The Mental Picture

The fact that I entered a photo today for a little online contest set me thinking about where I am on the Good Exposure Scale.

I realise too that I've been shooting alot lately. Maybe because I've never been good at Art or painting. So besides writing, which incidentally I also enjoy, photography gives me just that little outlet for creative expression. Something I believe is important because we are constantly absorbing so much bad karma around us, sublimally or otherwise. And its a little cathartic to express one's thoughts, perceptions and appreciation for the less obvious, in pictures. Mental snapshots if you like.



I've never been one for stunning vistas. Or characterful Portraits. Eschewing these for a more different take on the mundane. Because, perhaps, I like finding gorgeousity in the grotesque. There is Inner Beauty, but there is also beauty in the way things are perceived. And when a photograph fleshes out the hidden potential of an object or activity, as a representation of what the photographer sees, the image records this unique perception for eternity. An archive of thoughts as it were.

I want to be technically more proficient yes. And I am certainly not adverse to shooting landscapes or people in the standard kind of way. But more than having pictures be a mere collection of pixels for the record, I think I want photographs to represent what I am thinking of.

At that particular fleeting moment in time and space.

Unkster Uncovered 15 - Kusu and St John's Islands

Two Islands.

Such feelings of contrast.



One, a place of hope, where people flock for fortune and fertility. At its famous Temple and Kramat on the hill. The other, a picture of despair, a former Penal Colony. Cold, fenced, mysterious, like an old woman with a past.

Hope and Despair, barely 10 minutes apart by ferry.

Isn't Life like that sometimes?

I Try To Say I Love You

We talk alot more these days.
Doing the things we never got down to doing back then.
But even after all the pain I have given.
You still stand there.
Wondering why I forgot that Goodnight Kiss.
And I oblige.

I try to say I Love You.
But the words get in the way.

Of Greeks and Geeks

As a child, I remember tagging along whenever Mummy brought her students to the National Museum on a History excursion.

And I used to listen in rapt attention as she explained the dioramas and exhibits to her class of about 60, handed out her worksheets, and generally played Historian for the day. Happy and contented that I was the only kid not to be in a grubby school uniform.



I recall her telling a boy much older than me, that we cannot move into the future without first knowing about our past and doing something useful in the present. So although I have been to the The Met, plus a host of other famous places of restored antiquity, I feel abit guilty that through the years, I have neglected our very own Le Grande Dame in exchange for her more exotic international sisters.

But all that was put to rest on Sunday when we realised just how at home we were to step into the airconditioned passages of the Museum's recent reinvention.

It didn't matter that it took a travelling Hellenistic exhibition from the Louvre to bring us here.



The irony was lost on us.

Unkster Uncovered 14 - The Ubin Urbanites

When I stepped off the Bumboat, walked the jetty and arrived on Ubin proper, I was greeted by an Auntie in a sun-hat whom I found largely familiar.

Only after exchanging smiley hellos did I remember she ran a bicycle rental shop down the road. And I thought to myself, wow this really feels like coming home. A villager from this tiny island-community recognises me. Delusions of turning Ubinite from Urbanite I reckon.



We pedalled the length and breadth of the island today. All 4 hours of dusty asphault, Level 2 slopes, photo-stops and lots of coconuts in between. And my favorite Thai temple in the middle of nowhere, Wat Siam, is no more. Its been flattened to make way for the new Ketam mountain-biking trail. I haven't found out where they moved the deities to though. I'm sure the new place is still somewhere on the island.

Well this gives me reason to find it on my next trip. Soon.

Boo! Its Valentine's

Happy V-Day!!!

And for a change, since I have been streaming Ewan McGregor and Nicole Kidman's oh-so-soppy Come What May for the past 2 Valentines, thought some Chris Brown should get the Love Quotient up and groovin' for you guys.

So for all you Lovebirds, whether your Boo is here or faraway, still loving you or want to murder you, is already someone else's Boo or simply a big Boo Boo...

Enjoy!

