I'm waiting for lightning to strike my pea-sized brain:

arg. the dreaded block. I've been trying to look at all sources of inspiration for my sculpture project. It's not working very well. Perhaps I'll just mold lots and lots of my less-than-sexy derriere as my mum suggested out of a whim :p
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Floor installation, Korean Pavilion in the 2001 Venice Biennale
I came across works by Korean artist Do-Ho Suh. His works deals with issues of transcultural dislocation, and the individual vs. an annoymous collective. I found the intricately detailed replicas of his dwellings made out of nylon eery and hauntingly beautiful. Supposedly one can pack a whole fabric house in a suitcase. Something about this touched my nomadic core, even if it's encumbered by earthly possesions.


life-sized nylon model of Do-Ho Suh's apartment in Chelsea, NYC
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Why did I dream of you last night?

Why did I dream of you last night?
Now morning is pushing back hair with grey light
Memories strike home, like slaps in the face;
Raised on elbow, I stare at the pale fog
beyond the window.

So many things I had thought forgotten
Return to my mind with stranger pain:
--Like letters that arrive addressed to someone
Who left the house so many years ago.

~Philip Larkin

stubbled upon this... It's so fitting since several friends and myself seem to be having similar oneiric troubles.