A long time coming
14 August 2006
Dear buddies?
What a long time it has been. No time to write. No time for so many things. In fact, one of the reasons for my constant procrastination is that I seem to not be satiated by the minute in-between-times when doing ‘nothing’ is worth my investment. Anyone agree with me? So yes, when I could actually sit down to pen down my thoughts or state of affairs, I am thoroughly overwhelmed by the sheer difficulty of doing some word processing.
Right now, I’m next to my bedroom window on a cloudy but hot Saturday afternoon….ahhh…I could just stop there couldn’t I? Our little friend in WA remarked how I don’t update this ‘blog’ no more. Yes, it takes someone else to cajole me.
Firstly, I really think my apologies should go first and foremost to Adam Hopkins…for writing such long and thoughtful emails to me…only to hear from me words of supreme angst like….aarrrgghhh I have no time…I have no time. So Adam, this is my small way of reciprocating.
Ahem…So how are things settling down? Settling down is a rather funny feeling. I don’t think many people feel settled down anyhow. Do you Adam? After moving back to Adelaide? Does the new trinity in London feel the same? Are you where you want to be? Is WA an escape or a return to something you’ve wanted to be, Alistair? Tim, is home what you think it is in Melbourne? Zhin? What does settling in mean?
Frankly, we don’t know. I’ll let you guys know what’s gone through my mind in the last 6 months. For those who don’t know or think I’ve fallen to pieces, I am still in ‘private practice’. I’ve completed one garden and in the midst of supervising one show unit in the city. I am so glad that at this moment, the documentation has ‘ceased’ temporarily for the ‘for tender’stage.
Guess what guys…I’ve finally learnt to let go ‘a little’. I can remember Adam’s, “Have you finished yet?” as an iconic rhetorical question that can only be directed to me. I’ve learnt that there is no hurry in this line of work. Yeah, sometimes I work hard to develop certain components but am less ‘bogged’ down by trying to create originality. If this gives some food for thought, and if you want those nice phrases about where I am at, this may suffice; I think architecture which delights me is less about ‘architectonics’ but a ‘general feeling’ of rightness. Not that these are two opposites, but I find that architecture must both have a presence and a disappearance into thin air. It’s a wide experience not of right measurements but ‘right’ qualities which propose a window, an escape door to imagine places and things beyond the apparent.
So yes, it is good to labour over details and measurements that measure up into nice dimensions or multiples of 3 or 5 or 10 or 2….whatever, but these are very subordinate to the encompassing qualities of simultaneous presence/disappearance. Ikonic architecture…in the ‘religious’ sense of the word applied to the built environment.
I came to some of these conclusions after ‘not’ pondering on some really ‘modern’ works which sometimes seem to be rather denatured and have all the good intentions and proportions. They were a set of mathematical diagrams which forced a calculated aesthetic as opposed to an inspired idea which went beyond the tangible. Please forgive me Henry but I think Alvaro Siza was like that. The architecture became a set of interesting photographs and montages which seemed predetermined by angles of static views. This way of looking at things is very 2 dimensional, when what I think we should strive for is the fourth dimension.
So why am I saying this? Well I think too much of our youth is going to be spent at the office trying to overdetail (can you believe I am saying this) things which aren’t asking for it. And I actually think that it is not so much ‘work experience’ and looking at mere drawings that will eventually bring out good architecture. Yes, the training is important but mindless drafting ain’t going to make you the architect par excellence. By contrast, it’s the experience, human experience of living that adds great ‘value’ to one’s architecture (if it can be ‘posessed’). The repository that really matters is our imagination, the places and feelings stored in our memory because it had been experienced. It is architecture face to face and not through a piece of drawing.
To illustrate my point further, I’d have to admit that I have not lately been attracted to architecture (in the flesh) by being engrossed by the mathematical dimensions of a piece of stone, a tap or a handle. It is how they are experienced, where they are touched, how they are felt in a sequence to other objects. These journeys impose a great deal of emotion on a person who appreciates it, such that he is left with a story to recall rather than a mental calculation.
Sounds ridiculous? Yes. Obviously these things were designed like that you’d say. They were contrived both qualitatively and quantitatively to give that effect. That is partially true. But I believe that things of beauty are not so much contrived than they are inspired.
Anyway, away from architectural theory, I am learning the art of saying no to myself each time I feel like doing my work. I am such a workaholic I know! But I am also feeling that I am getting older and it’s about time I see some life beyond the computer after recent months. Can you believe it? I am supposed to be a freelancer, but I used to wake up so early to try to emulate business hours and still go beyond those times. I know I used to tell Tim that it’s okay, since I am getting the rewards, but after doing this for three weeks I became so lethargic for two weeks after that. Why hurry hurry, I’ll either drop dead tomorrow or get there when I get there. Nobody peaks at 25 year’s old. Except Henry, maybe…well he peaks and peaks.
Now, socially, things in KL are stabilizing, but I haven’t really found a really nice group of friends. Guess I still miss the past in that respect. But in many ways, I am making ‘peace with the land and myself’ and am not so resentful that I came back. Financially money ain’t coming in as I want it to and at the rate which I’d love it to but that’s the risk I have to take. I know that I’ve told our Londoners I could visit them by year-end, since my brother was going to Sweden, but this sounds impossible now. I no have money now, and I don’t even have the time to give rub downs to earn extra cash!
And although a recent UBS bank has rated KL as the cheapest city among 61 cities surveyed, I still find KL quite a tough city to love. But I know other places that are worse. KL is not ‘pretty’, does not really have a ‘character’, but I think it’s getting there (come back in 100 years’ time), so I don’t think I can call it anywhere close to great.
And since I live at a very ‘out of city’ suburb, it helps to know that I don’t have to live amidst traffic jams, but at the same time makes going into town such a chore! Shhh! I shouldn’t complain!
!!!Until next time!!!
Hope
25 April 2006
“But it's a hopeless situation.”
“That depends,” Oshima says. “Sometimes it is. But irony deepens a person, helps them to mature. It's the entrance to salvation on a higher plane, to a place where you can find a more universal kind of hope.” p. 263.Kafka on the Shore by Haruki Murakami.
...A follow up on the previous post...I think hope is in a sense, a thorough respect for irony. And for that, the respect we owe to 'Life'. The most simple kind of appreciation we can pay to life is to expect and treasure its inconsistencies.
We believe we are reasonable when we think the measure that we sow is the measure which we will receive. But we forget that Life is so much bigger than us, and that sometimes, the same unexpected measure of joy and success which we do not deserve must be balanced by hardships, toil and ultimately the feeling of being lost. The real irony of life is that we don't deserve anything. It's a harsh 'fact' that is not empirical in orientation, but in a spiritual light seems to tie everything together.
And if life can somehow be held consistent, it is in the reality that it is full of ironies, ironies which make life the most beautiful and burdensome experience ever created. Similarly, we cannot make ourselves strong enough to withstand every irony on our own. We simply are not built to last through this life without the ability to be sad, disgusted, rejected nor thoroughly happy, blissful and lastly ignorant. Ignorant of what? Ignorant of hope!
Real hope is about being vulnerable. It is not about the confidence of prayers or conviction. It's about telling yourself I can take it all, I can accept the wholeness of my life, I can accept tomorrow when she comes, because I understand... I understand life, not by words or doctrine....but...that I can love emptiness itself, because all extremities can meet in only one and all at the same time.
That tomorrow's is tomorrow's, and that it is nothing like what I expected it to be...and that hope will welcome me not as a stranger but a long lost friend that I will have in the future. Tomorrow's clouds watch for me, because if in this life, I am always saying goodbye, maybe there will be a time when all which has evaporated from my memory will suddenly shower.
And then I will know, that we were never apart to begin with.
Hope does not need consequences, and it does not need us to deserve it, but it asks us if we are willing to be open to the life it asks us to live.
Now to paint my room yellow.
Phew
20 April 2006
It's 3am in the morning... and I really should be sleeping. But I think this is pertinent.
“I do see things as they are, but in addition to these visible things I see the invisible. It's not for nothing that fantasy exists. It's what makes homes of our houses.” p. 144. The Joke by Milan Kundera
Some of us who are reading this are in a way, and to varying stages, displaced from a place, a time that we were used to. This is not about therapy from Mr. Zhin, but from just hearing about friends talking about some of their problems, and also what they explicitly do not talk about, I think what I am about to say might be of some help.
I believe most of us are at a stage in life, where we encounter a feeling of a complete beginning whether voluntary or otherwise in such freshness, that we find such an obstacle to overcome. Notwithstanding the various phases which we are going through, we are obviously perplexed that the future somehow does not correspond to what our hopes were after leaving university.
A lot of this angst and anxiety is coming from a gut feeling that some plans have turned rather upside down. I think a huge deal of this frustration with isolation or displacement stems from the feeling of not being able to let go from the past and ultimately not being 'open' to the future. We are lost. Lost to what? Will we ever know how to be found if we don't understand what we're lost from?
I have once said that I think life is about saying goodbyes again and again. Superficially one can interpret that as a way of coping with losing friends, people and places. It's a way of dispossessing instead of possessing, especially hard during good times.
But it's also about feeling the pain of something abrupt, something we are cheated from, whether it's not getting a job we want to being fearful of relationships that do not eventuate, even if it felt that it was meant to be.
To be completely cliché, 'home is where' the heart is – how do we make homes out of our houses. Our houses are the realities of each day, the frequent errors and banalities we construct by simply being human. If each moment flies away, every precious vision of a planned future, a friendship, a way of life seems to efface, what home are we left with. The idea of home opens up another phenomenological study, and frankly at 3am, I can't be bothered to go down that path. We equate home to such geographical and physical relationships because our identities, despite the Wonderful World of the Web, is still closely associated with the earth. We are fond of describing ourselves with attributes to places and physical features than to abstract constructions of self.
