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Apologies for going M.I.A. for almost two weeks. Have been living out of a suitcase in NYC / Connecticut, where I went to an interview and visited my bro respectively. Many thanks to Ssshuang who hosted me inspite of her crazy 24-7 work schedule as a $$$-making i banker. Due to the inclement snow / sleet / winter drear induced non-stop eating, I only managed to squeeze in two cultural outtings.

1a. The Gates at Central Park

Managed to catch them before they got dismantled. Seeing them in person was a pilgrimage experience for me, who before this only got to see Christo's work on slides for art classes. It so happened that a snowstorm happened the night before, so I was lucky to see them in their full glory - I'd like to call it that, 'cos the installation had the perfect backdrop of a crystal blue sky and sparkly white snow to contrast the neon orange: perfectly complementary colours. Best of all, Ssshuang gave me a piece of cloth used in the work; she got it from a guided tour, and the said piece of neon orange rip-stop now makes my wallet its home.

[sorry no pics of my own here, I snapped away with my old skool film camera.]

1b. Ashes and Snow at the Nomadic Museum, Pier 54, Chelsea



This is a show that will forever be stamped on my brain with a red-hot burning iron. It helps that Gregory Colbert's large scale sepia tone photos were jaw-droppingly beautiful, but the truth was the venue (and the long walk there) was biting cold. A -15'C windchill does not prepare you for quiet art appreciation. Shigeru Ban's mobile structure, the Nomadic Museum, built out of shipping containers, large cardboard tubes and stretched fabric, would have been a fantastic idea had it not been sitting on the windy East River in mid-winter, with only three tiny lamp heaters to warm up the vast interior . There was a stunning film at the end of the spirit-moving photo exhibit, but if I had stayed to watch it all, my companion and I would have gotten frost bites and / or hypothermia.


Now, I digress from the fantastic must-see photos. The whole show I learned, took Colbert 13 years to put together, and his special-super-secret technique, where he uses a galactic number of teabags and the image is developed on handmade paper, took seven years to perfect. The result was absolute perfection. His pictures, where individuals are juxtaposed with elephants, leopards, whales, eagles and so forth, reminded me of endless legends, folklores, stories going back to the infinite past, the origin of man. They have a powerful timelessness about them that move people to their cores. The show left me in sheer awe, and I thought it complemented nicely with my current reading, The Life of Pi, where an Indian boy who is Hindu, Christian AND Muslim survives a shipwreck with a tiger, a zebra and a hyena on a lifeboat.

2. African Voices at the Wadsworth Atheneum


I've decided when I die, I'd like to be buried in a Ghanian Super Coffin. Ghanians like their coffins Claes Oldenburg-like; they blow up or shrink an everyday object related to the dead person's trade or life to a casket. How nice would it be to have a colourful sculpture that doubles as a visual epitaph; call it my last laugh if you will.

Last Life in the Universe:

This has got to be my first superb non-mainstream film of 2005 [to be fair, I haven't seen many so far, as the selection in Hong Kong, where I spent Jan. and Feb, is rather limited.] Pen-ek Ratanaruang, the director and the co-screenwriter, is genius. Everything in the film came together nicely: the eccentric OCD-clean-freak-suicidal male character; a plot that drifts between realistic fantacies and absurd reality; the comical yazuka cameos; the awkward tension in the long silences between the minimal, but skillfully crafted dialogue; the slow pacing and the washed out palette; the setting in a Japanese expat's Bangkok, (How is it possible to make Bangkok look so non-descript???) and a rural Thailand that seems to be stuck in a 70's time capsule. Only at the end of the film did I realise Chris Doyle was responsible for the cinematography, which might explain how the images manage to feel rich in texture, even when the colours look grey and washed out. And it's quite a mystery how Tadanobu Asano manages to look so introvert, so nerdy and so hot at the same time.


Watch trailer here

In anticipation of the brutal Bostonian cold:

Am wearing my 16-yr-old white fur hat in lukewarmish HK at 16'C. Call me a freak ( and a fur-wearer! *o the horror*) but I NEED to make that kid-sized hat fit my giant head, so I won't die of cerebral hypothermia when I land in Beantown.

