Just like that i reach pandan already!

A 97 went by.
And then a 10.
Followed by a 100.
And then a 57.
A stick of djarum finished.
A 80 that doesn't stop here.
A rws8.
A 145.
And oh yes, 30 is right behind it.

And behind its probably a 143 but the 30 came first.
30 seats empty on the upper deck.

Soccer was being played on the phablet in front, and a hard time was had trying to figure out who's on which side. But soon the whistle blew. And then it alighted before play resumed.

Its already the haw par villa.

A noisy menage a trois across the aisle, a banter between patchy singlish and monosyllabic 'hur'; theirs the only punctuation in the 'rawr' of the air conditioning, the only couple seeming not to mind either in their silent contented huddle.

The others,we wait solemnly our turn,to reach our bath,the bed; and beyond that more djarums at bus stops, more waiting our turns to, rehash,replay,redo, re-each,every day,month,year until finally the clock stops.

30 on the way back

A couple sits in front.

And in front of them another couple.
And another.

Ignoring the foreign workers half the people on this upper deck are coupled.

They smile at each other. They snuggle against the roaring air conditioning. They talk in low voices beyond the air conditioned roar.

How did they meet? Or decide to couple? Have they coupled? Did they start there? How young were they then? How long more will they go at it? Why couple? Will it hold true?

How short is a scholarship bond or handphone contract against the til death do us part of coupling; he won't change,she changed. A year may be all it takes. A new iphone. A new couple. Its faster to give her the house and stop seeing her right away.

And cheaper by far,cash on delivery. What do amateurs know? Hire professionals that will do a good job of it. After all, bus drivers and air conditioning servicemen are,too.

Dead Cat

Dead Cat
After my meditation session last Sunday, I saw a dead cat under a tree with all its entrails. I was shocked and horrified...I wanted to take a photograph of it to do art, but I did not, partly because I was scared for some unknown reason, and partly because I thought I had given up on drawing dead animals and had moved on to art that is more life-affirming and less depressing. The image haunted me for a week. Of course, when I walked past the tree this afternoon, the dead cat was no longer there.

Earlier this year, I was working on a series of dead birds, which turned out to be rather unsucessful. The works were based on the same photograph of a dead bird which had mysteriously lost its head. My works have often been labelled as morbid or depressing because they are black and they dwell on the darker side of life. Nonetheless, the dead cat screamed out at me 'This is art! This is the very substance of life itself!' I regretted not taking photographs of the dead cat, though I must admit that the entrails were too gory and revolting for anyone to bear. I wonder if the cat had died as a result of human cruelty or simply a case of bad labour. I suspect it was the latter, for who in the right mind would dissect a cat like this, except for the purpose of demon-worship?

Jeans

Jeans (Dec 2011, edited August 2012)
A pair of legs wearing a pair of dirty worn-out jeans -- blue, brown and grey. The jeans must have survived a war or years of toil at a construction site. They must have survived barbed wires and bullets, knives and nails, thorns and teeth. They must have been soiled in mud and washed in rain. They must have seen labourers and soldiers, vagabonds and artists, prostitutes and beggars. Stained with grease and paint, torn and ripped apart at various places, stitches and patches here and there with strands of loose thread hanging, they seem to have a story to tell. The stitches remind one of wounds and scars, as well as poverty and a violent history. Never have I seen a pair of jeans so beautiful, so alive...

A pair

A pair boarded the bus. And they're seated across the isle.

Chitter,chatter, about some flim flam or the other.

The kid some rows behind still emanating glassy crashes and now this pair.

Steals a sideways glance.

Spaghetti top,blue straps,low slung,chilly in strong air conditioning,well stacked. Too bad the view to the other one is blocked;the nearer one well stacked. Not too bad then.

Then they get off.
Aw shucks.

But the kid's also gone.
Peace and quiet at last,in the gripping hand.
Not too bad then.

bus 51

A bill board that said "help save the fridge".

A constant stream of breaking glass sounds. Probably a kid playing angry birds or..dare i imagine? an adult playing tetris on his phone or tablet(phablet?) without the benefit of earphones. The idea that others may not find his game as entertaining as he(especially when not the player,not even observing the game being played) not even occurring. Likely a kid then. Adulthood. It supposedly manifests somewhen between the early twenties and late thirties. And then you get all concerned about other people.

Ah. That took us quite a ways down along the path. From city hall to zion road. Past a temple and some urns along the road.

Never ceases to amuse me. The Chinese ghost month. Or festival as some put it.

Yes it is festive. Maybe even more so than the new year. We're a ghost fearing people. Gods,we ask them to protect us from ghosts. Ghosts,we hold banquets in their honour. Getai to entertain them. Traditional Chinese theatre may yet become a lost art,but not while we still fear our ancestors.

But back to amusing. Nowadays they provide urns,pots or whatever they're called in public spaces to facilitate burning joss. It(along with the getais) probably irked the other races,this yearly joss burning festival;its like the Indonesian haze but made by your neighbour and perhaps smellier. It probably motivated more than a few policy scholars to write policy proposals to fine it. It may have even been passed into law or regulation at some point. But you can change laws and even governments; not ancestors, certainly not their cultural and dietary habits. And so mohamed went to the mountain and tried to encourage his people to burn joss in an adult manner.

