Door Gift

Last week J and I found a box of old Christmas decorations he bought before we'd even met. It was only after putting some of it out on the door to our flat that it occurred how sad it must make Boy #106 and Girl #15 look - home alone clutching the iron gate while the body-less snowman twirled above their heads in the monsoon weather. Perhaps some kid in our block (we discovered later it was the 9 year-old niece of our neighbour upstairs) felt this way too, because last night, she slipped this painting under our door.


company for the home alone kids this new year's eve with Mr Cross-eyed, Lil' Fearful, and Ms Those-Aren't-My-Friends

friends, whoever it is you will be with this evening - you, them, him, her - amps wish you good company.

More than bricks and mortar

I've never before been near or inside a building designed by Pritzker Prize winner Frank Gehry. Since the Sentosa "Integrated Resort" ultimately did not go to Kerzner & Capitaland with their Gehry bid, the chances for that now are even more remote.

Of course, Gehry's recent freeform and curvaceously faceted buildings, such as the Guggenheim Museum at Bilbao and the Disney Concert Hall in LA, have attracted a good amount of love and hate. In the same way, one of us islanders had described his design for the Sentosa IR as "a wad of wet tissue", while another, a "lantern" (I reckon it looks like a lion fish - which, if true, is a great literal dig at the Merlion!). Well, at least it was a design that stirred some imagination and inspired opinion. Give me architectural tissue or lantern anytime instead of Universal Studios...

What led me to think about Gehry was a random link to this Interview with Gehry in the Opinion Journal. Even if you don't know who Frank Gehry is, it's an interesting read for what it says about a man - and death. Or rather, what facing death may say about a man.

The interview cites his famed ignorance of computers, his reliance on teams of engineers and architects and this:

Then apropos of very little in particular, he says, "What I am interested in is, since it's 150 people here and a lot of people's lives and futures depend on it, how do you create a succession?" Again Mr. Gehry sounds passionate. "There's a way to leave it and pull the plug and I am fine and they"-referring to his employees-"lose." As part of managing for his own death, Mr. Gehry has been trying to build the public personae of the people who work for him, trying to direct some of the limelight that seems always oriented towards him in their direction. In the catalogs and exhibits devoted to his work, he makes sure to mention the people who worked with him on his various projects.

The interviewer calls this Gehry's "old fashioned virtue".

Some nights ago as J and I walked out of the cinema after watching Curse of the Golden Flower, the conversation wandered from the emperor's "necessary" tyranny to how things should be IF J, one day, have employees.

Our conclusion was that the "old-fashioned virtue" of Gehry's is something that must be pursued. Of course, Gehry's approach can be understood as anachronistic because succession is seldom an issue today. The mark of success is being able to sell off your company for a huge profit as soon as possible. Quick and easy. And it is both "old-fashioned" and a virtue because the workplace tells you that aggressive self-marketing is what keeps you successful, not letting others - much less your employees - steal your limelight. So in contrast to all this, while Gehry may have a parent's obstinate insistence on knowing what's good for you, he seems a good man for having a parent's wise, loving generosity.


image by J

And as usual, J has a more succinct way of putting all this: (taken from his flickr)visited a client today. an italian. he told me that he wants to help other succeed. Hence, he always beileve in giving his employees, those who show potential, opportunities to learn his culinary skills. and even to give his employees reasonably good (by local standards) renumeration packages. Local bosses, learn, learn. This should not be a world where you pay $1 to someone, and you intend to squeeze $1.20 from them. This should be a world when someone ask for $1, give them $1.20. They will give you $2 back. pay-it-forward, so they have beautifully coined this act of generosity. :)

blessed

Friends, amps wish you a blessed Christmas - albeit belatedly - and give you this drawing by J/TOHA in his inimitable freestyle, about insatiable appetites and the real blessing that we may therefore miss.


click for flickr view

And in keeping with this theme, our favourite presents this year include a small container of "A Hot Hot Rub for Aches & Pains" from cousin KM that promises to also "Conquer All Demons" (!) and a faux gold plaque from an aunt that declares for us "Christ is the Head of this Home".