I need you Boo
I gotta see you Boo
And there's hearts all over the world tonight
Said there's hearts all over the world tonight
I need you Boo
I gotta see you Boo

The 48-Hour Sawadee

Alex, Cheryl, Chris and me will be spending the Good Friday Holidays next month in Chiang Mai.



Its a little ironic that we will be in such a Buddhist place on a holy Christian Weekend. Well I suppose its just like us being the odd ones out in Society then. The marital outkasts that we are. Hur hur.

We'll be arriving in Chiang Mai at 0830hrs on that pious Friday. And leaving at 0900hrs on Easter Morning. That'll give us approximately 48hrs to take in everything this cool, former Lanna Kingdom's capital has to offer. Well at least I will be on a photo-spree. The rest, I suspect, will be having Singhas and Changs at some Thai coffee-shop.

Its nice sometimes to be able to take off somewhere on short notice and without a care in the world. Even though this 48-hour sojourn will probably cost us a princely 600 bucks each.

But you can't put a price on good fellowship, can you?

When

When you remarked how poised but stupid Tang Wei was in Lust, Caution and said, yet you would do exactly the same thing for Love.

When I learnt that you were as silly as me, listening to Jay's 安靜 over and over again just for those last lines 我會學著放棄你, 是因為我太愛你.

When the pain in your eyes at being lied to looked so real and palpable.

I felt we were Soulmates.

On The Temasek Trail - Kampong Glam and Its Environs

The irony about Singapore's conservation efforts is this.

Don't do anything about it and the quaint little pre-war shophouses, dirty characterful alleys and any collection of bricks with some historical significance will be bulldozed to make way for a spanking new shopping complex or office block. Do something about it and often, retaining the fine balance of genuine flavors of years gone by with a touch of practical modernism is rarely achieved with the inevitable arrival of cheesy commercialism, riding on the haunches of heritage renewal.

Its abit like that with old Kampong Glam. At once the epicentre of the Malay Community in Singapore, and a district worth its weight in the Temenggong's gold. But also touted as the next place to see and be seen, a sort of nouveau Mohamad Sultan Road, with swish Shisha bars and Mint Tea Kebabs straight from Marrakesh.



I had the opportunity to walk about the area before dinner yesterday evening. A quick look around to see if the spirit of those bygone kampung days still pervaded the air. Not that I have experienced this first-hand myself. And I suppose, there is abit of it still lingering. In the songkok-ed Muslim men performing their abulutions before prayer at Sultan's Mosque, at the old-fashioned Apocatharies where bespoked perfumes can be mixed and put in pretty bottles straight out of a Genie movie and with the smells of Middle-Eastern tobacco above the smoky notes of Satay that assail your nostrils.







And if you take leisure with an iced Turkish Coffee at one of the many alfresco cafes, its not hard to make-believe that time passes a little slower here, to the hypnotic ponderous rhythm of the Gemilang playing in the distance.

Unkers@TheTheatre - Shanghai Blues

We thought that the pomp and pageantry of post-war Shanghai would do our usually boring CNY a little good.

Considering that it was also an excellent excuse to absent ourselves from any more family dinners and mahjongs and what nots. And this being a Cheena musical would, I suppose, be a little fitting for the festivities. Incidentally, this year's River HongBao Extravaganza (read gaudy funfair) was just across the road from where the Esplanade was, at the Memorial Park.



Shanghai, circa 1940s. Wen Cong (William So) is a young man who joins the Chinese Army in its war with Japan and returns to his home city as a musician seeking his fortune eight years after he saved the life of a stranger, Tu Yun (Mindee Ong). Amidst the conflict, Dan Lei (Emma Yong) comes to Shanghai to earn a living but ends up bunking in with Tu Yun. Like a chinois Menage a Trois, both women subsequently fall for him, plunging all three of them into a complicated relationship.