Why don't whatever parent that belongs to that kid buy it a pair of earphones?

What is your ranking?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AY5zLvBengQ

1. Cristina Deutekom
2. Sumi Jo
3. Natalie Dessay

Next few not in order of merit:

Lucia Popp
Clara Polito
Beverley Sills
Edda Mosser
Ingeborg Hallstein

General comments:
1. Start seems strange, a bit shriekish-sharp? Seems to have a voice break at about 0.43 - 0.47

2. Starts not so good, but 1.08 onwards is okay. Helps that she smiles :)

3. Good

4. Can't pinpoint what's wrong, but she's just weird. First few lines her volume just suddenly went up at the end of each line...

5. Okay until highest note went off at 2.40

6. Similar to No. 1

7. Good

8. Similar to No. 1, 4.03 part a bit strange

9. Good

10. Good

11. Very good, seems effortless!

12. Good

*13. Excellent, sounds almost like an instrument esp. at 6.22 onwards

14. Seems to be worst of the lot, or I just can't appreciate her style.

15. Good

16. Highest note seems a LITTLE bit off at 7.48 - 7.49

17. There's a break at 8.15 which shouldn't be there

**18. Perfect control. In terms of technique the only one that can match No. 13.

***19. Sounds effortless! Helps that she's graceful and her performance is pleasant to watch.

20. Just downright irritating.

Sumi Jo, Queen of Opera

Is this even human??????
I like this comment: I think Mozart was tired and took wrong order for Soprano part and Flute part

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YTx1BeHiyvw

Badass female Japanese hip-hop artiste

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OUcQUBnzpjk

The Marne Road Temple Discourse

My proposed work for the “Is that a temple?” exhibition:

In this writing, the question of “Is that a temple?” is directed at three things: a) the building b) the body and c) the images.

The building

I cannot remember when I first discovered the temple at Marne Road. It was concealed by a tiny forest and I thought it was in ruins. The first time I wanted to go near it to take pictures, I saw two black dogs and I decided to go back another day instead.

It was two to three years later when I returned to the area. I deliberately took a different and longer route to avoid the black dogs. I made a detour round a canal and avoided the grass area.

To my surprise, I stumbled upon a red-light district near the temple. There were a few old uncles and foreign workers; not a single lady was in sight. The quarters had narrow passages lit by pink fluorescent tubes. I was afraid, I did not know why. Perhaps the black dogs would suddenly appear. Or perhaps it was obvious that I was at a place where I was not supposed to be. I quickly slipped my camera into my bag. Then I left the quarters and hurried towards the temple. There, I managed to take one or two pictures before I saw one of the black dogs a few metres away. I quickly left the place.

I never found out what gods they worshipped at the temple. I only guessed that it was a Chinese temple, for there was a brick joss burner. I never found out why there is a red light district near the temple. Perhaps someone more adventurous and daring can find out the answers to these questions.

The body

Is that a temple? I know for sure that the physical building is a temple, and it is neither abandoned nor in ruins. However, it is interesting that the temple is next to a red-light district where people sell their bodies.

The question of ‘Is that a temple?’ is now directed at the human body. According to the Bible (see 1 Corinthians 6:19 – 20), the body is the holy temple of God, and one should honour God with one’s body and not defile it.

Even though we do not sell our bodies and most of us are unbelievers, the idea that one should honour one’s body like a holy temple is worthy of consideration. What about junk food, smoking, alcohol, sleep deprivation, working overtime, slimming pills, plastic surgery and so on? It might be easy to point out that the prostitutes are defiling their bodies, but how are we treating our own bodies? What about your body – is that a temple? How do you treat it?

The images

I am digressing. Let me return to the beginning of the story. I wanted to take pictures of the temple. Here are two of the photographs I had taken:




In the first picture, the grass area and the forest seem to be the main subject; the temple is almost invisible. In the second picture, the temple is concealed by the vegetation, and the details of its architecture are not clearly visible.

Even though I had taken two photographs of the temple, it is not clear that the main subject of these photographs is a temple. Because the temple is concealed rather than revealed, it prompts the viewer to ask “Is that a temple?” when confronted with these images. One might be thinking that I was taking pictures of a forest if not for this written text or without the context of this exhibition.

These images were created as a result of how I viewed the temple, and the viewer’s interpretation of these images is influenced by this narrative-discourse. It might be of interest to the viewer that these images show what I saw when I walked past the area for the first time… …

Conclusion

It began with a walk which led to a discovery of a hidden temple. Photographs were taken, and the question of ‘Is it a temple?’ was raised and directed at the building, the body, and the images.

I do not want to end this discourse here, for there are still other issues to consider. We have not asked ourselves exactly what a temple is. Surely it is more than a building with unique architectural features? We need to consider the practices within a temple, as well as how the temple is managed. What if the priests and members of religious orders take advantage of their followers? What if there is a mismanagement of funds? What if a temple is managed like a multi-national corporation? Is that a temple?

***

"Is it a temple?" will be on from 17 to 22 Dec at Evil Empire, Niven Road.