A time to live and a time to -

image by J

Y: Hey, do you notice that there's always more funerals and wakes held in the void deck in December? More people die in December yah?
J: Oh yah.
Y: I wonder why...maybe it does actually get colder in December and old folks are weaker so they will fall sick and get pneumonia?
J: Yah, that makes sense.
Y: Or maybe it is psychological...you know, December is a time for reflection, and old people, they look back on another year that has passed and that the new year is approaching, maybe they grow tired or think that it is time to go -

On our small tropical island, sometimes it feels like nature does not offer many reminders of the rhythmns and seasons of time and life. The trees shed their leaves all year round, it rains or drizzles without seeming pattern, humidity is a heavy monotony to bear, and the weathergirl never quite tires of reading the temperature range of 26 to 33 degree celsius (someone in the office once joked that we do have seasons - aircon and outdoors). But in the last few days I am reminded how the coming and going of the monsoons, however less dramatic than their Indian manifestations, however unexceptional, do mark our small island's years.

In one of my favourite Hou Hsiao Hsien films A time to live and a time to die, the audience views from a distance (literally, given the number of long shots) the life of a 50s taiwanese family nearly transplated from and the barely perceptible rhythmns of their life. We do not know how many years have passed in the film, except that the children very slowly but surely have grown taller.

I remember in the last scene of the film, we see the narrator's grandmother lying on the tatami floor by the porch, seemingly taking an afternoon nap on a hot and humid summer day. And in that oppressive stillness, the narrator slowly comes to realise from a trail of ants by his grandmother's silent body that she has passed away.

2-in-1 saturdays

click pic for larger view in flickr. J/TOHA coloured this drawing as well. For his version, click here

It's always hard drawing kids on the train since they can't ever keep still. Even when they do, they are always quicker to notice you. And unlike adults, who will pretend that they are not aware of you (or that anyone would even think of sketching them), kids have no qualms about making their knowledge obvious and staring back. But this girl was sitting quiet in the pram. She looked way too old to be still pushed about in the pram. She stared vacantly ahead and did not fidget. Occasionally her eyes would move, but not her head which was supported by a child-sized pillow.

After a good afternoon of kueh pie tee and wine with colleagues at my boss's apartment, J and I spent the rest of the day with Ma J at the hospital. These 2 halves of the day could not have been more different.

By 9 or so, most of the visitors to the hospital had left. Some patients had turned off the lights by their beds and were asleep. Others, like Ma J, kept their eyes open - even if only the narrowest - perhaps afraid to be left alone once they gave any indication of sleep.

Right beside Ma J's bed was a wall of windows. The view from the 9th floor this side of the hospital was completely un-blocked - there was not any highrise buildings. There was the hospital driveway, a field, some old barracks or houses (now an old folks home) and clean stacks of private apartments in the middle distance and beyond. Traffic was sparse and considerate on the quiet side roads. And this being a Saturday night, not many windows on the apartment blocks were lit. Those that were gave out a warm orangey glow, the kind of light you imagined people would slowly dance to or doze off in as music played.

As I stood by these windows looking out, a constant December breeze on the skin and the very last of the wine leaving my head, there was a calm and a comfort. Perhaps like me, you would say that the view was peaceful. But if you were a patient lying beside these windows looking out - maybe a bedridden patient like Ma J - I wonder if this view was not one of the loneliest, the December wind through the hospital's woven blanket a cold companion.

Review/ Skincare: Origins - Comforting Solution

I used to have good skin until puberty came and I have my first boil.. The rest was history and I've had senstitized skin since then.

This is my first Origins product since I first started in 2003. I'm already in the x bottle as of now. This product has a very gingerly, zesty smell which took awhile for me to get used to it and soon I fell in love with it.

Frankly speaking, I dont really feel that this product does anything for my skin except for the smell and the placebo effect it has on me.

* Picture source from Origins Website*

the cosmopolitan vs the homebody

image by J

J/TOHA writes: One of my japanese class lecturers used to call me "cosmopolitan". Frankly, I don't know why. That was a huge word for me! Anyway, I have been reading a bit about design and the world of creatives. And it seems that one of the most commonly quoted source of inspiration for these folks is travelling. As I have an extremely sensitive nose, I cannot endure long flights, since my nose would be all clogged up and my throat will become extremely dry. So the furthest I have ever been to is Japan. But I have been thinking about travelling quite a lot these days. Maybe because it is the end of the year. Or maybe the cosmopolitan in me is calling.