I have but one word for Shanghai Blues, Emma Yong. Ok that's technically 2 words. The lass can really sing, and in Mandarin to boot. This same girl who does Shakespeare, the Dim Sum Dollies, Mainstream as well as Experimental Theatre, with equal aplomp. Is there any stage role she cannot do? My impression of this very talented lady has just gone up a notch. And to think that William So (he of the slicked-back hair and glasses fame) is no shabby singer himself. But the man is a professional Warbler lah. Although his debut transition from Concerts/MTVs to the theatre stage was pretty slick if you ask me. Like his hair.

Mindee Ong (oh my Mindee, my waifish, elfin-like little Mindee) was a dissappointment though, on 2 counts. Firstly, try as she might, there was simply no stage gravitas. No presence. She's fine as an Ah Lian in 881 but as a Cabaret Songbird in sequinned cheongsams, sorry, no-go. Secondly, and perhaps more tragically, she sang off-key on several occasions. Poor girl. You could hear the earnestness in her voice but sadly, it was just no match for some of the beautifully soaring vocals needed for many of the melodies.

Written by acclaimed Hong Kong playwright Raymond To and directed by Toy Factory's Chief Artistic Director Goh Boon Teck, Shanghai Blues was still, overall, immensely watchable.

Although sometimes I think the romantism of the Shanghai genre has been milked for all its worth.

Unkers@TheMovies - The Kite-Runner, 27 Dresses, KungFu Dunk, Sweeney Todd

A week at the movies for me. I don't think I've ever done 4 shows in 6 days before. Like some film critic like that.

Anyway I shan't give a lengthy discourse on the merits and demerits of each film. Just a few words to justify my own rating.


The first, was also the best of the lot for me. Although I didn't finish the book, I think the Big-Screen version managed to pull off the magic and emotion Khaled Hosseini intended for his audience. Afghans should be proud. 8.5/10.


Katherine Hiegl has a double chin but she oozes poise and class in some of the Little Black Dresses she parades in this movie, ironically, about Bridesmaid dresses and finding your own happiness. Entertaining, but largely cliched and forgettable. 7/10.


I am a Jay Chou fan and so it pains me to say that this show sucked. Even stepping in before with full expectations that it was going to be a CGI-ed flick of slapstick proportions. But you have to hand it to Prince Mumbly, at least he acts with sincerity and an unaffected coolness a few can replicate. And oh yes, veteran Eric Tsang sort of saves the show with his impeccable comic timing and high-pitched Eunuch voice. 6/10.


The Demon Barber of Fleet Street put me to sleep halfway through the movie with his incessant singing. Yes so Johnny Depp can warble, surprise surprise, but not at every turn and at every opportunity to emote, surely! The dark and macabre of Depp-Burton collaborations take on very bloody proportions this time but even then, the slitting of throats and gushing of haemoglobin got a little tired after awhile. Think Edward Scissorhands with sharp, jugular-slicing, razors. 7/10.

So there! Later today, it will be off to the Esplanade for a change. Shanghai Blues, a musical put up as part of the Huayi Chinese Festival of Arts here in Singapore.

A nice way to end my week at the Performing Arts.

Tank You Mum

When Mum said she found something personal that belonged to me whilst spring-cleaning my old room for the CNY yesterday during Reunion Dinner, I was so afraid it would be a long forgotten packet of ciggarettes I had stashed in my cupboard or an old edition of PlayBoy I had forgotten to return to a friend.

So I muttered a little thank-you prayer when it turned out to be an old Primary School jotter book of mine which I had used to sketch what used to be my military obsessions.



I doodled these when I was in Primary One, 28 years ago, and at the height of the Cold War between the USA and USSR.

Mum asked me, Did you steal my red pen for the wheels? Retired teachers are such a pain I tell you! =))

Unkster Uncovered 13 - Sri Lankaramaya

We spent a quiet Chinese New Year Eve evening at Sri Lankaramaya, the oldest Sri Lankan Theravada Buddhist Temple in Singapore.



