Cheongkash’s Weblog

This post has been floating around in my head for a long time.I have learnt to appreciate geniuses, and they are very much acquired taste.

I have never thought of myself as genius, and I don’t think I will ever be. Have been watching a lot of “My Brilliant Brain” before I left for India though.Found out that one common thread among geniuses: they tend to be weird people, socially handicapped (in a small ways or larger ones), and not very good in dealing with relationships.

Of course,that’s not true of all geniuses, there are some that are blessed in both IQ and EQ. Though geniuses know a lot, they seem to spend more time with things, rather than people. They seem to love to know more about things, theories, and perhaps perceive the world in a theoretical way where everything can be owned with the mind.

I have never mixed much with these people, been traditionally attracted to socially effervescent characters.But that day when I was leaving for India,I was taking stock of all my relationships, I suddenly felt very guilty, like I havent been enough of a friend to Cassandra.Like Ive missed her out even though she was written into my life. I havent listened or known, though I had so many opportunities to, I haven’t loved, realised or understood, or let this person add to my perspective.

So I called Cassandra and we had a three part conversation, each lasting an hour. I think she is one of the smartest persons I’ve ever met, and definitely one to change my life, to realise how small I am.

Cassandra’s drawings have always been passionate, obsessive, intense ,perhaps evolving from a chock-a-bloc of emotions and a recognition of the fallenness in human nature.I’ve always admired artists and the time they spend to express their imagination, believing in their own worlds and not others. During our conversation, Cassandra told me of storylines for graphic novels, did an extensive commentary on transformers, we talked about Shakespeare, Titus Andronicus, King Lear,Hamlet, Taming of the Shrew, Othello, she seemed to be able to quote something from everything.(and I cant confirm what she was quoting was true or not) We talked about Helena Bonham Carter, Tim Burton and many other things I did not know about, many other things which I thought would not matter to my life in a practical sense.

But I am truly in awe of the depth and breadth of a genius’ mind.Of course, Cassandra does not speak in a very “attractive” manner so to speak, there is a “marked verbosity” in her speech, perhaps a lack of what I call “the sense of others”.There are many times in our conversation where I got lost, simply cos she was going too fast, or my mind was too retarded to follow up.

So to free myself of all distractions, I closed my eyes and listened to her on the phone.I think these were some of the best moments of my life, when I was transported to a “universe” that was not my own and truly free to imagine or feel someone else’s world. Some of us, our “worlds”, perspectives are very much rooted in reality and day to day interactions, while others are totally inventive.They have worlds of their own, like Middle Earth, like Harry Porter, like Sandman and all the Neil Gaiman stuff, and this is not the common world that other people can easily understand.Nonetheless, it is beautiful.

I respect Cassandra and people like that. Because my imagination is dull next to theirs. When I closed my eyes to listen, I felt small, very small in Cassandra’s world, almost as someone who would not matter, because I didn’t have all that mattered: which is IMAGINATION. Reality has dulled it, I am boxed because I have obligations to maintain, ties to uphold, people to love: all these being weights to hold me down, in good ways or bad.

One thing though: geniuses are passionate, that’s what they are. They pursue what they want doggedly, without being afraid of opportunity costs: they do whatever it takes because they have a vision of what they want it to be.

I don’t know. I am still contemplating my way in that. I think it is beautiful that people can be so passionate about somethings. As we grow up and meet with failures, it is easy to be ambivalent, to withdraw from injecting so much faith or expectation into things, for fear of failing.But passion carries a long way and eliminates those factors.It is something I desire, something I truly want for myself.

But yet again, putting all your eggs in one basket: there must be some space for disappointment.In the intense pursuit for their worlds, there must be a lot of OTHER things they must be missing out on.

People like Cassandra,people so different from me have changed my life and broadened my perspective.But there is one thing I believe in: there is a common denominator in man, we want the same things when the day is done.That is the essence I am looking for in all my interactions with people: the one same humanness that exists in each of us within the shell of different-ness.

And so genius is as genius does.I am in love with the breadth and the depth of their minds: I think it is a wonderous place awaiting to be explored.

Some pictures I took at MICA.Sarah once said kids were like little drunken human beings—I couldn’t agree more!