Catching up on culture

The HK International Poster Triannual at the HK Heritage Museum - Only caught a glimpse of the show, but I liked what I saw:



witty collage posters by Alain LeQuernec.


Christo's The Gates at Central Park - I'm sure on the other side of planet, every self-proclaiming artist and their mothers must have seen the installation by now, and I'm likely to miss it all by the time I get back to the States. Darn.

To compensate, I am viewing the miniature Somerville, MA version online. (lovely gates, cat, and apartment I must say) [via Unbeige]
Cars from the Ralph Lauren Collection at the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston - something to look forward to for my return, amidst the dreadful cold and snow. I love curvy vintage motors... sheer Olde Worlde elegance, daaahling.

The Wishing Tree seems to be doing wonders

...to my career prospects. One week after the New Year holidays, and I am finally receiving calls for interviews: one for an Asst. Buyer position with hip local chain I.T; (Martin Margiela! Ann Demeulemeester! Commes des Garcons!!! It really is every anti-fashion fashionista's heaven) another is with the prestigious Art + Auction mag in New York. Life is once again, looking up.

A Belated Happy Chinese New Year

Gung Hei Fat Choi!

This is, uhm, two weeks late. But squeezing in time for pain-in-the-ass picture-loading with Blogger's Picasa, away from my freelancing project [currently re-engineering some marketing brochures for an engineering firm] proved to be difficult between all the festivities and eating.

It's been a looong dozen years since I last spent New Year's at home, in Hong Kong. Needless to say, I had lots of fun reliving childhood memories, and exploring new "traditions". (Plus I got to wear my Shanghai Tang, which was only worn once on the eve of the '97 Handover.)

Some favorite things I loved as a kid, and still do wholeheartedly, as an oversized kidult:

- the flowers!
The peach blossom tree at home are as big as I remember it to be, unlike all the other things which seem to shrink as you grow bigger and taller. And the white and yellow Sui Sin narcissus!! I love breathing in big wafts of its intoxicating perfume. The floors of the New Year Flower Market in Victoria Park were covered with pots of them Sui Sin [meaning "water fairy"] bulbs, and the place smelled like a perfumerie. *warm & fuzzy feelings of blessedness*

the peach blossum tree at home...


and new year flowers at my doorstep
- red pockets
Money - always handy, always good. and I got a quarter of my meagre previous monthly wage in just 1 day, doing absolutely NOTHING. How can you not love red pockets? It's probably the only incentive to stay single forever and ever. =)

- grandma's turnip rice pudding
Of all New Year eats, this is my favourite. Savory with chewy bits of cha siu [roasted pork], dried shrimp, peanuts, spring onions, mushrooms and all, my gran makes the best (ie. most loaded with chewy bits) "lor bak go". I can't say the same about her other cooking, but this stuff if total comfort food.

- the New Year's fireworks
Sure, HK now do firework displays just about every Friday during the tourist high seasons. But none can beat the New Year's version. The biggest and the best, and I can see it clearly in the comfort of my home.




New discoveries as an ABC (American Born Chinese) tourist:

Since my grandparents were devoted Christians, we never did anything wacky like going to all the different Buddhist and Taoist temples for New Year's wishes. So 12 years later, my parents and I were gawking and picture taking, (as tourists do) at all the local traditions other normal HKers do.

- the Wishing Tree
My first time in 24 years of HK residency. I figured I have to try it once, after watching an infinite number of saccharine-overdosed, TV-hunk-and-belle couples throwing bundles of orange + paper onto the ill-fated tree. [My mother: That tree must be thinking, "Why throw stuff at me out of all the trees in HK?"] Local folk wisdom has it that your wishes would come true if your orange-attached bundles hangs onto its branches; the higher the branch, the more likely your wishes would exceed your expectations (or something like that.)