Instead of jostling with the crowds at Chinatown, this little enlightening excursion brought peace and reflection to an otherwise noisy night of fireworks and cheesy merriment.



Built in 1952, the sprawling temple grounds are spread right smack in the middle of the many condominiums at St Michael's. And with a Stupa, a Bodhi Tree, beautiful Buddha images and a Sima Hall, Sri Lankaramaya is considered a complete monastary under the Theravada tradition. Not unlike its Big Cousin, the famous Wat Phra Keow in Bangkok. Sri Lankaramaya also has its own Reclining Buddha, a 45ft behemoth that I suppose gives it a Wat Pho feel as well.



And as I stood there, gazing at the relaxing giant figurine, in the warm incandescent glow of the chandeliers and under the beautiful patchwork of ceiling motifs, I realized that perhaps a little Dharma for myself is in order so that the photos become meaningful.



Amitabha

Unkster Uncovered 12 : Kent Ridge Park

Triapsed Kent Ridge Park today.

Part of the Southern Ridges that includes Mount Faber and Telok Blangah Park. And also 1-stop on the WWII trail in the Western portion of our island that the Tourist Board is trying to make Singaporeans more aware of. Very tranquil and undisturbed. A little surreal really when you consider a whole regiment died here trying in vain to stop the juggernaut that was the Imperial Japanese Army.



I've set my mind on doing one of these lesser-visited places in Singapore every alternate weekend when I am not off biking somewhere.

We need to appreciate what little nature and history that exists on our Little Red Dot.

Right?

Kopi-o

You appreciate sometimes, the spontaneity and simplicity of it all.



Last minute plans. That hot cup of kopi-o. The idle chatter of buddies.

That's what life should be like.

Kundun

What was supposed to be a quiet evening, after dinner, relaxing with Martin Scorsese's 1997 epic, triggered a 3 hour Internet research exercise on the history of Tibet and the man they call Kundun in the Lhasa Dialect, His Holiness, the Dalai Lama.



Invaded and occupied by Motherland China who claimed Tibet as her own in 1951, Kundun fled to Dharamsala, India in 1959, where he heads the Tibetan Government In Exile and the thousands that make up the Tibetan Diaspora, till today.

The film is beautifully shot, with scenery and colors so breathtaking you forget that most of the stuff was done in the mountains of Morocco. China would never have allowed Scorsese do shoot something like this in Tibet and I think the auteur is still banned from the Motherland for daring to glorify the Dalai Lama on the big screen. Kundun never made it big at the box-office. But most critics agree it is one of Scorsese's greatest works. Visually stunning, emotionally moving.

Watching it made me feel alittle ashamed about being Chinese though. And I can only imagine how the Dalai Lama must be feeling, seeing his country's rich Buddhist traditions and culture, diluted with each passing day by atheist Communist ideology and indoctrination. Watching his very magnificent Potala Palace turned into a Tourist Museum. And his people displaced by the ever increasing Han Chinese who have all but taken up Permanent Residency in the capital Lhasa.

The 14th Reincarnation of the Compassionate Buddha and Nobel Peace Prize-winning Laureate is facing a mighty juggernaut unprecedented in the whole of Tibetan history. And the juggernaut is here to stay. Sometimes I feel that the world has forgotten its roof. The impending US recession, the Middle-East conflict, natural disasters, and the fact that we are in the process of selecting a new Global Big Brother (Obama being my choice but who cares?), means that the call for the return of full Tibetan independence has been placed on the back-burner again. And with China flexing its economic and military muscles on the world stage, I'm not even sure Kundun will see true freedom in his lifetime.

But I don't think His Holiness is particularly bothered by it. Because according to the concept of Re-birth, the 15th Reincarnation would simply carry on his good work. There is a peace and genteel humility about the man. As epitomised by the final lines in the film when Kundun is asked by an Indian Border Guard, May I ask, are you the Lord Buddha?

To which he replies, I think that I am a reflection, like the moon on water. When you see me, and I try to be a good man, you see yourself .

Lovely.