What I love abt kids is their sponteneity,their purity, their lack of world-weariness in any way. A child’s hope, their fervour and curiousity for life: that’s magic.

Anw, I converted these from large files, to small thumbnail size pngs, cos this blog apparently does not have very much storage space, so I plead your understanding for the small and disappointing image size.Wish I cld show you the big photos though, they have much more impact:)

Garnishes for lunch.Those red things are carrots.Funky how Indian carrots are red,not orange.

the happy happy kid.

this one loves making life difficult for me.

the kid who loves to model.

fishing on dry land:an exercise in imagination.

mischief personified.

the janitor’s kids whom I absolutely love.

I seem to love kids as long as I dont have to be with them for more than two hours.
Shall post more photos of us and things soon <3

“Today was good,
today was fun
tomorrow is another one.”
–Dr Seuss.

Im sitting in Nuria’s room now,having a finger freeze.It’s getting hard to curl my fingers,so Im typing with my fingers straight out.She is playing “The Carpenter’s”, top of the world:how alabama and sentimental. It’s the other song that makes me cry besides “Hey Jude”.

Oh I found out how to work the heater ystd!And ever since then, baths have been taking twenty minutes;they qualify on my “top three things I want to do most in this cold weather” list.Abt the weather,as Nuria says,close your eyes and this is Australia.It’s cold and dry and with sunshine. Just no beer, cos the campus technically does not allow booze.This state is Hindu and religious,so no alcohol.But it’s ok as the creative people make up all the fun,people aint as uptight here so unlike Singaporeans, they don’t need booze to
unwind.

The campus is quiet right nw sch term hasnt started and people are still back in their hometowns.So Im having so much time to blog.

Last night we hung out at the midnight cafe and talked to this cool guy,whom I shall name A. for convenience sake.He’s cool, he seems bad-ass-cool complete with flippant manner.I love talking to snags but I think bad boys are very attractive.*blush*He ordered this thing from the cafe, fried corn: which was deep fried corn covered in sweet and sour sauce.It’s corn at its best, I swear it tastes like sweet and sour pork!This is a veggie state but they have ways of creating their meat.And I tell them, once you’ve tried meat: there is NO TURNING BACK.

So he invited us to movies that they were screening in the lecture theatre. Twas like 1am, and apparently LTs are left open at night so students can use them for whatever they want to use em for.

After much haggling and deciding between five people, we settled on “Garden State” starring Zach Braff(the scrubs guy) and Natalie Portman. Zach Braff was some twenty something guy with a loser life, he was indifferent to everything, he cant feel anything.And Natalie Portman starred as Samantha, some girl that he met at a clinic: she was spontaneous, innocent and she even buries her pets. They fall in love, duh.

And Samantha changed Zach Braff’s life forever.
I remember watching this shit, actually reminds me very much of Elizabethtown.

Haha BUT I NOTICED THAT ZACH BRAFF LIFTED A SCENE WHOLESALE FROM BEFORE SUNRISE.Ironically it was abt “totally original moments”.

I respect Zach Braff as a young and struggling film maker, but I dont think he’s particularly good at the craft. Was watching “Scrubs”(starring Zach Braff) on the plane,twas almost as interesting as a blank wall next to “House”,another medical show.

Back to Garden State, Braff told Nat Portman’s character,Samantha, “I like you because you are innocent,ok? I like you cos you’re innocent.”

Food for thought girls: If a guy says you are INNOCENT,is that meant as a compliment?

But I do identify with Nat Portman’s character.We like speaking to strangers and I’ve been blessed with some pretty enjoyable random acquaintances.My Momma told me not to speak to strangers, but she ain’t a good example herself,so I grew up watching my parents talking to strangers.I guess that explains why I speak quite a bit more to the locals, I wish Nuria Leigh and Erwin wld be a little more adventurous though.oh well, takes time.

Erwin just said last night, “It’s OK. Im chinese,I have an excuse to be shy and quiet!” Aiya, of course he meant it as a joke!

On a separate note, I cannot sleep without reading every night.Im not tired enough but somehow my compatriots seem to be zonked out every time of the day.Im just hoping the rest of the uni students come back quick so we’ll have more of a party instead of the quiet countryside zen I am in now.