But seeing, how most of us have left some kind of 'home', how is it possible for us to acquire some sense of security, some compass if we do not rely on other methods of creating homes, that which is beyond the physical – the metaphysical. Could it be fantasy then? A fantasy, pure and honest to the dreams we have of life, That, seems to be the only home that we are not allowed to say goodbye to, since by it, we understand the world.
Fantasy is what we perceive is happening to the world. We already have it. It's up to us to change it and to be open to it when the tide does not go our way. And like all things fantastical, the true meaning of the fantasy we make into a home lies in the gift of 'surprise'. There is always a surprise at every corner in life and the onus, 'on us' is to be transparent and vulnerable to the goodness it brings when it is least expected.
That's why none of us, in spite of the memories they conjure, should truly never regret that which must come to pass. Do not brood over it. A surprise is always on the way... a fantasy that does not tell you to stay put, but beckons you to throw out into the deep... there is always something happy to think about.
Hope this helps some of us.
By the way, see www.flickr.com/photos/zouk11
Phew
13 April 2006
The show is over. Actually it was over since April 2nd. But I had to catch up with lots of work I had not done and make sure all the other matters like 'laundry', a clean floor, watered plants, and my weekends in PD were sorted out. Thus, apologies!!!
The show went well, I thought. Felt sick all the way, but told myself not to think so. Every night was a really different crowd and it is really amazing how you can actually feel their vibes without speaking to them. Never really had a stage fright! But there were nights when everyone felt something wasn't quite right. Must be the curse of the stage.
Anyway, it was certainly a very very good time, and in a way I have never been this happy since returning to Malaysia.
After many revisions to budget and design for my first landscape project, work is actually beginning as we speak. The budget now is RM100,000 and the trees are coming in next week. This is rather exciting, as I do not seem to be bothered about anything else other than the trees.
Otherwise, there are a number of other projects at different stages, but they do not seem as interesting. Will keep images posted. Perhaps I will set up a flickr account. My plans for the short term are getting more and more sleep, doing absolutely nothing on weekday nights and writing and drawing more frivolous things more often. Oh...that and finishing my Murakami book. And making my apartment look 'pretty'.
If Tim is reading, I still have not done String 4. Which is a real shame! I don't know how long I am going to procrastinate this. There's an awful lot of photographs I would like to print, but with work in the way, I do not seem to have the time to devote one full day on it. I used to be glued to Photoshop 24-7. Right now I cannot even manage 1 hour. But I must say, with my 'new' LCD 17” wide screen monitor, things are much more delicate to my 'eyes'.
Zee, my brother has just gone down to Melbourne. (It should've been me) I am so jealous. I told him to take back a piece of rock from each place he visits. Perhaps do some kind of 'installation' in my apartment with it.
All of a sudden, I am having such a fascination with the colour green, grey and orange. It's weird since I am usually such an anally retentive white wall person....must be that Vogue Lifestyle magazine....or the tropical heat.
Anyway, this message does not exempt me from writing to a number of you readers personally, but this is just an entree yeah?
Talk soon
Stabilising
15 March 2006
Dear friends, it's a week to the show, and right now, I am quite exhausted about the show... what with rehearsals and stuff...so this will be short.
Rehearsals will culminate with the actual show on March 22 and goes on until April. Visit www.mtheopera.com if you wish.
To those who replied to my last post, thanks. I know I should really be on a more friendly blogspot like...blogspot.com...but I kind of like the blues here.
I am looking forward to non-rehearsal nights, where I literally get to do absolutely nothing and 8 hours of sleep nightly. I wish I could go back to bed at 10:30pm at least for a week.
Then it's back to projects galore. Actually 5 at the moment, but am already finding it quite difficult. Meanwhile my brother thinks I am glued to the computer, as I seem to be always on it, whenever he sees me at home.
I wish to see the Hen and Pop in London in the next two years perhaps. I am saving up from now on... hope others will go there too...2007/8?
Now can someone remind Hamish that I want a proper email?
And thanks Adam so much for the phone call weeks ago! Was really nice hearing from you. Next post will be on April 3...after the show is done.
I must say though, that the props are good, love the glossy floor and the lighting...should have taken a picture. May want to take a snap at tomorrow’s rehearsal.
Until then, good night.
Stabilising
6 March 2006
Sigh
Sigh
Friends, you are not going to believe me but here it is. I haven't updated this website for ages because my Microsoft Office crashed. Well not really, I was fond of clicking Activate Later in the dialogue box, each time MS Word started, until it didn't let me do it no more. My 50 tries had ended. And I didn't get a pirated version of MS Office.
Which is the story until last night. A friend of mine told me there was a shareware programme just like Word. So I downloaded Open Office from openoffice.org and voila! So hereon follows a looooonnnnggg story...so permit me to blabber okay?
I stopped at ZLG Design in early January. Just couldn't take office life. I couldn't stand the long hours and what they deprived me of. So again, I took the risk. Instead, I joined M The Opera which proves to be a helluva job...think 7-11pm each night and full working day on Saturday. Yup that's how intense it is. But it is a lot of fun. Yes, like all rehearsals it can be such a waste of time sometimes, but I am so much happier doing this then being a slave at an office.
So you must ask what do I do meanwhile. Well I am into real freelance work now. It is rewarding, both as an experience and as a business. I am doing with a friend of mine so we split the fee! I can't tell you how much better I feel about this life arrangment than the normal slog until you drop for someone else situation. Don't get me wrong, I am not really bumming around either. In fact I sleep later nowadays. But the joy rests in the feeling you get that you're doing your own work....very satisfying.
And I am sure many of you feel this way, but now is a long way from those uni days. I cannot help re telling you guys how jaded I have become, and how necessary this journey has been for me. I really admire the courage, enthuasism and shall I call it...the healthy naivety of many of my fellow architects: Henry, Poppy, Alvin, Alistair, Adam, Carina, Shani.....ummm Lachy? I don't know how you've managed to stay so...hmm positive. Whereas for me, it has been a life changing experience. I have learnt to re prioritize my life. Career is taking the second seat now.
And is it mere coincidence or hard work I don't know? But the current arrangement in my life has allowed me to be much happier. I am happy being solo, and content doing small works which do not require a 'real' architect. It doesn't mean I haven't learned anything from those two practices at all. No, I did learn quite a deal, it was a steep learning curve, but now that I know what I want in life, I can make that curve work for me. And just in case you guys may be doubting it, yes.....I am doing real projects...so don't laugh ok?
Yes, this is an unusual path, I do not recommend it, but it is a choice that I have had to make, and that I want to. Also, I am waiting for Henry and Poppy to get famous, so that I can be their co-partners in Henry and Poppy The Moron....(get it?).
Henry and Poppy in London
Are you guys having the time of your life or what? Congratulations Henry for getting the job at Chipperfield. I hope that it makes you happy. Poppy, take your time 'man'!
I am sure you will get there. To both of you, I miss you, and I hope you guys will not get too easily disappointed with practice as I was. I don't regret it, but it's good to have someone to suffer it with. Also, please be patient with yourselves. You have until 50-60 to peak, so don't expect it to happen any time soon. When I do have enough money, I will visit you guys in London. Did I mention to you this job (my job) pays better than an office?
To the dispersed few in Ozzzz-tray----li---ah
Thanks Adam so much...for that phone call. Rather long too. Good to know we can still keep in touch. I miss Italy! Hang in there at Mildura, it will work out after a while. But do not miss the opportunity to work elsewhere either. I wish I was there to tell you that it's ok....life may suck sometimes, but it's ok. Don't regret anything.
AR....still loving Perth? It is still better than Adelaide ok? When i left Adelaide, I felt that I had left all very good friends behind. But seeing how everyone is leaving...I think I'd rather visit London instead....probably see Adam, Lachy, Hen and Pop there in a year or two. So I know life along is tough, but like Adam, just hang on, we've all had to migrate from our cloistered uni lives, and what a long way that has been.
Oi Tim! How's it going in Asia ville...I mean Parkville? If you've read all I've said, just imagine...it is going to hit you very soon...best to be prepared. I would actually suggest that you land yourself out of Melbourne by this time next year. Try China, try Europe, I don't know...just get out.....be a (Poppy says this very well)....freeeee---spirit!
Dear Lachy
Oi! don't tell me you never want to be an architect again. Take a year off, but don't completely dismiss it. Why don't you try working for FOA in London? I need celebrities to look up to, and seeing how I have failed miserably (but it's ok) it wouldn't hurt knowing someone else being in an upcoming firm in London. Why don't you open something on blogpsot.com and tell me of your adventures.
Shani and Hamish at Ecopolis
I have given up on you Hamish. No emails, no SMS. What's the deal. Have you really dumped me? Tell me your plans, tell me your sorrows...what am I not your bosom friend anymore....actually that sounds gross. Are you going overseas soon? How great does it feel being out of Adelaide Uni.
Shani, I heard you just finished one building made of hay/straw-bale out in the country. Please show me the images ok? How long do you intend to stay at Ecopolis?
Are you going to travel soon. Did you mention to me something about moving up to Cairns?
Grace Lin
Dear Grace, where the hell are you now? Who else is at TCL. I assume that you're full time there. Isn't it great getting out of uni? How is the new place at Parkside? How is Mark? And how is everything at home in Magill? Are you planning to go to Taiwan soon....if you are can you come up via KL? We have heaps of food waiting for you.
Nobody in between
27 December 2005
Like you I am pretending… that there are but a number of days ahead to wallow in self pity at the disasters of this year, or the success of having accomplished something at least, to be proud of, in the year we call(ed) 2005.
Save for the fact that a year does mean something in ‘solar’ terms, or where their respective positions and movements are concerned, it appears to me that humans are in need of ‘limits’ in time in order to justify failures or triumphs.
And where summary can (as always) be applied for everything under the sun, what I mean to say was that the next few days, are but the next few days. The truth is there is no 2006. One year just flows into the next, nothing really changes that much or that little.