There are many types of travellers. Some feel the need to see every significant historic and cultural site, taste every possible local dish. The supermarket traveller. Some like the thrill of adventure and seek out only the most exotic and the most obscure. The trophy traveller. Others desire the luxury afforded only to the foreigner: the ancient massage technique, the flowered bath, the doorman's bow, the Louis Vuitton suitcases. The sahib traveller.

All are not, by dictionary.com's definition, truly cosmopolitan. Perhaps the real cosmopolitan is the business traveller - he is at home anywhere in the world, because he is most often everywhere but home.


image by J

When J and I travel, aiyah, we are most unadventurous! We do the very things we would in Singapore. We take the public transport in order to walk aimlessly around a certain district or to look for connections with what we already know - a film we have watched, a book we have read, a song we have heard or a reference found in any of these. So we end up in sometimes rather unexciting places. A quiet neighbourhood with housewives. A street where the only activity observable are art students taking a break on the college steps. An expired park with dry fountains. Then at the end of the day we stake out a cafe and sit for hours. If we are lucky, we strike up a conversation with someone. If not, we doodle or chat. We then usually return to the cafe or the same street everyday - as if eager to sink roots.

Us amps are definitely not cosmopolitans; we are homebodies! And perhaps we travel hoping to find in a foreign place an even stronger sense of home. Friends, what kind of traveller are you?

who's more tired - mama or her cat?

After a Saturday playing cleaning lady for J's ampulets studio while he played IT technician trying to overcome some ridiculous Mac/Intel/Adobe bug, we visited the mentally and physically exhausted Ma J at the hospital before rushing to catch Theatre Practice's re-staging of the late Kuo Pao Kun's play Mama Looking for her Cat.

Mama Looking for Her Cat was first staged in 1988. It is often referred to as the first multilingual play in Singapore. From watching a short clip of that original staging screened as part of Saturday's new staging, how I wished I was in the 1988 audience!

In the 1988 staging, Sasitharan (current director at the Theatre Training and Research Programme ), played an old Indian man Mama bumped into while searching for her cat. It turns out both of them are in a similar predicament, having had their cats "chased out" by their children. Though not speaking each other's language, they gestured and "meowed" their way into an understanding. In the bare black box setting, their physical distance across the length of the stage gradually was closed (on all fours, they moved) until Mama laid an understanding hand on the old man's shoulder - resolving a very well-acted comic exchange.

Kuo Pao Kun was attuned to the fractures of Singapore culture and history. These are breaks and disjunctures the island's people and leaders have intended or had to contend with. There are the cultural break-ups with the languages, traditions and heritage of each migrant community. These accentuate generational breaks, familial tensions. There is also the fractured relationship between people and authority, as well as the break between the island's post-65 history and everything else before. In Mama/Cat, the physical absence of a cat, Mama's loneliness, the children's busy-ness, the multiple languages and the use of nursery rhymes/games - through both extremes of absence and profusion - dramatise the fractures between generations and cultures. Yet those same strategies of rhymes/games and multilingualism offer the possibility of reconciliation.

In this way Kuo Pao Kun was larger than this small island.

Watching last Saturday's staging adapted by Singaporean cast and Austrian director Martina Winkel, there were moments of simple brilliance. The multiple languages and multiple media, when simply used, worked. The simulcast with Austria, including a moving telling of a migrant Turkish family's experience of dislocation in Austria, sounded on paper a tad fussy. But it added to the performance brief stretches of emotional and narrative simplicity and silence (ah, paradox) amidst the theatre studio's noisy dramatics.

And what a noisy 1.5hrs - visually, aurally and "poetically"! The set by artist Brian Gothang Tan (with its suspended screens and multiple TVs showing a live feed of the play), the soundtrack (audience could bring music to be mixed by a DJ), the "guest appearance" by Sasitharan (who sat typing his stream-of-consciousness laments on language and national identity onto the screen) and the actors' performance... noise noise noise.

Perhaps this staging wanted to drive home the point that in 2006, the communication barriers we face are not mitigated but built by the many more channels of information and translation.

