, Daido Moriyama, James Nachtwey, Antonin Kratochvil, Constantine Manos, and countless more. I like works by Andreas Gursky, Stephen Shore, Dan Holdsworth and Todd Hido for reasons beyond my comprehension. I admire also works by Jeanloup Sieff, Helmut Newton, Arnold Newman, Greg Gorman and other beauty/commercial/advertising photographers. Not to mention my mentors/seniors/friends in Singapore (and Malaysia) who continue to wow and influence me with their dedication and love of the medium.
My further development rests on what I choose to further expose myself to. I am looking forward to reading and finding out more about other forms of art and reading all the novels piled up on my shelf. Yet, inexplicably, I find a need/desire to combine all the above into a single powerful vision, to change the world (ha!) or to make myself a complete human being.
Saturday, February 10
Ten Years On
This month marks a decade of photography in my life. My father bought me my first SLR (I still use it) ten years ago when I first entered secondary school and signed up for the photography club. Somehow, an innate yearning drew me towards it, almost unbelievable thinking about it now.
The first few years were foundation years, learning all about shutter speed and aperture. Before the advent of Photoshop and digital photography, I spent hours in the darkroom developing my own black-and-white film. Alas, none have survived. (Was intending to bore anyone interested in my "history" but decided to remove the long banter).
Through the years I have grown tremendously in this field, especially in the past year. No longer a part-time hobby, it has become a mainstay in my life, everything that I am revolves around it now. Books, thoughts, websites, friends, free time, nothing is spared.
Funny how things just happen in life...last year this time, I was unsure of my photography, having just bought a new digital SLR with my army pay (still broke...) and shooting random stuff. Then I got into Shooting Home, got myself exposed to radiation and started knowing many people in the field.
One year later, I have exhibited in a group show, won a merit prize in a local competition, organized a talk for young photographers, curated 2 shows in school, ran my school's club, shot several weddings, did work for clients and made many many friends, acquaintances and mentors.
This year promises to be bigger, with the Month of Photography in July, another group show in July and more traveling before that (after the stupid call-up). I hope to launch a site this year, hopefully with new work to show, marking 10 years of photography. Hopefully, I can overcome procrasination and get things rolling.
For now, I am starting work on a new series, which will probably last till May/June, while trying to gather more works for the older series (pl.). Maybe I will get some time to tie everything up in June before I go for ICT and flying off to Eastern Europe. With all these excitment in my life, no wonder school seems so passe and boring!
The first few years were foundation years, learning all about shutter speed and aperture. Before the advent of Photoshop and digital photography, I spent hours in the darkroom developing my own black-and-white film. Alas, none have survived. (Was intending to bore anyone interested in my "history" but decided to remove the long banter).
Through the years I have grown tremendously in this field, especially in the past year. No longer a part-time hobby, it has become a mainstay in my life, everything that I am revolves around it now. Books, thoughts, websites, friends, free time, nothing is spared.
Funny how things just happen in life...last year this time, I was unsure of my photography, having just bought a new digital SLR with my army pay (still broke...) and shooting random stuff. Then I got into Shooting Home, got myself exposed to radiation and started knowing many people in the field.
One year later, I have exhibited in a group show, won a merit prize in a local competition, organized a talk for young photographers, curated 2 shows in school, ran my school's club, shot several weddings, did work for clients and made many many friends, acquaintances and mentors.
This year promises to be bigger, with the Month of Photography in July, another group show in July and more traveling before that (after the stupid call-up). I hope to launch a site this year, hopefully with new work to show, marking 10 years of photography. Hopefully, I can overcome procrasination and get things rolling.
For now, I am starting work on a new series, which will probably last till May/June, while trying to gather more works for the older series (pl.). Maybe I will get some time to tie everything up in June before I go for ICT and flying off to Eastern Europe. With all these excitment in my life, no wonder school seems so passe and boring!
Damnit!
I have a test tomorrow in school, on a Sunday no less. Wtf.
Received an sms and an email to inform me of a call up in June. Wtf. Right smack in the middle of my intended trip to Eastern Europe. Wtf. Lucky thing is that I have yet to book my tickets. Argh.
Have a few deadlines in the coming week and I've been procrasinating (or rather trying to study for my test and the previous one on Thursday).
Being a student sucks. Being a soldier sucks. Damnit.
Received an sms and an email to inform me of a call up in June. Wtf. Right smack in the middle of my intended trip to Eastern Europe. Wtf. Lucky thing is that I have yet to book my tickets. Argh.
Have a few deadlines in the coming week and I've been procrasinating (or rather trying to study for my test and the previous one on Thursday).
Being a student sucks. Being a soldier sucks. Damnit.
Sunday, February 4
The World Moves On
Today the Lions won the Asean football championship. Yesterday, one of my men from army passed away. It's the third one since we left.
And the world moves on. The fragility of life.
Tears and smiles, sweat and blood.
I wonder, what's the purpose of life if we just end up sitting at a desk trading bonds, buying securities or marketing somebody else's products (or worse, staring down a microscope).
The experience of life is exhilarating. Death, an inescapable void.
Do you want to end up growing fat and stuck in a HDB flat? A simple life, all basic needs met - shelter (HDB), food (weekend seafood), sex (boring but safe) and continuance (kids). Or rich beyond your wildest dreams, all needs met - shelter (houses, apartments, uncountable), food (5-star quality only, no coffeeshop), sex (sans wife, probably mistresses (who do it for the $)), and continuance (kids who hate you).
Maybe I left out religion but I guess it's always there when you need it.
Somehow, I think life should be more than just these aspects. But how many of us can say, "Fuck it. I'm going the other direction. I'm living life."?
And the world moves on. The fragility of life.
Tears and smiles, sweat and blood.
I wonder, what's the purpose of life if we just end up sitting at a desk trading bonds, buying securities or marketing somebody else's products (or worse, staring down a microscope).
The experience of life is exhilarating. Death, an inescapable void.
Do you want to end up growing fat and stuck in a HDB flat? A simple life, all basic needs met - shelter (HDB), food (weekend seafood), sex (boring but safe) and continuance (kids). Or rich beyond your wildest dreams, all needs met - shelter (houses, apartments, uncountable), food (5-star quality only, no coffeeshop), sex (sans wife, probably mistresses (who do it for the $)), and continuance (kids who hate you).
Maybe I left out religion but I guess it's always there when you need it.
Somehow, I think life should be more than just these aspects. But how many of us can say, "Fuck it. I'm going the other direction. I'm living life."?
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