.the devil is in the details.

1. today.

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2. last year dec, tiong bahru plaza.

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.hope and sunscreen.

The first, of Joven, taken outside my uncle's flat. The second, at my ah ma's place.

I love the study room at my uncle's. Light, big sofa, purple walls and pretty shadows. No doors. I want!

me: "I love this room!" 

uncle: "Yes, it's a cruising room."

me: "It's for cruising?!"

uncle: "Ya, cruising."

me: [laughs] "Cruising!"

uncle: "Er! I mean, cozy!"

.sentiments of a bicycle.

.dancing leaves.

the leaves dance gracefully, 

together with the sun.

.skies.

When I see skies like these, I wish I have my Canon 450, instead of my Nokia N82.

.kissing angels on my kitchen floor.

.baudelaire: a self-portrait, by lois boe hyslop and francis e.hyslop, jr..

[p.15] "It was partly through leisure that I grew. To my great detriment, since leisure without fortune increases debts. But to my great profit so far as sensibility, meditation and the possibility of dandyism and dilettantism were concerned."

[p.117] "Exiled on earth in the midst of jeers,

His giant wings keep him from walking."

[p.199] "One always imagines that there will be time,

and then death, that is the irreparable, arrives."

.talking art over beer.

prof: "The irony about art is that you can produce naively produce art if you don’t know about art history. If you know art history, you may never produce art. History becomes a burden."

me: "Because you realize you can never create anything original. Someone else has already done it." 

prof: "Yes. But if you know art history, and yet can still create art, now, you’re somebody worth looking out for."

me: "You can still be commercially successful if you naively produce art."

prof: "Yes, you can sell it to thirty-somethings who just enter the market and doesn't know. But if an expert comes along, he’ll know. I have a friend who knows nothing about art history, and a friend who does. One doesn't care, just take a canvas, splash paint all over, and earn big bucks. My other friend who knows art history is perpetually pissed at the other. [laughs]"

me: “I don’t like it when artists don’t say directly what they want to say. Why can’t they just say it? Words seem easier.”

prof: “No, words, like images, have multiple meanings. It’s okay to have multiple meanings. And most artists think they are obvious.”

me: "They're not. I think should strip everything down to the bare minimum in art. Get rid of all the fuss. The extra stuff. Like writing."

prof: "That has been tried. Minimalism. 1920s."

me: [pauses] "Okay, I think I prefer to naively produce art." 

prof: "[laughs]… Hey, nothing is easy, alright?"

.about today.

I love days like these. A little reading in school. Then an afternoon session of beers/fish and chips with my prof at Brewerkz, where topics such as Marx, money, art, things, people and living creatively popped up. Next up was dinner with yj and zl in a rooftop café at Holland Village, where conversations treaded on the terrain of office colleagues, unthinking behaviors, movies, jokes, anger management and annoying people on MRTs. I also managed to lay my hands on the latest issue of Monocle after that.

Today was so enjoyable, that even realizing you’ve struck me off your friends list on Facebook when I got home doesn’t blemish it, nor hurt me very much.

.a pretty flower.

.fallen leaves.

.around my home.