Perhaps Sasi wanted, through his palimpsest, to make obvious the analogy between the impatience of Mama's children with our wilful insistence on being cultural orphans - our disregard for the langauge of our national anthem, our national amnesia...etc etc.

Perhaps it was just a long day. So I walked out of the studio a little tired by the noise and lamenting. It was quite opposite to reading Kuo Pao Kun's script and watching that short clip of his 1988 staging where theatre itself - its process and the possibilities of engagement between work/audience/actors - seem to be able to present possibilities, not quite of healing, but at least of learning.

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Some other links on the play here:
> Malaysian arts website Kakiseni
> NLB's Infopedia page
> Ng Yi Sheng's Review at the Flying Inkpot

documenting love

image by J - from the fashion themed gallery

J and I went to take a look inside the newly re-opened National Museum this evening - and we loved it. Well, to be precise, these were what we loved:

(1) the restoration, extension and renovation works to the building by W Architects (Mok Wei Wei) with CPG Consultants. It created a sense of space we did not think was possible in Singapore - not the space that came with having miles of shopping floor, nor the empty granite hollows of our train stations. Instead, the unobtrusive glass and stone created new public spaces from or with the plastered surfaces of the 19th century building that were, consequently, at times grand, intimate or expansive. These spaces felt both storied and yet to be written.


image by Y & J

(2)the large LED wall installation by artist Matthew Ngui titled The building remembers/Remembering the building. The wall of LED lights captured and "reflected" images of the visitors standing before it, both in real time but sometimes in also recorded time. As such, there were stretches when instead of seeing your own immediate LED image, all you saw were random images instead of people who had stood before the wall seconds or minutes ago - creating these abstract patterns of bodies past and passing. When unlit, you would not guess that it was an LED light wall. All you saw was a stone-like surface of black that appeared as if it was a slice of the Fort Canning Hill behind the museum.


Y looks better in LED - image by J

ampulets reckon this wall would be a hit with the school kids.

(3) the things people wrote as a document of their lives, loves and their island's life. It may be my bias for words, but what struck me as I walked through the fascinating "Singapore Story" galleries that attempted to trace this island's history from the 13th century was the centrality and importance of writing as a record - perhaps even greater than image, taste or sound. Because the written word endures, not only physically or literally, but also as an evocation and an invocation of the past, the present and truth.


on the left is the Temasek Stone, supposedly the earliest stone text found on the island; and on the right are manuscripts of the Malay Annals which I want now, more than ever, to read - image by Y


the back of a pair of movie tickets from the 60s, on which a man/woman has written down his love - from the "film" gallery. Click for flickr view & J's translation of the text - image by J

(4) the possibility of return visits because there's really that much more to see. I especially recommend the "Singapore Story" galleries, or rather, the galleries that begin from the new rotunda extension. Go with the audio aid, which is easy to navigate and makes the entire visit so much more meaningful. The themed galleries on the second floor (on "food", "fashion", "film" etc) are disappointingly superficial, despite the profusion of fancy "experiential" displays. They pander to nostalgia, but fail mostly to scratch beyond that cosy wooly surface.

The "film" gallery is the themed gallery I enjoyed and would revisit. Maybe it is because, unlike food, film is an aspect of our modern history young islanders know the least of. Or maybe it is because films are themselves documents - unlike food or fashion, which have been presented only as objects of consumption - and have been curated as documents.


Y having tea with the colonial tai-tais - darling, that's just so yawn-making, you should go to the national museum instead

Well, the weekend's coming up - so you know now how to spend it!

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The museum's opening festival runs 2-31 December. There're film screenings, performances, and - hey, there's the history itself.

numbers

click for flickr view

Ma J gets back into the hospital for the 3rd time this year. The doctors are asking if they should send some kind of micro-camera into her body, but they are too busy to explain any further what it all means except that it costs $2k - and there's a 1% chance it may get lost somehwere in her gut!