But what the heck, I am human after all, and this is how 2005 will go down in my memory (constantly evolving, may I add).
January 1 2005. The day I landed in Malaysia. What the HELL!!!!
What am I doing here? What am I still doing here? Perhaps the most ill-considered step I have ever made in life. The ‘unemployable’ Zhin could not grapple with the fact of being unemployed so I took any job I could.
Zhin began in Seksan Design on March 1. That’s after going back to Adelaide for a two week pack up. Can I emphasize this: PAINFUL PAINFUL PAINFUL!
One of the most significant moments of leaving was the last night. Dropped by at Poppy’s and Henry’s. The dark night, but such an acute sense of dawn. She is hurrying me…pack pack pack up and leave this place. Like the skies were robbing me of my few seconds.
And I can still remember the fence…the hedge in front of Poppy’s Entrance. And how it was really very sad. And Poppy and I hugging for one last time… knowing that it will possibly be the very last time ever…And Poppy just couldn’t see me off the next morning. I perfectly understood why… and I don’t think I will mention it here.
And how that last night felt like the last night, the last night of what? It is the longest last night I’ve ever gone through. How does one sleep through 5 years in a night?....
But just in case you guys are really reading this, and I hope you will. These are people who really touched me very deeply over all the years, in no particular order. Thank you all:
Adam Hopkins (for being such a bloke!)
Alistair Ravenscroft (I hate you so much, I kind of miss it)
Henry (no… you’re not just Poppy’s boyfriend…be anal always)
Toula (she’s not reading this, but she makes me laugh)
Shani (for such healing powers)
Grace (for her giggles and good/comfort food trips together)
Tim (you know everything… especially the horror of friendships… I won’ forget!)
Lima ….(the sweeettttsss…..)
Hamish (for funny coffee sessions, sometimes I don’t know how we managed to get along…one wonders)
Poppy (One cannot ever say too much about you! Miss you so much, miss our bitch sessions, and how we were PMS-ing 24-7)
And I so know I am missing heaps of other whom I cannot recall…
But also to those who went to the offshore studio….the best time…the best time I ever had with you guys…especially Adam Hopkins! Miss the road trips man!
So…you must wonder how I am now. Frankly I don’t know. I don’t even know if I am upset anymore. I am quite tired of it. And I am very stuck still. And to put it quite simply, I am still in a mode where I don’t know if I made a big mistake or not, since I am not convinced by either situation.
I do know that the kind of friends I had don’t get easily ‘replaced’, and that it is very hard to find anyone similar to you guys here. So yeah, in many ways life is difficult!
And yet, I know heaps of people are anxious to get out of Adelaide. So far I know of only Poppy, Henry, Lachlan and Sarah (perhaps) who are seriously making a move for it.
I am pretty annoyed that Pop and Hen are not passing through KL. We would have so much fun making racist jokes!
My current job at www.zlg-design.com is pretty mad and I don’t know how long I will last there. I say it’s mad only because I have now realized that career ain’t that important anymore. Seriously….weekends are top priority…. So are nights! Which means to say…like you can guess…I don’t think I am going to get any of these if I am going to stay in this job.
I have learnt the hard lesson not to be a perfectionist anymore. Because people (other people) don’t really care and they only wants to see results, and not your convictions. Convictions are not something you pay someone else for!
I am missing the sunny Adelaide beaches now, and especially (for some reason) drinking at the Belgian or the Exeter! To Poppy and Henry, I am missing our coffee drinks together, and how you’ll let me look like a fool with cream/coffee ‘sludge’ on my lips/face! And the food at EROS… and the lawn sessions where we bitched about the whole world.
Also, the therapy sessions with Grace and Adam (hardly at the same time) at the T-Bar…or the markets. With both of you, my most vivid memory was being on that ‘plinth’ on the top floor of the Hotel in Alberobello, playing cards and listening to Coldplay/Interpol/Ben Harper….whoever. Real ‘bonding’ sessions.
Too many good times to remember all at once. But I am hoping for a reunion one day, and I mean it!
London 2007?
Love you guys and miss you all the way through 2005
Mirror
14 November 2005
Something happened when you looked in the mirror together. You asked it as always, a question, and you asked each other something too; and the space, shadowy but glossy, the further room in which you found yourself, as if on a stage, vibrated with ironies and sentimental admissions.
Hollinghurst,A. 2004. The Line of Beauty, p. 255
Well, before I begin, let me just say I found this book extremely over-rated. It was not bad, but I think I found it unworthy of the Man Booker Prize 2004, in the same way that Vernon God Little was. Sorry, I do not think sympathy for an author’s sexuality (whether persecuted or oppressed for centuries or not) serves as a basis for awarding someone a prize.
Then again, I found this ‘excerpt’ very thought provoking. I am not going to elaborate on it within the context of the novel as it is sufficient enough to become a topic on its own.
What and who do you find in the mirror? For most of us the mirror is a test, a test of our physicality. We have an obsession that mirrors tell us the truth. Whether in doubt or depression do you turn to look to the mirror for an introspective gaze? (I don’t, but maybe you’d like to share your affection with the mirror with me).
Just how much of you is brought to the mirror before it gets reflected? The truth is, we are not what the mirror tells us we are. In fact we make our own mirrors. The mirror does not show us what we do not show it. And if you’re like any other human being the measure that we bring before a mirror gets repeated, augmented and if you’re not careful, assumes a much stronger person that ourselves. How?
You are completely yourself, aside from the mirror. All our facial expressions and thoughts are truly private and ‘real’ because the window of vision is within. The consciousness of a mirror always demands of us an image of ourselves, and not our total selves.
Eyes adjust, faces twitch, thoughts are adjusted before the mirror. The mirror only tells us what we want to see. But all we are doing is acting, acting the person we want to be. And sooner or later, our eyes become conditioned, our vision of ourselves becomes conditioned to the person that you see in the mirror, the actor…the actor within.
I don’t know what the truest face looks like, but I think that we are truly ourselves, not so much in the presence of others but when we look at things that can’t look back.
I am ‘most’ myself, when I gaze into the twilight skies, becoming lost with the birds which encircle the sky… that’s when I know I am fully looking at myself because the sky never lies.
Helping Someone do an Assignment turns critique on Malaysian society
13 October 2005
The rhetoric of self deception and acquired ‘independence’
My Twin Towers is our Twin Towers?
In the year 1998, a ‘great’ year for Malaysian pride, the then Prime Minister Datuk Seri Dr. Mahathir Mohamad launched the opening ceremony for Petronas’ Twin Towers in downtown KL. It was a ‘spectacle’ to behold, not so much for the world (although this is debatable) but for Malaysians themselves, which felt that it was about time that they needed to feel proud of their achievements. The Towers were part of a string of projects which included the completion of the huge Kuala Lumpur International Airport, the longest driverless light train system in the world and other major infrastructure projects. These, the PM believed would send an unmistakable sign to the world, which meant that it would be ultimately to herself, that Malaysia could no longer be overlooked as a rising Asian economy and nation. The Commonwealth Games of 1998, which were held in KL became the focus of all infrastructure and multi billion ringgit projects, not excluding the Twin Towers, in order to savour the eyes of keen foreigners who would allegedly thirst to be impressed if not awestruck by such material achievements in a mere Third World Country. But did the world care anyhow? Did it care to notice?
Perhaps the most paramount phrase in PM Mahathir’s speech that night was his ‘post-justification’ of the two majestic towers before him which took 4-5 years to complete. Curiously, his choice of words almost revealed a possible brief which he may have given to the architects who were to execute his chosen design. He said
“The Twin Towers are to us (Malaysians), what the podium is to the shorty”
I have no recollection if there were thunderous applause immediately after his ‘magna carta’ nor do I remember having read any opinions on his key-phrase in the major dailies days after his speech, though these circumstances are likely attributed to the tough censorship which abounds in Malaysia. Nevertheless, the relative quietness and sheer naivety of the press which did not seize the opportunity to ‘debate’ his speech clearly exposes the inability and lack of cynicism in the general Malaysian populace to call the words of an influential minister to account.
So we are not short after all? Do we need this podium? What podium?
It is painfully obvious that a statement of that proportions begs many questions, that while seem rhetorical, are equally poignant enough to provoke the least of cynical citizens of this country. They are namely; Who are we standing up against? What are we standing up for? Why do we need to make a ‘statement’ in the first place? But the most important question among these is what gives us due reason to call this a Malaysian product or effort? Time and time again, it becomes crystal clear that the crux of all crosses in the mindset of this country is the doubt, indifference and sometimes the appropriated lie about common ownership.
While this may sound simplistic, Malaysians of all walks of life have learned to adapt to a system, both a product of governance and cultural attitudes that encourages a lack of possession. Despite their well funded attempts to portray the lyrical image of “Malaysia, truly Asia”, the reality is that Malaysians in many cases are very disunited. This is most evident in the racial polarisation in schools, the class system within the bureaucracy, the overwhelming censure of any attempt to address racial discrimination and in an individual basis, the presumption that almost anything that solely affects the rights of another Malaysian is not ‘my’ problem. But what has this got to do with a lack of ‘possession’, ‘common ownership’ and the paraphrased key speech of Dr. Mahathir?
Malaysia Boleh?
It squarely points at the self-centredness of a nation that pretends its achievements are somewhat the rights of a particular race or creed and that this belief, which is sometimes the exclusive concern of a small but influential minority can be imposed on the whole populace under the euphemism of unity.