No mid-air orange projectiles caught on film, unfortunately. I'm lucky to be still alive after the visit. Every now and then, some poor soul would get hit with an orange that either wildly missed the tree, or was thrown by some malcoordinated person who has no idea how to aim.


Gazillions of people paying their annual pilgrimage; my first sighting of good-luck windmills
Luckily for me, I managed to throw my orange attached wishes on to its branch, a few days before the government "shut down" the tree after a branch broke from excessive orange-loading...


so many wishes, so little space.... "'K, I'll only wish for a real job."


mission accomplished; hence my "cooked dog head" [sap sok gou tou = grinning like a maniac] face.

-Che Kung Temple
Another one of those things I only read or heard about, but never witnessed for myself. Like all Chinese temples on holidays, it was packed, roudy and filled with near-hysterical worshippers.



incense trafficking


smoke gets into your eyes
Feelin' unlucky? Give the fan three spins, and apparently, your luck will be turned too.
the entrance to the lucky windmill fair


Windmills... all colours,

shapes and sizes,

everywhere and anywhere.

A little lovin' from my bathtub....

If no one else will, at least my bathtub will tell me "I love you" with a heart-shaped blob of bubbles.

(Sssshush you, don't ruin my wishful thinking!)

Goodbye Mr. Architect-with-Ubercool-Specs:

Philip Johnson, 98, passed away last Wednesday. [nytimes obituary - registration req'd, but it's free] {Via UnBeige - reading design news via the flaky broadband at home means I'm half a week behind everyone else on the planet.}

Philip Johnson is the only textbook Architect-God I have ever met*, and even though we only spoke for 10 seconds, I could never forget his cheek, and those eyes of his, shining with child-like mischief. [see 12/09/2002] From him, I also "discovered" a pattern with Architect-Gods: to be one, you MUST wear wacky glasses - ones that you designed yourself, preferrably.

* Richard Meier is still only on the mortal "rockstar" caste in my scale of architectural godliness.

Born into Brothels:

Have been meaning to blog about this ever since I saw the documentary on my last day at Christie's. The movie felt like a calling, and I knew I had to tell people about this.

Back in 2000, Briski, upon witnessing the daily horrors experienced by children living in Calcutta's red light district, founded Kids with Cameras: -

Fascinated by her camera, Zana thought it would be great to see the world through their eyes. It was at that moment that she had the idea of teaching photography to the children of prostitutes.

To do so would involve overcoming nearly insurmountable obstacles � brothel owners, pimps, police, local politicians, and organized crime syndicate.

Zana held weekly photography workshops between 2000 and 2003. There the children learned camera basics, lighting, composition, the development of point-of-view, editing, and sequencing for narrative. To Zana's delight, equipped with inexpensive point-and-shoot 35mm cameras, the children produced incredible work. Their images are explosions of color: self-portraits, family pictures, street scenes, stunning tableaus of Bengali life.

Through teaching photography to children of prostitutes and social outcasts, Briski offered a 'way out' to these kids who otherwise have no chance of receiving education after primary school.

"The photographs taken by the children are not merely examples of remarkable observation and talent; they reflect something much larger, morally encouraging, and even politically volatile: art as an immensely liberating and empowering force."

Do go and catch the film if you can. Bring some friends, bring some Kleenex; (it does get emotional) it'll be worthwhile, 'cos the proceeds do go to support the children's education. The film's won an Audience Award in Sundance 2004, and it's the sort of film that keeps my faith in humanity.

My bookcase is raining....

Dead termites. GROSS. *shivers*

The exterminators came round, sprayed the study with insecticide, and now them maggot-like creepy crawlies are falling out of the half-eaten wooden bookcase in the study, like rice grains. Right next to the computer, where I HAVE TO DO MY BLOODY JOB APPS.

*sigh* the inconveniences of unemployment.