This time Ma J is in a 6-bed ward (sb - yes, some kind of cattle class). Like the doctors who are too busy for the patients' bothersome families, it would seem that we also are too busy with our professional lives for the patients. So of the 5 beds that are occupied, 4 of the patients are accompanied by the families' domestic help. 4 ladies from Indonesia. They sit daily by the beds, assist the nurses with the changing of the patients' diapers and sheets, chitchat with the bedridden old women, give each compatriot smiles, and doze off. 3 of them actually stay over at the hospital - lying across an arrangement of peach-coloured plastic chairs. This being December, we are all glad a gentle wind sends relief constantly through the room's open windows, having found its way to the hospital in between the highrise condominiums and office blocks.

who's the boss?

image by J, boss disguise courtesy of lint from J's cardigan

It's been two and a half months since J stopped being a salaried employee and started running "ampulets" as a registered design business. Since friends have been asking how's it been, here's a summary of J/TOHA's experience so far -

Sweetest part of the deal: Being able to "control" how you spend your time, even if most of that control is technically false since you are bound to complete the job for your client (usually within tight deadlines). But more importantly, doing something you enjoy and have chosen to do. Plus there's always the satisfaction of learning and knowing you have provided more than just a solution to someone else's challenge.

Things to get used to: Not having colleagues (well, not until you think you want to hire or grow with new partners) around to banter and toss ideas with. Consequently, having to wear several hats - e.g. cleaning lady, delivery boy, consultant, account manager, business development, IT technician. If you have a spouse, share some of those duties - e.g. I am the default critic, accountant, clerk and coffee lady.

Things that keep you awake at night: Unfinished work in an office that is 2 steps and 1 coffee mug away from the bedroom.

Things that frustrate: IT problems - hardware, software (oh, intel core 2 duo processors in a mac don't work well with adobe!) you name it, the computer will have it. How much happier when things were made with hands and simpler tools!

Things to watch out for: Taking time out from the desk to meet a client face-to-face, read the papers, read a book, take a walk, visit a museum, have lunch with friends and other like-minded folks, do work which don't necessarily pay all the bills. Count all this as your legitimate work time.

There are other useful things J has gleaned from folks who have been-there-done-that and have written down their experiences in books. One of my favourite is art director of Work Theseus Chan's "always dress better than your clients". J is reading Adrian Shaughnessy's cheesily-titled How to be a graphic designer without losing your soul which, in spite of its title, provides rather down to earth, practical-sounding advice.

At the end of the day, it's knowing what you want for yourself and the people you work with. A career does not define who you are. It cannot save. It can, of course, do what it does best, feed your stomach and some of your mind. It can be conducted with integrity - but only because it is a reflection of a larger picture of a life lived.

Monday night J and I went to collect a pair of rings from argentum. We took a long bus ride and after alighting, in the cool night air, found our way to her studio in a quiet residential estate. The designer S has been putting her work out under argentum for many years now (in Singapore, she is stocked at Blackjack in Forum). In many ways J and I admire not only her work but her way of work - quietly, independently, modestly, unassumingly.

Anyway, here is a pic of our new rings. They are very different in form and tone from her initial clean white/black industrial rubber rings (like life buoys) that we got married in. But hey, we like them both and better still, we are looking forward to how, with time and wear, they will change.

Review/ Skincare: Origins - Modern Friction

Ok, got this after strong recommendation from Ling.

The lady at counter told me that this is good for sensitive skin too and taught me the method to using it.

So, being an arden fan of Origins products and since I need a scrub for my face, I bought it.

The smell of the product was refreshing. It was zesty and wasn't as bad smelling as the other Origins products.

The texture felt coarse on my palms as I scooped it out with a spatula, which made me kind of apprehensive.

But oh well, if can try something like Daily Microfoliant on my skin, I figured, I should be able to use this. At least, it wasn't sizzling due to reaction with water. Besides, I have already prepared myself for the worst.

So, I started to rub a small amount on my outer cheek whereby there was less irritation. To my surprise, it was not as harsh as I initially thought it would be.

The best part is, that small amount that I scooped out was enough for my whole face. Woah.. No wonder the price tag of SGD$75.00. One jar of that will last me a long long time.

The skin felt smoother and cleaner after the scrub and best part was, there was no irritation or inflammation after that.

This has been marked as the must buy product on my list already.

anyone listening?

Love classified - click for larger flickr view and translation

Today I was at a conference listening to all these hotshot designers, an Indian filmmaker and a "media maverick" talk about their work and worklife. There were a few others, but they were not in any way memorable.