So last night’s reading was Anthony Bourdain.I’d die to meet him, he says things with so much style.I think some people have a lot of knowledge,but no panache when they speak, others have so much style they could sell ice cubes to eskimos.

You could choose to say one thing in many ways. The boring way:
” The sky is blue.”

People with style say something like:
“Sky’s bluer than Richard Gere’s eyes today.”

You get what I mean, these stylised speakers whose sentences have so much accessory to them.At least it aint boring.

And Anthony Bourdain–HE is my ultimate style guy baby.Read “A Cook’s Tour ” if you have a chance.

He writes:

“Think about the last time food transported you.Your first taste of champagne on a woman’s lips…steak frites when you were in Paris as a teenager with a Eurorail pass,you’d blown almost all your dough on hash in Amsterdam and this slightly chewy piece of rumpsteck(rump steak) was the first substantial meal in days…a single wild strawberry,so flavourful that it took your head off… your grandmother’s lasagne…a first sip of stolen ice-cold beer on a hot summer night, hands smelling of crushed fireflies…leftover pork fried rice, because your girlfriend always has some in her fridge…steamer clams,dripping with drawn butter from your first family vacation to the new jersey shore…rice pudding froma Fort Lee Diner…bad Cantonese when you were a kid and Chinese was still exotic and wonderful and you thought fortune cookies were fun….dirty water hot dogs… and a few beads of caviar, licked off a nipple…”
(Pardon the dirty reference,loved this para)

—A Cook’s Tour, Anthony Bourdain

Ok, this has been a long entry about nothing Indian.But just having a long wait for the guys to get ready and go out now.

Ps. Nuria is wearing a stupid brown beanie,the colour of Mr Bean’s Bear.And she still can’t believe that Benazir Bhutto is dead:)

Im gonna learn cricket now.Hope my nose doesnt get busted by the ball!

—11:08am in Ahmedabad

I NEVER WANT TO FORGET THIS DAY:

IT IS SUCH A HAPPY ONE.

I look back on old journals and see much angst in my life, but even more to be thankful for.Being angsty was a massive waste of energy, really. When I read all the words I wrote, they were full of raw power, rage, just jumping out of the page to bite me.I even felt tired just reading my own journals, literally too tired to read on.

Thank you to all the who-evers that were by my side, you deserve a round of applause as the tortured audience of my intense human drama. I must admit I was melodramatic and theatrical back then: I did have the propensity to blow up every small issue. Looking back now, I think it is a talent of sorts, because I doubt I can blow up issues to such apocalyptic heights nowadays.

The show’s over, I got me sanity.

But as Dr. Seuss says ” Adults are just obsolete children and the hell with them!”

Weirdly I recalled a Harris moment while bathing today.He was distributing essays to the class and he said to Derek, “you have a sense of humour, here’s one for you”, to nadia, “you have a sense of humour too.”, and finally when it came to me Harris said

“you have a sense of humour,you need to learn to use it more.”

I will and I should.

“JY is a little cloud
Trying to find out what life is all about
Float float little cloud!
You are young and strong
So make your shout!”

I wrote this on Jieying’s notes one fine day at lecture.In total randomness. And she is using it for her blogskin

capital “wow”, like— WOW!

I declare that I have an amazing family.

Today, surprising events occured when I went out with cousins Callistus,Aster,Lingyi and Mummy,who is always a permanent fixture in our teenage outings.As Jesus was fully man and fully God, Mummy is fully teenager and fully adult all at the same time.

Aster as usual, was sleep-deprived from organising parties. She had to do a big one at rouge tonight.We picked her up from Bras Basah, and she was looking for the weirdest things,like hospital tags. Hospital tags, I found out, referred to those wristbands they tag you with when you go to events like Sonicfest and Womad.It was 2pm and she needed those things BY 4pm. WHERE THE HELL DO YOU ACTUALLY FIND THEM?

You might not know the answer. But the forces of my family combined, ALWAYS produces an answer.Most aunties would have given the disapproving eye knowing Aster was organising night events at such a young age, but my mom was only glad to assist. In desperation, we asked the restaurant (where we were having lunch at),for the Yellow Pages Buying Guide.Yellow Pages really reminded me of the dreadful days of event organising, where we wld go down the list to find sponsors or call for price quotations.