One of the most peculiar aspects of Malaysian society is in its inability to face the ‘reality’ that someone is always doing the job for them. Malaysians take it for granted that their work is often delegated to another since there is always someone to take advantage of. And so we return to the phrase about the Twin Towers – what is painfully obvious and yet is not duly recognised is the ‘foreignness’ of the whole ‘achievement. Somehow, the press never covered or recalled the truth that the Twin Towers project was never an open competition that was ‘open’ to Malaysian architects. On the contrary, the project was specifically briefed to have only a ‘foreign’ architect to design what would become the world’s tallest Twin Towers. Moreover, none of these ‘Malaysian’ masterpieces arrive in its gargantuan proportions and most importantly ‘speed’, without the indispensable effort of cheap labour. And one does not need to look any further for these ‘real’ workers of Malaysian industry other than Indonesia. In addition, the distorted Malaysian psyche presumes that the supply of cheap foreign labour is always a constant, and that there is always someone who can do the work at a lower rate if the Indonesians demand a higher wage. No wonder then, that since the government had deported many Indonesians for illegal entry, many more have arrived from countries such as Vietnam, Nepal, Bangladesh and even mainland China.
Nevertheless, like other paradoxes in Malaysian society, the ‘indispensability’ of cheap foreign labour as construction workers, cleaners, domestic helpers and general workers does not accord them any privilege or sympathy. In opposition, Malaysians generally stigmatise and stereotype these workers, and they cannot decide if they ‘need’ them or ‘despise’ their presence. For instance, one day a headline could read, “Contractors lament over governments decision to deport Indonesian labour” and on the next day, “Ghettoes of Indonesian workers a haven for social ills”. There have been one too many occasions that almost any robbery is automatically blamed on a generic Indonesian worker but these perceptions will change with a new wave of foreign workers coming from Bangladesh and Nepal. While the evidence is quite apocryphal (like many other Malaysian rumours) it was widely held that the reason behind the government’s initial open doors policy towards Indonesian workers was the apparent brotherhood which existed between Muslim countries. I suppose that at that time, the mainly Muslim population in Malaysia felt that there would be very little cultural clashes between peoples of the same faith, in comparison with the Chinese and Indians who have always been viewed suspiciously. It goes without saying that the benefit of hindsight has proven this to be far from the truth.
Once again, the exploited workforce will never feature or even be credited for their contribution to our ‘great’ Malaysian infrastructure and hospitality industry, on the basis that their rightful inclusion within the ambit of the ‘Malaysia Boleh’ (Malaysia Can) spirit would expound the marginality of real Malaysian effort.
Someone’s got to do it! But I am a graduate!
This is only one example of the much denied dependence of Malaysians to other ‘weaker’ neighbours. Unfortunately this denial is constantly affirmed and rehearsed to hypocrisy when, in the interest of diverting attention, a developed western country is accused for being racist on the grounds of a few isolated incidents. In this respect, Malaysia has a long history of finger pointing Australia as a racist white man’s country lost in an Asian region and views her ‘obvious’ geographical neighbours suspiciously with a presumption of inferiority. But to be fair, Malaysia and Singapore have among many common traits, a shocking disdain for her neighbours whom she sits and dines with in convivial ASEAN meetings. Similarly, while enraged about the way coloured people are treated in white territory, Malaysians do little to provide reasonable housing for her foreign labour and furnish them with some if not similar rights enjoyed by the rest of the Malaysian workforce.
DIY for what?... (A Malaysian expression)
This predicament can be further magnified to the scale of the individual Malaysian. Unfortunately, many Malaysians take their relative easy lifestyle for granted. Compared to other developing or developed nations, the average middle class Malaysian (which is quite large) rarely feels the pinch of dining at eateries, paying for tolled expressways, and until recently among the cheapest petrol in the region if not in the world. The average urban professional Malaysian wage earner sends his car for any repairs and a car wash, eats out, shops indiscriminately, has a cheap domestic helper, hires a gardener and cringes at the idea of taking public transport. While the rest of the world might find this ‘averageness’ an enviable state, the consequences of a cheap service industry has produced a very service dependent individual where the “Do-It-Yourself” frame of mind is nearly impossible. Coupled with the general consensus that only a tertiary education can guarantee a career, many educated middle class Malaysians are of the opinion that these lesser menial service tasks are not worthy of them and that their ‘qualified’ and economically stable status excludes them from doing this ‘matter-of-fact’ chores on their own. The so called ‘non-skilled’ positions are deemed to be filled with only non-degree holders who are thus the failed runners in the Malaysian rat race.
Pampered with the ever-present service provided by the domestic helper from Indonesia or the Phillipines, middle class Malaysian children have no need to learn basic ‘living skills’ and the need to be street-wise in the face of a real tough world beyond her shores if not immediately in their own neighbourhoods if not for the low cost of living. Thus, while in many areas, Malaysians are becoming more capable of acquiring skills and know-how, which had hitherto been referred to other wealthier countries, the average, educated Malaysian is becoming less independent, less adventurous and evidently less all-rounded. There is always an assumption that someone else can do it for them not only at a cheaper rate but without a hassle. This is reflected in the persistence that everything of importance to him should be within reach of his 2.0 litre Sedan, and furthermore at least 3 minutes walking distance from the car. Not surprisingly, many Malaysians cannot walk the distance.
Ignorance is Bliss – Vision 2020 in 15 years’ time?
Due to the ‘enviable’ wealth of the middle class, the cheap services which abound and the government’s nanny-like administration from protection of major companies (with unashamed political connections) against foreign competition through subsidies and taxes to moral policing, we have evolved into citizens who are less risk takers, despite our education, to risk shirkers.
Over the greater scheme of things, these issues hardly stir the imaginations of the rakyat (the citizens of Malaysia). And like her arch-rival down south, the economic prosperity and growth enjoyed by the populace will continue to lull her into a slumber of false ‘security’ both economically and socially. Of course, there are many exceptions to this perception, and there are not few Malaysians who concur that a myriad of weaknesses continue to plague a society which is infatuated with her economic well being, although this is hardly acknowledged by the powers- that- be who thrive in ignorance. While we, the concerned few, lament at the gross self denial which is triumphantly promoted from the top, many are optimistic that eventually more Malaysians will come to recognise the price of her apparent progress and the political apparatus which pretends that such problems are not only non-issues but indicate the ‘improved’ quality of life of the rakyat.
Even a little scepticism in what constitutes a ‘Malaysian’ product and the need to question what is disguised as a national agenda would help to make Malaysians face up to their distorted image of themselves as wholly independent pioneers of the Malaysian Renaissance. Then, maybe we would be less worried about when Vision 2020 would be realised, but on what constitutes a developed nation and how can we possibly get there with a fraction if not none of the narcissism which the State flatters us with now.
The art of representation
7-10 October 2005
It’s been quite a hectic week. I have just submitted (that was yesterday) an entry for the Chicago Prize 2005 (see www.chicagoarchitecturalclub.org ). It was a 36’ x 24’ piece of artwork (why can’t Americans just say A1, instead of getting me to print something ‘slightly’ larger). I was thinking of publishing it here, but then I thought, I’d better wait until the submission deadline ends before I do that. At the same time, it was dad’s big week. In fact his stenting procedure just ended today. In total it was about 2 hours in length; hours spent standing by a door to the radiology deparment at SJMC (if you’re from KL, you would know where this is).
So it’s been a *sigh*, *yawn*,*grrrr*, phhhheeewww… week.
Also, I’ve been a Zouk KL virgin until last night. My two cents’ worth are it is really nothing great! In fact I was quite disappointed. And just then, I thought of the Belgian Beer Bar on Rundle St (and while these two places are totally dissimilar, I’d like to engage in some nostalgia!)
‘And’ I am so totally terrified of the idea that I have nothing to write here, and that people aren’t bothered to tell me what to write about, so I am just going to talk about representations in the most unscholarly way…so pardon me please.
The need to rediscover representation
First, I thought this site was Kool! www.corpsebridemovie.warnerbros.com
Then I thought of Leunig.
Then I thought of Hundertwasser.
Then I thought of illustrations on the Tale of Genji.
Then I thought of Mughal Paintings.
Then I thought of all those paintings and representation which were truly ‘representational’.
What do I mean? Well, think about representations in the artistic sense. Representation can be likened to an object or an idea, or a score whose ‘essence’ is almost instantaneously related to a prototype or its true construction (as in the tangible), so well ‘created’ that it can almost be interchangeable. By interchangeable I am not concluding that the appreciation of these two elements (the representation which is not a copy and the prototype) are rendered useless or irrelevant. These two ‘ends’ are somewhat almost utterly dependent that the viewer is drawn into a kind of memory inertia; that the representation evokes the represented and vice versa.
And yet, even with its peculiar interchangeability these two are separate, and the replication (or ‘substitution’) of the ‘true’ is and should never be the aim of the representation. It is utterly pointless to insist that a representation needs to usurp the true qualities of the ‘true’ in its totality. In fact when such situations occur, the viewer is often left with a nagging suspicion that the legibility of the representation is thwarted by its own assumption of being the true of the true; and in extremis; the truer of the true. Moreover, its arrogance is clearly manifested by its self-elevation to an idol instead of an icon (see Jean Luc Marion’s book; “Crossing the Visible). Representations are a window to a ‘some thing else’ (do your homework and read Gavin’s website) and if that ‘else’ appreciation is not maintained than what you have is non-distance, the reverse of communication ( which really means none or masturbation ), the end of depth and in truth, the real end of the REAL.
In other words (if that was not), the representation ultimately denies the represented when it denies itself. These two are never the same.
Which brings me to the “Then I thought…” phrases. What draws us to these representations of humanity, our civilization, our ways of dwelling in the ‘real’ world? In all the mentioned examples, the viewpoint is not an origin by which true physical distances or proportions are projected from. Rather the view re-presents a scene as contemplated through an assortments of images seen through the eye but measured based on the distances of meaning. In effect, they depart if not eschew the indulgence of seamless ‘literal’ representation.
Nevertheless, the ‘distorted’ and fantastical imagery do not deter us from absorbing them as ‘representing’ something very real indeed. We do not doubt, that they conjure real places and real imagery not despite but because of its intentionally careful ‘erroneous’ or far-fetched constructions.