The Indian filmmaker, having just retired and whose film titles fill 3 pages, was the only one who argued for a life of reflection as opposed to a life of consumption, amusement and pleasure. The rest were unapologetic about their celebrity and their ability to command desire. They were, of course, more amusing and quick-witted in their presentation. The Indian filmmaker, dressed in a large denim shirt, his eyeglasses perched atop his balding head, his eyes in a squint and his face in a grimace, was not amusing. In fact, the audience shifted between respect and incredulity at his departure from the vocabulary of "branding", "design" and "creativity" as he declared - "We are all just amusing ourselves to our deaths." No one really paid heed. Everyone just wanted a life of consumption, amusement and pleasure - even unto death.

been down so long it feels like up to me

"...because it's a long way down before you hit the safety net." 2 men sketched while on a train. Transporting them onto a pseudo calder mobile is J's idea, as usual.

On an island obsessed with "upgrading", J and I were involved in a little "downgrading" this morning.

Specifically, this morning J and I tried to help his dad navigate the healthcare system. We learnt that if you or your relative has a long-term illness and your family members don't carry wads of cash in your pockets, it is best to be prudent and opt to stay in a subsidised ward. Even if it means doing without the air-conditioner. Because the long-term costs are what you should look out for. In the case of J's mom, it means paying $75 for a 1 hour physiotherapy session instead of $30. It means $190 to see a doctor and a speech therapist instead of $60. Not too bad until you consider that doctor visits are once a month at least, and a good structured rehab programme for Ma J would require 4 physiotherapy sessions a week.

We found out that in order to "downgrade" Ma J's healthcare status to "B2", a social worker would have to assess Pa J's financial situation and make a recommendation. This seemed fair enough.

I remember picking up a second-hand book years ago at an old bookstore called SKOOB when I was a teenager (ah, that word feels weird!). The title caught my eye - Been Down So Long It Looks Like Up to Me by Richard Farina. Farina died 2 days in a motorbike accident - yes, a 60s child - after his book was published. I didn't like it when I first read it, and still don't. Too much studied, smarty-hip allusions and humour. Too American ;> But the title stuck.

Today, looking at Ma J's empty eyes (when she actually opened them) on her emaciated face, the head hanging low out of defeat but also rebellion and anger, Farina's book title came to mind. But there somehow seems to be a note or two of falseness in that title. It's been almost 9 months since Ma J suffered her stroke. It seems short when compared to a whole lifetime. But 9 months is the time needed for new life to come into being. And for Ma J, 9 months down just feels so long. I don't think it looks like up to her.

Review/ Skincare: Origins - Plantidote Mega-Mushroom Face Cream

Got this as a set with the 30ml serum at a real low price from a friend. Initially I only wanted the serum since it's my staple face care item. But since this was going cheap, I figured I might as well buy it together.

I didn't get the face cream from the retailer because it was really expensive compared to the serum. RRP @ $120 (If I don't remember wrongly) for 50ml.

I tried some this morning when I was going out. It had a smell as though it had gone bad. I was pretty alarmed at first but seeing that there was no discolouration, I decided that it was safe to use.

It took some time for me to get used to the smell of my current face cream -- Origins Face Comforter when I started to use it and so I thought I would give the Plantidote Face Cream a few more days.

Nothing special in my opinion. I think the serum is adequate for me. Will see how it goes and update this entry.

Btw, there's a promotion going on from 24th - 26th Nov @ Isetan Scotts (Level 2) whereby members get double chops for every $50 spent.

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Add On: Tried it for a few days and found it to be too rich for my skin. So, it landed up on my Mom's dressing table. Wahaha.. Ladies, take heed, this is really rich and unless you have very dry skin, pls dun attempt to try it.

Review/ Skincare: Dermalogica - Daily Microfoliant

Ok, got this as sample when I purchased the Sensitive Skin Kit. Since it came in the pack, figured that I should be able to use it.

My face was really feeling dirty and decided to try this thing. (Bad choice since my skin was kind of acting up.)

The thing comes in a powder form and you are supposed to rub it into a paste with really wet hands.

The moment I poured the powder onto my palms, I could hear faint sizzling sounds as the acid was reacting with the water.

As I rub my skin, I could feel heavy stinging, probably due to broken skin on my face. I rubbed till I could take it anymore and rinsed off with warm water.