We called several companies,mainly specialising in hospital supplies,in hope of getting 500 hospital tags in two hours. Picture scene: family crowding ard YellowPages in a corner of the restaurant, whipping out handphones, describing numerous times what “hospital tags” were to numerous clueless receptionists on the other end of of numerous lines.

These were nail-biting moments, to be rejected over and over again as time was ticking by.It was strange, how Aster’s problem turned into our problem. People always say: Don’t make your problem mine,I thank God that saying doesnt apply in my family.

So after 15 phone calls,my mother of all people, remembered she had a friend who worked in Mt E. and wallah! we finally got not one but two contacts, who sold hospital tags.At first, some Michael guy insisted that he did not do direct sale,but after a good deal of persuasion from Aster(in her sweetest voice), he relented.

I must say I have very smart cousins that can get things done when it comes to the crunch.

Aside from Michael, I contacted a certain Shirley who was supposed to stock hospital tags as well.She had to check for prices/availability and would “get back to us by five” which was simply too late.She called back only to find we took Michael’s offer instead.

” Oh.” she said, like all dismayed people would say.

Not only that, she was a “sticky sales person”. It was funny how she tried to talk to me like an old friend,splicing in questions abt “THE COMPETITOR” (Michael’s company) along the way, where did we find him etc.I regretted for a split second for being so patronising to her questions, and ended the phonecall prematurely with a very polite “Happy holidays!”.

Nonetheless,what mattered was:with my family’s combined forces, we got the tags for Aster , and delivered her from her agony. As I was talking to Aster, I realised how we were both in mass communications,but loved very different things altogether. She likes coordinating events, I cannot stand doing that at all. Events consist of running ard, doing very sai-kang things, many many small things that end up being something big altogether.Did lotsa these things last year and found it quite choreful.But she absolutely loves it though: she’s so on the ball!

After that went shopping with Callistus, and experienced my first ever time “dressing a guy”. He wanted to buy Polo Tees.So the hunt ranged from Centrepoint to Wheelock.All along the trip, I had half a mind to call Shaun and ask him where he got that fantastic blue and green polo tee from, the one he wore to Renzi’s baby shower.But just when I put my fingers to the keypad, we chanced upon all these fantastic looking polo tees at Mark and Spencer’s! Callistus was made to try seven of them, I think, before we settled on my fave: the one with green stripes and a navy blue base—$45. The first time I saw that shirt, I knew we weren’t leaving the store without it!

He offered to buy me a wallet in return. But the only one that caught my eye was one from Coach, which was $475.

After coming to terms with the fact that the wallet wasn’t meant to be, we went to dinner with mom, which was madness.”Chicken noodle soup” was available as one of the starters on the menu, and she proceeded to inquire the waiter:

” Is Chicken noodle soup like chicken soup with Maggee Mee?”

The waiter did try his very best not to laugh, though me and Callistus were far from making the effort. My mother says the funniest things.

When the steak arrived, things got even worse. She put two onion rings around a piece of steak and said:

“Look! The steak is wearing earrings!!!”

which gave me a good reason to laugh for a very,very long time.

You know the guys always talk about getting a girl “with the right amount of dumb”. I suspect my mother is an excellent example of this. She’s smart enough to make a living and do things well, but when it comes to jokes, she’s gifted in being blonde!

She gives me hope you know.Don’t need to be very smart to have a good life, just gotta smart enough to have “the right amount of dumb”.

I am increasingly becoming like village folk these days. My mind is taking a holiday in Timbaktoo.

The mental vacation package consists of :not being bothered with impressing people, not being bothered to search for entertaining things to say these days.These days have mostly been about listening to friends and their lovely verbal banter,which, makes my day.

Interestingly, Im not caught up with making a presence anymore.

I used to think of conversation as a ball game.Love the high speed rebounds, the way my mind would try to run three steps ahead of my opponent, and how I REFUSE to let the ball end up flat in my court.Im actually quite turned on by people who can “bounce” conversations as effortlessly as a mirror reflects. The content doesn’t really matter, it’s more the art and a sense of maintaining power in the game.Conversation and dialogue, is more than noise to fill a silence.It is the field for power struggles.Every line either builds or diminishes an individual’s power.