14 Alleged Chinese "terrorists" roaming free in Boston

With news like this, there's no hope for a yellow-faced girl like me to ever get hired as:
Puma Assistant Footwear Designer /
Elle Decor Editorial Assistant /
Gagosian Gallery Archivist /
Intern at the Met or the Dia Art Foundation /
Matthew Marks Gallery Asst. /
Yoshi Gallery Asst./
McKee Gallery Asst./
WGBH Asst. Producer for Curious George

Hell, I don't know if customs would even let me in to get my stuff back from the suburbs of Boston. Bugger bugger bugger.

UPDATE: [1/23]
The 14 dudes are of course, not terrorists, but I.I.'s who didn't pay up their smugglers. What is it with the FBI? Non-Caucasian does NOT = bomb-carrying suspect.

So you wanna work for Jeff Koons?

A crazy lil' gem I came across on NY Foundation for the Arts while browsing for jobs. Actually, it's more like a 10 carat D-grade diamond.
Too bad I can't paint to save my life.

RIP cyw555@mit.edu 1999-2004

*waves a teary goodbye to my school e-mail and my free Athena webspace*

That's it. MIT's spitting me out.
For anyone who still cares about my existence, they are very welcome to show their sympathies and compassion by writing to: seewhy at gmail dot com.

Kafka on the Shore

Spotted in the bookshop next to my neighbourhood post office.
Mental note: add to my things-to-read list, after Colour: A Natural History of the Palette (which is taking me forever to finish) and Life of Pi.

Death by Chocolate

Simply couldn't put this record down when I spotted it in the Clearance section of the store. How can any self-respecting chocoholic not fall instantly in love with the band name? AND they do that 60's psychedelic go-go thing, which is totally up my vintage alley. Pitchfork might hate them for their monotone singing and crappy lyrics, but there's nothing better than "together we can zap - the - world!" when you're feeling down and out.

Check these tracks out - While I'm still young, Ice Cold Lemonade [both mp3's on Quicktime]

When mixed blessings turn into absolute curses

You know things can't be right when you find yourself sobbing in the office in front of just about everybody (including the cute boy sitting right next to you.) EVERYDAY. Like you were born with hyperactive tear ducts that can't afford to rest.

I've never thought work can fill me with so much dread and despair: it ate away my social life, my family time, even time to see my dog. It sucked away everything that meant being alive to me. The mere thought of my now-ex-boss churned up one big blackhole, swallowing up my existence as a sane individual, the way Dementors in Harry Potter feed on other people's pain, fear and misery.

So when she pronounced that she was letting me go today, (because of my "intolerable attitude problem" - ahem... this coming from the Queen of Verbal Abuse, Ripped Paper Trajectories and Office Stationery Dodgeball) I wasn't exactly sad. The shock of being fired for the first time still hasn't passed, but I am 100% certain I won't miss living in such terror and hypocrisy. Stuff this US$1000 a month job, a big "up-yours" to that silly woman, that extra hour I spent in Taipei with my family, eating xiao-lung-bao's at Din Tai Fung or bathing in hot springs was definitely worth more than this crappy job. So I won't be going to Morocco / the Sahara Desert next April, but that doesn't mean I'm never gonna make it there in this lifetime.

Thanks to this stint, I've had the pleasure of working with a larger-than-life bloke who's got a bigger heart than Biggie Smalls + the genie from Aladdin put together, and a fabber-than-fabulous drag-queen-by-night. My squeaky voice has been heard by tens of thousands HKers over the radio, and I'm happy with that 15 seconds of mass appeal fame. Now, it's time to move onto a smaller, but more appreciative audience.

Checkpoint

Just looked back at the entry on my 23rd b'day -

older.... and not a bit wiser (not even a leetle beet):

arg. 23. aaaaarrrrrgh. *in denial*

Judging by conventional measures of success for a person in their early 20's, here's a brief summary of how I measure up:

Degrees earned: none
Long-term Jobs held: nil
Significant other: nope
Driving License: nope
Automobiles owned: nil
Properties: nil
Offsprings: none - my mum HAD me when she was 23. *shivers*

Hmm... falling into the faux-pas category of - Underachiever.

Things to change / add to the I've-grown-older-but-not-wiser list:

Degrees earned: 1
Number of times fired: 1