The after effects was good as I felt my skin was cleaner and smoother. But this didn't last long. My skin started to react and became really red and blotchy the next day. I had to stop my heavy duty cleansing, lots of plantidote serum to curb the redness.

All in all, I feel that this product is kind of harsh on my skin although I didn't really gave a fair test since my skin was hyperacting. I shall give it another try when my skin is better and when I find 心情 to nurse my face should the same thing happen again.

Link to product description

more is less

For the past 2 weeks at printmaking class, I've been learning what is known as the "reduction method" for lino-print (similar to woodcuts, except the cheap & soft linoleum sheet is used instead of wood). The idea is this:

(1) If you want to make an image with several colours, you start with a print of the lightest, for eg. pale yellow.
(2) Then you carve away the sections which you want to remain pale yellow. And you make a print using a darker colour (say red) on the exact same piece of paper.
(3) Them you carve away the sections you want to remain red, and you make another print using an even darker colour (say brown) on the exact same piece of paper.


reducing

As you continue to layer colours (from light to darkest) on that printed paper, the more your linoleum sheet is stripped away. I thought, what poetry! That as the image emerges on the paper, it disappears from your linoleum; and as the paper changes its form as a print, so the vessel and medium of that art reduces in substance, literally. But perhaps not metaphorically. Because between the print and the linoleum, the latter to me bears all the marks of time and effort.

It is for simple reasons like this that no matter how tired and late I am for printmaking class, it remains my favourite evening of the week.


a happy place

on the back of a turtle

all images in this long post are by J - click for flickr view

Politicians often like to refer Asia as if it had a unity of culture, economics and geography. Particularly on our small island, there is a certain rhetoric, dreamlike, of belonging to or even defining that large bountiful continent.

But whatever Asia is, it seems more like a varied and fractured place - cultural and religious practices diverge, and nations themselves are often artifically forged and hence bear the marks of recent unions or fierce disjunctures. Its physical geography seems to have pre-determined this - a continental mass, many peninsulars, and countless islands from barely visible dots to splotches along a major faultline of volcanic activity. So it is that even our small island, itself only a diamond-shaped dot, lays claim to several still tinier southern islands.

Well, if you have it, enjoy it!

So to satisfy our wanderlust, J and I decided we would leave our work and small island behind for a day and take a trip to one of these still tinier islands...Kusu, the island of turtles! Friends, if like us, you have a beer-belly-in-spandex budget (yes, tight and ugly with only 10% lycra), ampulets reckon you can still have a near-perfect day if you:

(1) make your transportation public

To get to Kusu Island, take the North-South line furthest south to the Marina Bay MRT station. Once you get out of the station (er, there's only 1 exit), it's a short walk to the bus stop where Bus 402 will take you to the new Marina South Pier.
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(2) have at least $12 in your pocket



That will give you 1 return ferry ticket and the island admission ticket. We took the Penguin Pride, and as it chugged along for 15minutes, we said goodbye to the artificially formed coastline of Singapore. The Penguine Pride made a creamy foam and negotiated its way between large tankers, barges, cargo ships and one touristy Ching-Chong floating restaurant. Though our social studies textbooks pound home the fact that entrepot trade was the lifeblood of this island, it does not become real until you see for yourself the busy waters around us.

(3) bring out your camera and a poctketful of nostalgia





Because if you've ever been to Kusu island as a child, it has and it hasn't quite changed. Of course you can trust the tourism board to have spruced up the place, and the terrapins and tortoises that used to crowd the pond under the Chinese bridges leading to the temple are gone. Instead, the creatures are now housed within the temple in tiled enclosures, next to caged up pythons and assorted taoist deities. Outside the temple is the secular "tortoise shelter". There you can hop into the cement enclosure. But despite these changes (or perhaps owing to that hazy nature of nostalgia) us amps still had the same happy feeling of seeing these long-lost, abandoned pets from our childhood.

(4) possess some tolerance for incense smoke





Other than the taoist temple, Kusu Island also boasts kramats or shrines atop a hillock dedicated supposedly to "3 Malay saints" - or so the signboard says. The signboard also says its 152 steps up to reach the shrine (well, I counted only 124). But it is perhaps entwined with the whole story about Kusu Island, that it was formed when a turtle transformed itself into an island in order to save 2 drowning fishermen, one Chinese and the other Malay. So each built a temple or a shrine according to his faith.