Recently though,I haven’t been hard up with these power things that exist in conversations.I decide to be very natural and let whoever take the upper hand.

Back then was also the phase of sports, discipline, motivating people: everyday my mind was an active athelete reigning itself in.

but NOW Im leaving my mind in Timbuktoo, being rather hang loose abt all these mental disciplines. I hope to get them back though—when I decide to get them back.

Weirdly, a friend just branded me as one who doesn’t seem to lie much.That means a lot to me,because it is a quiet reminder of God’s healing.It’s truly Him and Him alone who liberates me to live without falsehoods and pretensions.

I don’t need to be a witty conversationalist to be loved, I don’t need to be exceptionally fit or enthusiastic to be loved,though these are things that I am full well capable of when I want to do them.But nothing compares to just being honestly me!

Come to think of it,this break has been a good long one, and terribly comfortable. I am afraid of receding into negative growth when I’m too comfortable with things.Then I remember I am loved for my being and not doing.

Somehow I feel a kettle whistling, an alarm clock ringing, a nudging at the back of my head. Perhaps it’s God rapping on my hotel room door, saying that I need to get my mind out of Timbuktoo, and hit the road again.

Had supper with my cell again.
I really love my cell.Despite its slightly elitist twinge, but who cares, I love it a lot.Hell and that’s all that really matters.

We went to chomp chomp for supper AGAIN. mainly cos we do not know how to get anywhere else. Learning to drive and getting your license is the easy part, getting around without getting lost (esp w rising fuel prices now), that’s really the challenge.

The Chomp Chomp parking spaces do allow Shermaine to practice her Parallel-Parking skills though. haha we were waiting to watch KB parallel-park for a good show, something vaguely out of just for laughs: but magnifico! he is amazingly good at it, better than driving on straight roads at least.

Sherm unfortunately mounted the curb today, but she’s a great driver usually.She went too “into” the space, and couldnt reverse to get her car in the correct position.She was panicking I sensed and John and me, technically couldn’t help much cos we can’t parallel park.

Then KB came and had this face like he was going to make some idiotic joke to laugh at Shermaine when she was still stuck.

Before KB could say anth, the categorically passive John did the most unthinkable thing…he raised his voice.

“SHUT UP K BOON. SHUT UP,YOU JUST SHUT UP!”
I was so afraid a fight was gonna break out between the both of them.but John looks pretty “funny” when he’s fierce,still… convincing enough.

And thank God there was Mark—He was really great and directed Sherm at the wheel. Love Mark man: things are always safe when he’s around.FUNNY TOO.

I used to hate the idea of Christian guys “protecting” girls. but somehow John and Mark’s performance were impressive, for lack of a better word.and Sherm-werm was amazingly calm too.

There is something strangely charming abt out how a guy can get so worked up abt protecting a girl or her feelings, Im convinced it’s something primal: like how a hen protects her chicks.

In fact,John’s little SHUT UP uproar reminds me about a monkey that I saw at Peirce resevoir.I was watching these two monkeys humping as I ran past and the male monkey noticed me staring rudely.Suddenly from a tame tender thing, he started FLASHING HIS TEETH and CHASING AFTER ME.

perhaps it was this same instinct to protect,not unlike the monkey’s,that caused John assert himself when the time called for it.it doesnt even have to be protecting a girlfriend, just protecting a friend.

haha and the Bible says “love always protects”

He was one of the lucky artists to be rich,dead AND alive.

The rock star of art,the rock star of life, he didn’t make his small and silent contribution to the harmony of the orchestra.

He made his shout to the world,and revolutionised the way they saw it.

HE IS:ANDY WARHOL.

||| STEPPING AWAY FROM THE LIGHT OF DAY. |||

I walk into 72-13, mhd sultan rd,the place i know as a bare exhibition space.It is transformed to another world,Andy Warhol’s world.

Stepping away from the light of day,into the dark entrance space,only the two pillars lit,Warhol’s paintings on all four sides.a rotating pink spotlight by the side.
This must have been what it was like for him: ultra-modern,70s 80s duran duran music and a hint of androgyny in the air.

||| A is for Andy. |||

That is the theme of the exhibition.And its logo:a big capital A,with the words, “is for ANDY” right across its bar.At the doorway,a 3 x 2m backdrop,with the logo repeated,like one of those backdrops the celebrities stop to take photos against.