While we clearly depend on our eyes to provide us with clear vision to navigate this world, the ‘objectivity’ of vision rarely becomes our sole index for our whole vision of the world. Evidently we also depend on our other senses; olfactory, taste, touch and auditory, but ultimately it is the mind which produces an ‘image’ (not solely visual). I have intentionally substituted brain for ‘mind’, because the discussion is less about the scientific veracity, but more on the psychological appreciation of the world.
There is no doubt that when we dream, we experience emotion, sight, sound, smell, touch and taste. Yet, like when we are awake, these experiences are a unity of various senses. The difference is that in our dreams the mind is more attentive to the vision it wants to see rather than what is ‘actually’ being observed at the moment. The mind becomes both actor and audience as it absorbs the sensations both tangible and intangible from the repository of experience. It is here where the mind is more acute because it indulges in visions that truly haunt a person, a true image of the mind seeing the world through the senses, against the boredom of the mind as mere processor of phenomena which stimulate the senses.
‘Truth’, as that which the mind desires to perceive is not an enemy of objective vision but an acknowledgement of the multifaceted production of images in the mind to understand his surroundings. In this ‘world’ of image making, the eye of the mind experiences things beyond a single scene, sound, touch, taste and smell. It also remembers, justifies, compares and anticipates them. It sees what may have preceded it, or what a scene could become and that which conceals or is being concealed.
The evidence of pscycho-imagery is most obvious in language, which not surprisingly is the index of meaning. The use of metaphor itself testifies to the inseparable kinship between mind and sense. A vision is compared or likened to another, and sometimes appropriated across various senses. For instance, we do not render it absurd if someone says they “see what they hear”, or that something looks good when they believe what they see can taste good.
What can this mean for the realm of architecture? It calls for a reevaluation of building as mere sight or spectacle. It questions the need for the dependence of quantitative distance as the sole measure for the appreciation of architecture. No where is this one- eyed true vision more apparent than in the way we represent architecture. In this regard, the most significant lie about architecture is being produced via the technological prowess afforded to us in digital modeling/visual production.
Sometimes I wonder whether the glossiness of contemporary architecture began from the actual consideration of material attributes or the inability of digital rendering programs to compute otherwise. The advent of the computer as producer of architecture is here (do not be fooled that it will come tomorrow, the present is horrifying enough). The Dutch school is the most ‘progressive’ in this front, utilizing computers for every angle of architectural representation.
That computers are able to assist the production of drawings and images necessary to the construction of architecture is laudable. One cannot deny the speed and computational possibilities computer programs afford us an advantage over our predecessors which had to work manually. The question is, have these updates in technology allowed us to create more beautiful architecture than before? While beauty is certainly in decline, as it is less desired and less attainable these days, one can be certain that the complexities and structural marvels of buildings of old seem to still outshine anything which Frank Gehry can produce with 3d studio max.
The alleged advantage of ‘3d interactive walkthrough’ which were to enhance variety and create hitherto unimaginable spaces once impossible due to the 2d restrictions of plan, elevation and section have yet to be proven. Instead we have more titanium and alucobond claddings multiplied ad infinitum!
In addition, the photomontages of today, which combine the marvels of 3d studio max and Photoshop are nearing exhaustion as they inch towards excessive photorealism. It seems to me that the closer the image ‘tries’ to resemble reality the more artificial it appears to be, not unlike a pendant light in the night sky pretending to be small or high enough to be accepted as a star.
While there is no point in discussing how it got to this state, the truth is that the symbiotic relationship between design and representation can plunge architecture into even worse levels of banality. These two elements feed off each other in a vicious cycle and not long after the way buildings are designed will be benchmarked by the way they were or should be represented.
But what alternative do we have? Do you remember having dreams or a nostalgia for those cartoons and animation of yesteryear? No, surely you must think. But why not? Why not build a world like in Leunig or Tim Burton’s animations or Hundertwasser? The most common answer would be because the world is not like that.
Because none of these visions are ‘true’ as far as the post Renaissance perspectival universe is concerned. They do not espouse a one viewpoint world but a world of many eyes, many angles of vision. Like in Mughal paintings, walls are depicted with two sides simultaneously; houses exposed internally and externally; and views depicted without clear reference to that single position from where and whence it is derived from. And perhaps this vision is the most objective of all since it has such a celestial and all encompassing eye on it. Only God knows that which is hidden from our eye, and so this assemblage of architectural and landscape elements serves to inquire the truth of the ‘whole’ rather than the specific.
After all our experience of the built environment is rarely static unless we are awestruck by the one defining moment of architectural epiphany. We walk by walls and yet we hear an echo of footsteps; we walk through passageways yet guess on what lurks behind those doors; we see parapets and rooflines but still ponder what goes on below them.
Evidently, there is no proof that these sometimes medieval ‘photomontages’ influenced the way buildings were designed. The crux of the argument is that it can be, and since they were once seen as ways to represent architecture, the appreciation of such techniques may yield better results in the way we design places as a conglomeration of images. Somehow, this development seems to be occurring more frequently in Landscape Architecture than architecture. One of the reasons could be that the appreciation of ‘Landscape’ cannot be seen to escape from the embodiment of all senses and meanings as constituting a wholesome experience whether by navigation or static perception. The work of the late Yves Brunier displays these visions, perhaps its high time we did too.
Sigur Ros vs. Sigur Ros?
29 September 2005
Oooh, have you heard Takk yet?
What thinkest Thou?
I must admit that I am still trying to absorb the fairy tale like qualities in Takk. Actually, I just heard an interview with them by some American Radio station about their new album. As usual, it was difficult to persuade them to share or elaborate on themselves or their album. Apparently, they were very tired after ( ) (but Zhin we know that!), and almost couldn’t be stuffed trying to go into studio to record Takk songs. If any of you have been downloading their live music on www.sigur-ros.co.uk , you’d be familiar with some of the music already played before Takk was nearly released. Songs like Milano and Gong, go back to 2002/03 if I am not mistaken. Thus, I can’t really say that it was refreshing hearing it again on Takk.
As you can see, I can’t make up my mind on what Takk means to me. Both Agaetis Byrjun and ( ) were and still are dear to me precisely due to its melancholy …the clouds are watching… ambience, which I do not find (or have not) in Takk. I am not going to say that I am upset about Takk being not ‘upsetting’ enough the right way, I think it just takes time.
And I am still unemployed.
And I am still happy
And I am still broke.
And I hear Alistair Ravenscroft is moving to my timeline, that Adam Hopkins is going to or is already in Mildura and that some of you are still happily in full or part-time employment.
To both Adam and Alistair, please tell me how it feels to leave Adelaide. Is it horrible, is the world cruel, but isn’t it just wonderful at the same time?
Tell me how the clouds look like where you’re at.
Can someone send me an email, requesting me to write something interesting on this spot rather than having me blabber about everything personal?
Please send queries/requests to zouk11@yahoo.com
…the clouds are watching…
After all of this
20 September 2005
It is morning again. A whole week spent doing an architectural competition; now I know how much I have aged since getting out of school. I did my first all-night vigil for the year on Sunday night. It seems to me the last time I ever used my brains that intensely was at Final Project. It is funny how I never felt the same when I was working, and yet was paid to be so.
It is morning again. And like any other person, it is a time to chart the day, to feel like you are in control of tomorrow; to breathe a plan into your life.
It is morning again; but soon the noon sun is up and you know that breath has no plan with it, it just comes. So whether in sickness or in health you know that IT is coming, it is always coming.
It is morning again, and I feel like maybe today IS the day, the day I am supposed to do that something else, that something that I have ignored all this while. But what could that be?
Today, I hope it is morning again for that someone. Today, I hope that he will wake up feeling that an impending loss is something that you should not be frightened of. This is what life is… to be loved fully is to have it lost to you not by a plan, but by uncontrolled breaths.
Music and words are from death, escorting us to somewhere which cannot be known for now, since when we reach there, we would know of nothing else.
It is worth forgetting, forgiving, risking, loving and dying to get there. That place is what we hope to achieve by living here.
Pa, be not afraid.
Self-sufficient housing, maybe not
19 September 2005
The darn competition I entered, what was wrong with me?
This has/will be moved to the Thesaurus page.
The cold wind blowing from darkness to darkness
15 September 2005
A day after my birthday…
Like an unannounced, unwelcome guest the wind…she is blowing, and she is rushing, rushing and riding on dreams from afar.
And here I am typing keys that will not make a difference, other than tell you of a dream, a real dream I am having…the here and now.
And what do I see?
I see the clouds rearranging, sailing on horizons, negotiating the undulations between sky and land, between the divine and the worldly… I see darkness enveloping darkness.
And I in a cocoon, where outside is in, and inside is eternity.
Around me, inside me, the night sky at 3 o clock in the morning. And the sun does not know.
In the house which Saidah built
13 September 2005
At my first rehearsal of ‘M’, the angel whispered
On glasses of red I saw you,
In folds of paint,
Unmasking the light of darkness,
The dawn reaches an end,
When all……….
In Saidah’s house, I saw this… but I saw that too,
And the spies which travail behind the skies, are still watching.
Lost in between both nothings
12 September 2005
There is a strange thing about losing one’s job, or maybe not losing it but taking the risk of stopping a ‘career’ possibly at the worst time. You just, don’t know what to do?!!
Don’t get me wrong, the current situation does not have me doing nothing. In many ways I have not been this busy since I got back from Australia. I am in three different performing groups (music and opera), doing 4 competitions until the end of the year and haven’t yet found a job. I am procrastinating my next job search until November due to circumstances within my family.
But I am much happier now than when I was working. I am doing the things I have wanted to do, and it keeps each day going.
However, I am most concerned about the lack of writing which has come on to this website in recent weeks. The sudden lack of inspiration is quite worrisome, as I thought I would have plenty of time to write when I terminated my employment.
I haven’t done this year’s string installation, which I have always done with Tim. This year, I will have to do it solo. I will post it though.