Once at the top of the hill, walls painted yellow are filled with "lucky 4D numbers" scrawled in all shades. Yellow candles, yellow strips of cloth, packets of "blessed" flowers and bundles of incense are passed around for $2. The trees and plants around the kramat bear the weight of this over-abundance of unfulfilled desire and hopes. It is said that many childless couples come to this kramat. But that day, we saw more fortune-seeking couples and families, since most of them are of an age where it would definitely take a miracle for them to conceive! And as with the men who stood by the taoist altars at the foot of the hill, the men who stood by these kramats offered visitors the same greetings in Hokkien - "Prosper!", "All your wishes come true!", "Peace and safety!" - if you offered a $2 bunch of incense.



(5) enjoy the fisherman's view

Us amps finally could not take all that incense burning at the temple and up the hill. The smoke fills not only your nose/lungs but gets into your head. Unless you actually believe all that burning and yearning will move some god to favour your 4D number over the rest this weekend, the smoke and those hungry eyes around you will soon oppress.

So we beat a hasty retreat down the hill back to the island's edge.



There, the water is surprisingly clear and a constant breeze sways the trees and accompanies the waves. Our advice is to pack your own lunch (bring plenty of water) to Kusu, because eating by this mind-clearing openness is way better than at the over-priced food centre by the temple. And this is about the best thing about getting to Kusu. Ah, maybe it is because we were always meant to be just residents of a sleepy fishing village, not some busy trading port! or it is my hainan island genes calling out to be left alone with coconut trees in the tropical afternoon.

(6) get back

The last ferry leaves Kusu at 6.30pm. So don't be left behind with the terrapins! There are no residents at Kusu, so it could get pretty lonely if you miss the last boat. Plus nobody actually knows if the island turns back into a turtle and swims away.



We did one last walk round the island and popped by the toilets (they are clean and there are also outdoor shower facilities for swimmers and picnickers). Outside the toilets by a picnic table, a group of middle-aged aunties were playing cards when a policewoman approached them to stop the game. It seemed that while you can come to Kusu to pray for all the good fortune at the lottery, you can't try out the efficacy of your prayers by launching into a card game with your friends. The aunties packed up their game and sarcastically remarked - "aiyah, we should go swimming hor!" They sauntered off towards the pier and boarded the Penguin Empress with us back to the main island.

(7) fancy an unfancy french meal



Since you've saved by packing lunch to Kusu, amps recommed that you drop by The French Stall in Little India. You probably know this place by now - a no-frills restaurant by a supposedly 2-star Michelin chef. We are no gourmands, but I do know the duck leg with orange sauce on a bed of creamy risotto is about the best thing I've eaten for $15.80. And the folks at the other tables are fairly interesting to watch - teenagers on their first (or second date), a balding uncle with a long-haired babe in denim shorts, a french expatriate family...



To get there, take the North-east train and drop at the Farrer Park station, take the G exit and walk down Serangoon Road. The French Stall is at the corner of Serangoon and Sturdee Road.

(8) walk the talk

Since you've survived the day without a car, why not complete it by taking public transportation home? To get to the next train station (Boon Keng on the North-east line), take a leisurely walk along Sernagoon Rd towards Bendemeer. Along the way, check out the neon lights of the few remaining bars, including one below "the Singapore Institute of Science", and the glowing hearts - not of the night ladies - but of the old Kong Wai Shui hospital.


why why why?

Just before we boarded the bus home at the Boon Keng MRT station, we saw the above challenge on the window of Singapura Finance.

But friends, I hope you don't need the Sunny-Island Moneylender in order to live your dreams. Neither should you need any supposed supernatural assistance, paid off with incense, to greater prosperity, health or fertility.



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Other domestic tourism links here:
>> J/TOHA's flickr photoset of Kusu here
>> The library gives an overview of Kusu & all its legends
>> More Ferry Info here, including how to get to the other southern islands
>> Not keen to take a ferry? Here are 2 simple trails you can follow to contribute to domestic tourism -
Katong
Balestier & Mr Sun