all animals are created equal.
direct comment here
out of boredom and a mix of horror and humour upon looking at my childhood pictures, i made this: the book of youth.
my awesomeness is a birthright.
the first thing i feel is a reverse drip of chills up my arms. then, a rupture from my stomach, a sensation bursting from just above my navel through my diaphragm, filling my lungs with a cool warmth. i would then usually take a deep breath and the intensified pressure on my chest would press even harder, but in a calming way. deep surge of a smile-inducing giddyness would then follow as i exhale.
that is how i feel looking at a photograph of john pawson’s work.
i don’t think i’m too happy with the scanned result. no? what do you think?
a badly broken ceiling turned into a full-on renovation at my aunts’ store, Akrea of Sanur. somehow got myself doing a pro-bono construction job.
do visit our other store at Monkey Forest Road, Ubud (about two-minute walk or ten-second drive after Alpha Mart on your right) (if you decide to drive according to the lane direction).
last weekend i briefly visited home to do many unimportant things including documenting my old sketchbooks. it was quite an experience, the same way mothers would probably feel when they revisited their old disco days from yellowing photos. blood was an underlying theme in many of my sketches, apparently, as was being child-like and nearly innocent (i’m uncomfortable using this word, actually. it just sounds… iffy.) anyway these were from my i-want-to-move-to-bandung-and-be-a-starving-artist phase, before i completely thought through what being starving meant, which is pretty useless now because i’m still starving anyway.
a brief, thoughtless selection of my old work (2001 - 2005):
“i want to kiss you lightly on the cunt so i can speak in the language of your orgasm and think with the wisdom of your heat.”
i will be perpetually tracing your imprint on my pillow, the sunken valley of my pulsating heart, through the women who had failed you and the men whose hearts i had wasted, through my struggle to mention your name, to the sleepless nights we slept through apart, until the hour i close my eyes and, under my lids, find the golden ray that is you.
for mine is the heart that stays alive.
(a letter to joshua)
i had a picture with him when he was little (and i was, too, younger). i was wearing a yellow top. i’ve been trying to locate where i put that file as i loved how we look in it, but haven’t been successful. i think it’s in my old friendster account but, really, who still logs in to their friendster account these days?