Since there is nothing ‘intellectual’ enough to post this time, the ‘little things’ section will feature old stuff. I will continue to blabber in this page though.
As usual, I am still thinking of that elusive practice ‘we’ will be setting up in the future, and how we’ll be so good, we wouldn’t even care if people like us or not! Also, it would have to be somewhere ‘different’ like Rekjavik or in the middle of the Scottish Highlands, or near the Mulu Caves of Sarawak.
I intend to spend the next few months staring at the skies, watching clouds watching us, watching rocks watching us, watching the whole world watching me. In the short term I intend to write something entitled Metaphysics in the Tropics. It’s one of those vague themes which I like writing about. Actually, I am not so sure whether it should be essays, poetry or photographs. Tim, if I haven’t told you yet, I am thinking of selling some of our photos for a lot of money, as I reckon we’d get quite a lot for some of them in Malaysia. Or maybe it’s my way of saying, I need the money, since I am jobless.
Fortunately, I am having more fun doing my competition (which haha is about self-sufficient housing). As you can expect, I am slowly drifting away from the project brief. Being in Adelaide Uni made me so cynical about sustainable design, people usually don’t understand how I am so angry once anyone mentions ‘ESD’ to me. Has anyone done any ESD yet?
As to how I am feeling now?
I am happy that I can do whatever I want, and as much as I worry about how suspended I am in the air, I relish the fact that nothing is certain at the moment.
Being lost in being found?
Inertia
1 Sept 2005
Dear friends,
Things have been so in between! It took a few days for it to finally hit me. The “I quit my job” scenario landed safely last week. And I suppose it is quite natural for me to feel completely lost, wondering when I am going to receive my next pay cheque?
Last Thursday, my father was admitted to hospital due to internal bleeding which occurred near the brain due to a fall in the middle of the night. After doing some tests and scans we also found out that some arteries leading to his left brain were clogged (about 80 %). We now have to figure out which method we are going to choose to rectify this problem. So, yes the whole week has been completely emotionally and mentally draining.
While he has been discharged from the hospital, we (the family) are still keeping a close watch on his health, which is very tiresome and understandably it has caused many yellings and outbursts in both speech and stares.
The bottom line is I am tired and jobless. But I am also free and much happier then when I was working for “ “ (let’s leave it for now).
… but here it is, this week’s post:
This time things will be a bit more personal. Perhaps, this might help others who may think of jumping off their boat. So why did I do it?
If you had the privilege of knowing it, my journey in practice albeit shortly was not entirely smooth. Then again, it is not supposed to be, since without suffering there can be no progress.
On top of the fact that I think my boss had always been suspicious of me (for some reason), I also realized that I was not performing to the standard that he wanted me to. And yes, this is absolutely partly my fault as well.
But you see, I didn’t see the point! I did not understand how things in photoshop could get pretty or should be prettier if they were already ugly in my eyes. I did not know that plans can only be read one way, especially when they are not drawn properly by the architect. In fact, I just did not know that my boss had no tolerance for slowness when he had very ill quipped drawings where you could not tell what levels he was drawing on, or based on which ‘latest’ drawing.
I just did not know that your superiors can make mistakes which you have to pay for, especially because you did not make them. I also never knew that small companies demand that you are surveyed constantly like in an Orwellian utopia. I did not know that before I started my ‘last’ job, it was insubordinate to have private conversations and at least have some privacy from the reflection of your superior’s stares on 12mm thk glazing!
That being said, I did quit my job! And I felt really awful about it 3 days later. The difference is I did not think it was the worst mistake I have done in my whole life. On February 22nd, the day I arrived in Malaysia this year, I believed that it was the most terrible move I have ever considered. I believed it for many months, but now I have had the benefit of experiencing the depression that decision had effected. So right now, going back to Adelaide, seems to me, like a step back.
But here’s the best part. I am going to delay my entry into practice by 6 months or maybe until mid next year. I will however, try to make it to Australia (Adelaide and Melbourne) in late 2006. But I think Henry and Poppy would be in the motherland by then. Damn those Brit passport holders!
I am going to make these next months count! How? By doing that something else that architecture is about. Life is not totally about architecture, although architecture is about life ‘totally’. I will be part-timing at art galleries, teaching perhaps, drama, singing and other ‘arty-farty or fartsee’ related events.
Just so I know.
Just so I know I tried when I could. To do something else. To know that you could be wrong. To know that something else could be fulfilling or a bad move. To know that confidence is not necessarily the best thing on earth.
So I am not advocating that my leap is really making me feel good. But there’s one thing which I am proud of… that I wasn’t going to feel nice and comfy in my ‘career path’ straight out of uni. As if we are all going to leap into this wide and glorious path to architectural sainthood, by staying in practice the moment we held that piece of paper which was entitled BARCH!
I do not buy the ‘dream’ that the only way to have a career or a vocation or a calling is that you stay where you’re at forever! I do not believe you can only be a good architect in your 50’s if you have devoted 30 years of your life slaving AutoCad necessities for egotistical demigods in their air conditioned cabinets!
I think the ‘only way’ to understand architecture is by living it, living it outside the profession. Oh and I also don’t think architecture is what the RAIA or PAM (Malaysia) says it is. Professional bodies are meant to put limits on what you can think or do. That is why they are elite!
Thus, jump if you want to, but don’t forget that if you don’t think you can cope with being suspended in the air by a greater ideal which might force you to feel really unconfident, you are not ready or not meant to quit where you’re at.
Quitting is not always about running away. It’s about losing something to get something better. And in this case, it is the HARD WAY.
Which is another way of saying,
“So typically Zhin”.
And now, because I may have promised some friends an email here goes:
Thanks for the support some of you have shown me. It was a tough decision to make, but I am somewhat proud of what I did. It took a lot of guts to break away from the mindset of uni-practice-instant stardom. I got fed up and I wanted to jump.
So to those, who are fanatic architects as I am, I shall just say that I now want to know what architecture is about and not what it ‘is’ all the time. I hope you get my drift. All of this is hard to explain, but you know the knowledge one gets with travel and how it changes your perspectives on things. Well that’s what I want for now.
The relief is, I can stop pretending that I like photoshop cartoon graphics for a while. It is so not funny working with this house style, sometimes I did not know whether I should feel ashamed or that I did not have the aptitude to imagine hopping kids and true blue swimming pools for perspectives.
Lima, as I have said, I miss bubble tea with you, especially the feeling I get when I realize how awful and fulfilling each of them tasted. Adam, hang on to Mildura if you think that is where your calling is, and that Blucher is not worth it.
Lachy, I admire you for how long you have lasted at DASH. I would have begged for my eyes to be sliced into half (like eggs) if I were working there. Seriously son, you deserve better. And I don’t think they let you imagine your 3d max saturated universe there, as you are good at it. My advice, dear pal is, seek greener pastures, move to Melbourne.
AR is possibly still enjoying Mulloway, so I will shut up about that. I wish Chris could read this, so please pass this web address to him.
Grace, Andrew, Chris, Albert... practice awaits you. In spite of having quit my job, I have learnt quite a lot. Practice ain’t that bad at all… but always stay true to what you want in life, and also what is possible.
Two last things:
1. I know so much more about Landscape now and more than I would have known if stayed at uni for one more year
2. I miss FORM Z can you believe it?
This is the least intellectually stimulating post I have written in weeks, so I apologise deeply. In between now and the next time, I will be looking forward to SIGUR ROS’ new album Glossoli, which is out on September 12th. Guess whose birthday is on the 14th?
The great plunge
22 August 2005
To my dear friends,
Zhin has done something quite different (last week). Which means, I will either have more time here, or there will be ‘nothing’ to talk about for quite a while.
So here am I again. It feels like starting from point zero. How am I feeling? A mixture of doubt, self-defeat and just pure relief. And maybe the most difficult thing to do now is to put it into words; if it were possible at all!
The last 6 months, have indeed been trying. The return to Malaysia, the instantaneous transition between arriving at the airport and commencing my employment was a bit too much.
I supposed that was why everything I wrote sounded depressing to a lot of us, maybe it’s because there wasn’t enough room to say something.
It didn’t help that not until lately I’ve finally had a few friends whom I can ‘relatively’ relate to. I still feel really ‘in between’ the past which I know, and the future, which is constantly drifting away like a hide and seek game.
Maybe is takes a few days before I can say something worth thinking about. After all this is my blogspot! Tim has yet to contribute anything here so, Tim I know life is busy but when you can, I’d like to hear someone beyond myself.
Somewhere in this webpage, maybe under ‘small things’ I wrote, “Could August 31 be the last day?”
I supposed the answer is quite obvious now!
“With effect from 22 August 2005, I wish to tender my resignation due to personal circumstances”…
Time is beginning again,
This day, today, tomorrow,
Is different again, because of the plunge,
The great plunge,
Into unemployment!
Leap Zhin, leap!
Making life into art
14 August 2005
A little over a week ago, I finished reading a book, which I have had for quite some time. I won it as a prize in a quiz when I was in Adelaide. I have no clear reason for procrastinating my reading it earlier. The title; “Damascus Gate” struck me as religious fiction, and even back then, when there was no “Da Vinci Code’ I dismissed it with conviction that it was some parachute religious story with a few left-wing assumptions of right wingers and if you know me, I can babble about this till kingdom come.
Nevertheless (I always use this word), it proved to be quite an interesting piece of fiction, not so much for its ‘truth’ but for the dilemmas, which every human being goes through. Surprisingly, even the most secular of ambitions are somewhat religious in appearance and persuasion. I am not very good in doing reviews and I will not attempt to avail myself as an art or literary critic in this ‘forum’. There were a couple of poignant phrases in this book that I think has made it into one of those shelves of quotations that I am so fond of (they are not many) to be shown off to others when the time comes. But this is not all about raping or plagiarising some intelligent remark in a novel. I am actually going to talk about it. So here goes…
As some of you know, I have a bad habit of procrastinating things. Initially, I needed to have the abovementioned book next to me, to quote this important phrase word for word. I am in Port Dickson for the second weekend, and I have still managed to forget to take it with me. So I am going to paraphrase.