Three excited young girls stopped us: “Excuse me,can you help us take a photo there?”(against the backdrop)
It didn’t matter if it was a handphone camera.They felt famous for three seconds against the backdrop.

OK,
perhaps six:they weren’t too good at posing so we had to do the photo twice.

Andy himself once said:”Everybody will be famous for 15 minutes.”
It got overused,eventually.He revived it:
“I got bored with that line.I never use it anymore.My new line is “In 15 minutes,everybody will be famous.”‘

||| MAO WAS FRAMED. |||

Walking into the main exhibition space, 6 x Mao, welcomes me, all with different coloured lips.Green,pink,hot pink,yellow.

“The focus of these paintings is Mao’s mouth,” said the Frenchman who led the guided tour ard the exhibits.Why? where both the greatest propaganda and greatest truths come from,i guess.

so 6 x Mao, was framed in 6 x special way.It is called float framing– where the painting floats between the frame does not touch the glass nor the backing.It is held there,according to Frenchman, by an invisible acid-free material.

Warhol paintings,including Maos, are framed in simple white or simple black frames.The frame should not call attention to itself, all eyes shld be on the painting.
aside: I don’t doubt that Warhol would be capable of glamorising a picture frame.If he did Campbell’s soup and an electric chair,why not paint picture frames too.Nobody paints a picture frame.

<>

Hugh Grant bought his copy of “Liz” at $3 million.He just sold it for $23 million recently.
Andy said:”It would be very glamorous to be reincarnated as a great big ring on Liz Taylor’s finger.”

||| A HYPERREALITY. |||
Some of Warhol’s paintings consist of a real-er image of an object,next to an an abstracted image of it.Ref Perrier line of advertisements and Muratti cigarettes.

It’s not about objects,it’s what we make of them (the abstracted image).The hyper-reality we create out of a concrete object,values,meanings and status attached to them.Im guessing that’s what Warhol meant when he put the abstract next to the real.Out of simple objects, we construct an abstract reality.

Out of Warhol’s painting,I inteprete complexities.

But he would have been disappointed.
Andy only wanted to be known as ” a deeply superficial person.”

||| THANK YOU ANDY. |||

“An artist is somebody who produces things that people don’t need to have,but he thinks it would be a good idea to give.”–Andy Warhol

Mr.Warhol,you justify the cause of many bloggers in this world.

||| ART IS FOR THE MASSES. |||

This was an Andy quote along the wall.not whole.i couldnt fish out my notebook fast enough to copy it.
Significantly,it was put next to the world-famous “campbell’s soup” paintings.Andy took something of masses,of everyday life, and turned it into art.

So just to check if he achieved his purpose,I asked the Indian Security Guard next to me:”Uncle what do you think of these paintings?”

He wasn’t expecting a question from any one in a room full of people dressed differently from him.

Diffidently, “Errrr.I don’t know.I’m not the right person to ask.”
“Is it nice?”
“I really don’t know.”
“Would you come for an exhibition to see these?”

No reply.Apprehensive smile.

-social experiment ends-

||| UNCLE. |||

It wouldn’t be correct to say, that he stuck out like a white head among the black.
Apart from flagrant disrespect,the description is technically inaccurate because some artsy caucasians there had their hair dyed white.

But the short old man,60-ish,hunched over,was peering into the short synopsis next to Warhol’s “flowers”.

He looked ripped straight out of a game of chess by the HDB void deck and put in an art exhibition.
Not that he was wearing slippers:a respectable shirt(untucked) black pants and black rimmed eric khoo glasses. Such big bifocals unwittingly put him in the league artistic trendsters,who revived worshipped these big glasses in their new-age old-age confusion.