“The whole idea of the 20th century was to make life into art…”
I was very disturbed by this phrase. As a small preface and a disclaimer, I am going to make a whole long list of confessions. I am not going to outdo Aristotle or Thomas Aquinas in their treatises about beauty and art. I am not even going to back my arguments up with someone else I can quote from. So if you (the reader) think that this mini essay is going to convince you of something very sublime, I am afraid you will be very disappointed.
As an architect, I have often been bastardized, raped and been dumped by different waves of doctrines, styles and technologies. I think it is a necessary suffering each designer has to go through. Needless to say, none of them are ‘right’ and sometimes the whole irony of 20th century architectural theory is that the more and more we are indoctrinated with the contemporary understanding of aesthetics away from outdated notions of beauty and ‘good’ form, the more religious these arguments seem to be. By religious, I mean to say that they are defended with such ‘supernatural’ conviction, which is quite worrisome, since most of the ideals of Modernism and Post-Modernism (in cognito) are quite opposed to any resemblance with old-fashioned ideas like tradition, beauty and truth.
And just somehow, one of the few items which did get on the checklist on Modernity’s agenda was honesty. The irony of all of this, is that this honesty displayed possibly the worst aspects of humanity. The ‘new’ honesty of the new order, was a lie insomuch that it was opposed (in a very large scale) to what we consider to be the ethical or moral good.
So how did we try to make life into art? We tried to design life itself! The evidence is everywhere. We conceived the 20th century unlike any other. It was to become a utopian civilisation. I think this is where things started going wrong. We lamented the inequalities and regressive old Christian order of the Kingdom of God, since we thought we could make one here. Why wait for God, or some external reality, when WE can make it happen?
Did it not struck you after a while, listening to lectures and designers speaks like fascists. A chair has to be there, and only this colour is allowed? Did you forget about the phrase environmental determinism? Design a whole institution, a whole system, and the architecture will make people change the way you want it to? Or the Archigram or Futurist cities, of how people WILL live in the future! The reason why I will not forget it, is that it is in me. Everything needs to be in the RIGHT order, the one TRUE way the ONLY way that architecture can make the change we all need. I personally fall into this trap each time, and I think it is iconic of every architecture student in the 20th or 21st century.
But let us not cease our inquisition. What about the regimes which were supposed to bring the social change that we so desperately needed? I don’t know if you have the imagination to believe it as much as I do, but I have always thought liberation does not come about without it being a euphemism for the design or redesigning of societies.
What else could you call Hitler’s belief in creating a whole new kingdom of white people only to the exclusion of all others? Is it not design? - To tell people who they are and who they are not? To massacre entire peoples or ethnicities for the purpose of creating ‘purity’, a perfect civilisation, the way we want it to be, at a time we want it! While the debate still goes on as to the veracity of Pope Pius XII’s compassion or sympathy to the persecuted Jews of Europe, I would still insist that he had a number of truly poignant remarks that are relevant to this post.
Among them, and very little is heard of it, is his reason for opposing the Nazi regime sweeping through Europe. While the majority of us are most familiar with equating Nazi atrocities with the Jewish Holocaust, the truth is that it extends much further than a particular ethnicity or allegiance. The Nazis and principally every major social upheaval in the 20th century world was about a social ‘clean-up’, discarding the undesirable elements, human or otherwise from interfering with a utopian kingdom.
In this regards, Pius XII did solemnly comment, woe to those who think that they can create a superior race by excluding the lives of others, which is essentially against Christian morality (needless to say). I think this statement encompasses a far greater problem with utopian ism than limiting it to a specific condition of the persecutor and the persecuted. Literally every single person has the ability to be an overzealous puritan to the exclusion of all else. We saw it in the Soviet Union, in China , in the United States (by how it designs wars) and even in Israel.
So what does this have to do with art? Because art as we understand it today is far removed from their meanings in our pre-modern societies. I do not always like the word romanticism, but to pretend we are not somewhat lost, is not only arrogant but far removed from ‘honesty’. Art is now something that is utterly created. But this ‘creation’ is unlike that of the past, it is created solely by us, it proceeds from us as point of origin. John Taverner (a living British composer) once commented that it was insane to any of the pre-Modern artisans that art was not divinely inspired. In a sense, art was and fortunately in some parts of the world today, a manifestation beyond the individual both in time and space. Perhaps this is why, art and tradition could not be conceived in mutual exclusion, since its purpose was somewhat a transmission, from the past to the future, or from something invisible to the visible. Of course, art is never ‘a’ thing, but many things to many people. The argument here is not so much on what it must be, but what art has become.
I believe art in the 20th century (which is not over yet), has become less of a revelatory experience. It certainly has become less divinely inspired. In fact, most artistic works in the contemporary age deliberately ignore if not defiantly oppose ideas such as beauty, truth, metaphysics, goodness, charity and many others. I have yet to recall any ‘Modern’ work of art which is hinged upon inspiration, not from other industrial objects but from nature itself.
We have gradually shut the door to the ‘beyond’ since we believe too profoundly on the indispensability of us to ourselves.
It seems rather ridiculous for many of us to believe God is dead. As Kirkegaard said, if God really exists, it would be impossible to prove that He is. Similarly, if he did not, it would be futile to prove He was. At a human level, I have never thought highly of the novelty that ‘God is dead’. I believe it was rather silly that it took so many centuries to finally believe that He was or is not there. Humans have always had the capability to disbelieve in many things, so there is nothing shocking about atheism. Once, a recent acquaintance of mind (who had a couple of beers by then) asked me, as I was reading a book on philosophy, “Does the book tell us we are here?” While I did not want to miss the chance to reply to his question, I left his question unanswered, as I did not think he would be too interested in my answer.
The question, was to me, so easily answered with another and another. I was going to ask him, “What is ‘we’? What is ‘are? And what is ‘here’?” I became annoyed that such questions are usually posed in a rhetorical way. While they are truly valid, it always occurs to me that even the basis of this question bypasses a whole nagging line of questions out of logical consequence, such as, “How do we know, we are we, and that existence is what we think it is, or what is this thing we call life anyway?” I suppose, that was why those three-fold counter questions were never voiced out. It would not be a discussion, but a confrontation of beliefs, which sometimes work beyond the rational.
“Why are we here?” to me stems not out of curiosity but a subconscious assumption that we are alone. It is no surprise that, it is always a rhetorical question. Art in the 20th century is in many ways so divorced from the past or the familiar, or anywhere close to primordially because it pretends to loneliness. There can be no massive social and artistic revolution without a redefinition of origins. A great deal of the 20th century was spent ‘restoring’ our notions of the pure and the original, artificially. We believed in redefining a canvas because we decided perhaps, that either God was too slow to do it, or because He does not exist, we might as well work on it since other centuries have not.
Life turns into art, when we use its terms disguised under our aesthetic convictions to control. As the old adage goes, art is about life and not the other way around. A blank canvas is certainly not possible without the expulsion of the other. We are only what we are in relation to an other. For some it is God, for others, it is another other. But to pretend to loneliness is among the most serious crimes of humanity. And life loses its beauty in loneliness, because life, death and art are communicative. They tell us about something else. Beauty tells us about something else. True (and I am not ashamed of using this word, so disagree with me) beauty is relative because it is essentially communicative and iconic (of other worlds, persons, things).
It is probably for this reason, that the ancient world, despite its superstitions and religiosity were less burdened with utopian upheavals. All ancient faiths speak about metaphysics and the majority of them elaborate on life after death. The idea of creating something perfect on this side of the world(s) has always been to many ancient religions a dangerous issue. Perhaps it is the mere wisdom of the ancients that we can get things so wrong all the time.
This essay has no prescribed answers or questions. It is merely scratching the surface when it comes to comparing the different conceptions of art and the circumstances in which they survive, namely the 20th century. Hence, it is written in the hope that many of us would at least doubt the certainties of everything, especially art which has such a lofty ideal(s). While we can always dispute on aesthetical differences, our history should at least shed some light on the fragility of humanity as artist of the highest order. Art was meant to serve us, to communicate the invisible, to be delighted in, but never to govern, to destroy lives directly in the service of aesthetical value.
Our canvas is never blank. But art can be.
.
The ‘I’ in architectural narcissism
7th of August 2005
I have often wondered, in the past month, what deserves to be ‘written’ on this page. I suppose I have laboured in trying to find something argumentative or intellectually engaging a bit too much. On the contrary, perhaps the most insightful remarks come from an accidental discovery, an irruption from somewhere else.
Like my friend Gavin (see eavesdrop on Gavin), I would like to talk about “Something Else” one day, although I find myself severely lacking in the vocabulary to articulate on it for more than a few sentences. Well, if he is reading this, perhaps he might disagree… but that “Something Else” has been quite a recluse for the past month.
Thus, I shall just elaborate on an issue which comes close to my heart, especially since starting on my ‘career path’ this year. I should not miss this opportunity to announce my most sublime hatred for that word. I think the word ‘vocation’ is closer to something one feels passionate about.
If you have also begun on your journey of being a designer, you might find this article interesting. I am talking about the EGO in everything that we do. Of course, you are allowed to vehemently disagree with me.
Have you noticed how designers, despite being arguably the most opinionated people in the world, are often incredibly intolerant? I think it is inherent in the heart of every designer to think he or she is doing the ‘right’ thing. But I have had the privilege too many times to confess that designers are among the most horrible people to have a disagreement with.
Surely, one has to be convinced of one’s (can we say this) aesthetic or even ethical conscience in whatever you ‘create’ or innovate. Equally, I do not think it is too difficult to believe that one, despite good intentions can be quite mistaken when executing design decisions. Is it not a subjective exercise?
Here is a typical scenario which I would like to share with the reader. Someone says to me that they like it this way. I say yes, I understand where you’re coming from, but I am not convinced because of this, this, and that. However, I respect your opinion.
Immediately, the person in question goes into a tantrum. Why are you challenging my authority? What are you trying to say? Or this one … you obviously have no clue…? Oh, I am sorry but did I not just have an intelligent discussion with you on why I do not fancy that idea.
Why can’t we just respect decisions and opinions?
At the same time, these are the same ‘gifted’ people who claim that people are not tolerant enough to accept their unorthodox views. Do these people listen to themselves? Or maybe they do too much, such that voices like mine, and hopefully yours gets drowned in the drone of their own self made litany of praise, which circulates around their halo or aura at every heart beat !
What I have just enunciated is a story about the intolerant egotistical architect. To our misfortune, there is but another kind of egotistical designer, that (surprise, surprise) may even find the previously mentioned character difficult to engage in a discussion with. I think the person I am about to articulate on is more common.
This one believes that he is speaking for the whole world. So he never uses ‘I’ think. You may find this quite a contrast from the previous person, until you find that his apparent lack of creed, easily hides the inner sanctum of his inferiority complex. What I mean to say, is that he may not believe in coming out with ‘original’ ideas which stem from his individual experiences, but he certainly does parade the notion that he speaks for the majority.
And I think you will agree with me, that once you stop believing in your good self (if it is), the demands of this ‘elusive majority’ swiftly occupies a magisterial seat when you have to defend your own inadequacies, of simply a lack of opinion!
These are usually the ‘but’ people. I suppose since this person does not really concern me at the moment it is easy to talk about her. I once had the privilege to meet character B at a design crit. Actually, there were several. They all said the same thing. Why do your buildings look sad! I gave them the look which maybe did not cut them deep enough that hopefully said; what makes you think your buildings are happy? Of all the experiences possible for humanity, why must we always insist that the only plausible sensation we should hope to evoke from our environment is ‘happiness’? Is it just me, or are we dealing with a lack of imagination? The reader may want to read my last post below on ‘Sadness’.
Therefore, I would like to conclude with a different kind of I. This ‘I’ is me. ‘I’ think designers should say I more often. Like I believe, or I think. It just makes words less dictatorial, even if you are one. The reason behind this piece of advice is that it makes humility more attractive. People may appreciate the (gift from God) architect, if he would just reduce his objective opinions to the person of ‘I’. After all, is not our own conviction the only way we can judge our options and make dreams ‘reality’? Who else can we depend on but ‘I’, to take the first step?
Which is why, I want to say, that this essay, is only a string of my thoughts, and you can completely agree with me or otherwise. That you may comfortably agree with others that Zhin has no clue what he is talking about. And it will not hurt at all. Just like, how I may think You are Wrong, even if I do not think I am right, because after all I am a humble designer, who may be wrong. But it certainly does not abdicate my right to have an opinion, a bone to pick, just so that I know I still believe in something, and that you could either be mistaken, or in the event that you are truly Something Else, that I am a fool.
So who’s your Daddy?
PS: Do not believe any architect who tells you he’s not into coffee table books…? These people don’t even know they are lying. Check out their own library! See where absolutism leads you.
Oh ‘sigh’ on architecture July 2 2005
Sadness,
the last feature missing from contemporary architecture.
We pretend architecture encapsulates a variety of emotions
but we overlook the abyss of darkness,
the great symphony of endless depression,
…familiar and always lovely!
Have you not noticed?
What happened to the melancholy?
Where can we find any evidence in the architecture of today’s avant garde, which even merely suggests
Something more than narcissism?
Something more?
Of course we should demand more!
Architectural detailing is getting ever sleeker and sexier, but the emotional response to today’s built environment is surely banal!
What can we blame it upon?
The excess of 3d studio max modelling?
Or the hype of the Information Revolution. Let’s do away with emotion and say ‘yay’ to the interface! I am of the opinion that people are not only thinking less nowadays but thinking very narrowly. And so, the great technological wow-factor seems to be our only mask for the sad state of our imagination. So do not be surprised, when places (oh dear! You mean spaces; and so the argument continues ad infinitum) have nothing to offer other than shallow happiness, with token gestures clad in the latest flavour of the month PANTONE colour is all that there is.
Think hard, and then you will know why Herzog and de Meuron and MVRDV are there!
Because we put them there!
How so very very sad!
And so truly ugly
Why the sadness?
Because there is more beauty with loss and wanting than when everything is in apparent blossom. There are almost two strands in minimalism, with one overwhelming side prevailing against the other. Unfortunately, the coffee table variety, which is the dominant, hinges upon a reduction of things as a kind of new luxury! It is again architectural naricissism par excellence for the umpteenth time. It is only in these spaces, where one finds the beautiful bodies ‘juxtaposed’ with the ‘new’ aesthetic. Gratias tibi Photoshop.
On the flip side? We have a minimalism that is less ‘pure’, and less naïve as well. It can be equated with a burning fire. A kind of architecture where the saying , ‘ashes to ashes and dust to dust’ rings true. It is not about having the right furniture at the right angle and perhaps wide or narrow enough to fit into your extra wide angle camera or your gadgets in Form Z or 3d studio max. This raging fire consumes that which is unnecessary, making things pure, not in a contrived way but almost in a matter of fact genre. It is in these places that a metaphysical awakening seems possible. All ancient sacred places possess this quality, what we now call primordial
A place that is from the other side.
And the last word we can use to enunciate these places is (that oh so boring word) new! While we may use the word olden or ancient, I think it is less likely that we are indicating a romance with the past, as much as we are comforted by the truth that they come from beyond through a tear in our milieu.
We are given, this place is given, this time is given,
And all will be tested in the refining fire.
Tomorrow
Tomorrow is today as we ought to see it. Tomorrow is what we want today and is none other than a dream that wants to be true. We only desire to do things tomorrow, since it could be impossible to do it now. In most cases, tomorrow is the best excuse for not making what we want today, today!
However, for others tomorrow carries a lot of hope. We know we are dissatisfied with where we are, and since it is quite obvious that some conditions do not change within a second, tomorrow is the next best guess of when it will happen. As much as we would love to think that there is nothing more demanding and real as responding to the present, tomorrow is perhaps the REAL constant.
Tomorrow is the only reason why we live. Tomorrow is the only uncertain certainty. Tomorrow will come whether you like it or not. The old saying of ‘making best of what you have today’ is only true inasmuch as you can hopefully get it on the ship of tomorrow.
We build because we expect tomorrow. We also hope tomorrow builds a home for us in return for our giving it a chance to lay a foundation today. Every human act anticipates a tomorrow. It is almost like a race from being consumed by the past. To a certain extent, this may be the reason why we feel technology maybe moving too fast for us to get a hold on it. Nevertheless, there arises a certain suspicion that this drive is motivated by a self-consuming and obsessive possession of tomorrow. Therefore, let’s get to tomorrow before tomorrow comes is a possible answer to why certain advances almost feel naggingly suspicious and uncomfortable.
On the other extreme, there is sometimes an unhealthy tendency to drag tomorrow to the past. This is sometimes doubly difficult because it is already difficult to ‘install’ today permanently into tomorrow. Pulling tomorrow to take yesterday on board is very laborious. Currently, this is quite rare, but there is a growing population, which are determined to make this happen.
Like many ‘balanced’ outlooks, which are sometimes both ‘left-wing’ and ‘right-wing’ ideals (since you need both to fly!), it is much better to fish into tomorrow. We should be as patient as one who is fishing by a river. Yes, we are firmly sitting on a rock of today, facing a flowing stream. We do not know what we might catch, and yet we cast our fishing lines into the unknown, not knowing how deep it would go, how long it would take. And meanwhile, we have much to think about. The stream is always flowing and that is why we are fishing here, because it carries life with it. Life from a ‘somewhere else’ to another ‘somewhere else’. It is not the bait which catches the fish, but rather the stream, the potential of progressing somewhere else which ‘gives’ us an eternal treasure to pass on to another tomorrow.
Progression can go both ways. Today is on this day since it is being fought over by two forces, of the future and the past. Tomorrow is given as a gift, whereas yesterday and slowly ‘today’ is progressively being taken from us. An optimistic person is concerned with expecting more from tomorrow. The ‘banal’ realist (not always) is concerned with trying to perfect today, which is struggling to be today. A pessimist is concerned with tomorrow and today always coming too soon before his imagination can be stretched from a lesser to a greater.
Charity is always the future giving to today. Love that is committed for today is thus not appreciated. Commitment to love is commonly seen as something, which has to persevere from today onwards. A fresher perspective would be to live tomorrow’s person’s commitments closer to today. We are never the ideal person today! In a sense we live both today, trying to live tomorrow’s person. We always hope and sometimes feel we are more complete tomorrow than today. To love is to accept the given grace from tomorrow’s person and re-presenting it to another today. Love cannot be created, it can only be accepted. Acceptance of it compels it to be given to another. It is always a gift.
For this reason, of the gift of tomorrow, there is either a positive progression of tomorrow or a negative progression to the past. That which is positive, builds a future which can continue to give to the future. That which is negative, builds a future which is selfish and easily consumed to become a past. The ‘better’ future carries all memories of the past insofar as the past is able to contribute to a further tomorrow. A ‘bleak’ future is unable to see that the past needs to always be at risk, being thrown into the furnace of tomorrow. If it is worthy of the future, it will not only withstand it but continue to be re-presented into the future. If not for the act of giving and accepting charity, there is no purpose of building. It requires one to anticipate a risk, for it can either be rejected or accepted. We are sure that despite a rejection, love cannot be quashed. It can be accepted again. It is only when it is accepted that there is a promising future. The rejection of love does not ‘give’, it accepts and exhausts it on itself. This is how evil occurs. Evil is when tomorrow cannot be better than today.
A point of departure
(coming soon)