One would expect UNCLE to come with a relative,a son,a daughter-in law.
But there were none of these people guiding him around.
UNCLE came alone.
No Western man cane either,but an umbrella acted just as well.
(not a golf umbrella,or a fancy japanese umbrella.just,you know.a plain umbrella that heartlanders carry)

He was still concentrating intently on the small ant-like words that were escaped his eye.
Then the female security guard came.
As gentle as a nurse would to a patient in an old folk’s home,she said:

“Uncle,cannot bring your umbrella in ahh…”
(oh! Singlish in a high-end art exhibition.how appalling!)
But UNCLE hardly noticed her presence yet.
Then again, slightly louder was too loud in an art exhibition: “UNCLE!” she tapped his shoulder, “I SAID CANNOT BRING YOUR UMBRELLA IN,HAVE TO PUT OUTSIDE.”
He stirred.
“COME COME FOLLOW ME THIS WAY.THIS WAY ahhh”

yes i am sure,uncle is actually working for the KGB,sent to find out how much exactly warhol authentic American art was worth.they employ the weakest,most harmless looking characters to conceal their tracks. and THAT umbrella might morph into a getaway tool of sorts.:p

UNCLE. was funky,man.He comes to warhol exhibitions.
The Singlish treatment was unecessary.

||| ART: paying for devotion |||
Warhol pioneered the silk screen technique in his studio,called “the factory”,where art was mass reproduced and colour played around with.

A.W’s philosophy:”Isn’t life a series of images that change as they repeat themselves?”

In the tour around the hall, 20-odd people clamoured around the warhol paintings, each having their own realisations,perceptions and unique appreciations of the works.Everyone,in a sense,could be an artist if they took the time.Warhol had a new way of seeing things,like many people,from my experience,do.

Just that he took the time to express his perceptions.And got famous,along the way.

I have a feeling that when you’re dead and gone,and someone clears out your living room,they will crush and throw paintings,writings,doodlings away,unless you called yourself an artist and devoted a substantial amt of time to your self-expression ie. art.

People dont pay for perceptions, they pay for time and devotion taken to express them.All the better with something new and revolutionary: like cubism or popart.Everyone has a perception,but not everyone is confident enough to make it into art that feeds or sells.

But Warhol didn’t set out to be a pauper: “Making money is art,and working is art and good business,is the best art.”

||| $$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$ |||

He had a series of silkscreens of the $-sign:
one of his signature art pieces,besides marilyn and campbell’s

It was by accident that he started silkscreening those:
“I’d asked around 10 or 15 people for suggestions. Finally one lady friend asked the right question, ‘Well, what do you love most?’ That’s how I started painting money. “—-Andy.

<<>>

He did Marilyn Superman and Mickey Mouse for the Americans, Venus the goddess for the Europeans(Romans?),Mao for the Chinese and Beethovan for the Germans.

No french?
He did the electric chair too.

||| LITTLE GIRL. |||

The little girl,not more than 7, was in her pretty white spaghetti top and denim skirt.She had dangly earrings already,for her age.With her long hair pulled back into a ponytail,the earrings drew attention to her young and tender neckline,that would someday grow long and defined, like a jaguar or cheetah’s sleek lines:a killer.

She was wearing boots.Brown boots scrunched up at the top,just like her mother’s.Restless, as a young girl would be in any art exhibition,she was moving ,swishing around like she was a fairy.

Then when she stopped,she was standing legs crossed,in one of the most beautiful model-like positions ive seen in my life.A KILLER.

yes,she is going to grow up to be a beautiful someone,marry a rich other, attend more art exhibitions in london,paris,new york after alighting from her private jet.

||| DIAMOND DUST |||
Our Frenchman exhibition guide said “DIAMOND DUST” in a very sexy accent.But he kept repeating it,cos Warhol used quite a bit of diamond dust in his various pieces.

The problem is Frenchman tells me what I already can see.

“DIAMOND DUST” overused,loses its magic.

||| AND THIS TAKES THE CAKE. |||
I wanted a silk screen andy warhol shirt,but the crowd/queue at the souveneir counter was SIMPLY chaotic. that’s it,I missed my $15 opportunity for a great shirt cos I didn’t want to wait.

At that very counter,I see Andy Warhol,silkscreened:onto paper,onto shirts,in many colours.The exact way HE did Marilyn,Liz,Venus,Beethovan,the Electric chair.

the man himself must have seen it coming: THE DAY THAT HE IS IMMORTALISED IN HIS VERY OWN METHOD.

but according to him, “Dying is the most embarassing thing that can happen to you.someone’s got to take care of all the details.”