Self-pimpage

A horrifyingly belated commentary to Whitney Houston's passing can be found here.

Better late than never, right, Pidah?

Traipsing down memory lane ...

I was eleven the first time I listened to this song. Although I was a callow child with little understanding of romantic notions, but the sincere emotions illuminated by a sweet melody and illustrated by prosaic lyrics really struck me. The song evoked a visceral reaction in me and I remember going to school, humming this song and trying to recapture the sensation I experience even from the opening bar of the song.



Since then, I have been a fan of Robert Palmer and am working towards collecting his discography. He was a talented musician and singer who delved in genres from pop to progressive rock to swing and jazz. But I love him best when he croons love sweet nothings.

Now, I all I need to do is find a guy who will dedicate this song to me. *grin*

Literature demystified by Kurt Vonnegut

Kurt Vonnegut is one of those lauded authors whose books I am not tempted to seek.  But if the graphs below were what he used to teach literature, man, what would I give to audit that class. *props chin in admiration*

 

The story arc of a romance novel. Tried and true trope it may be, but romance is still one of the largest and most profitable genre of the publication industry.

Staggered build up of this nature is usually pleasing to the readers of fairytales. Cynics would say that fairytales fall under the romance genre; however, the truth is that readers of the romance genre are generally discerning and clever. We may like the happy ending guarantee, but there has to be a plot that makes us keep flipping the page.

If you are into nihilistic, post modern literature (IDEK what that means), this is the story arc you get. By the end of the book, you would either be insensate from alcohol imbibement to dull the existential pain or bleeding out into your bathtub/on your bed/some random surface from the neat, parallel cuts on your inner forearm.

Ah, Hamlet. Did he get justice for his father? Were all his sacrifice worth it? If you want to know what Vonnegut thought of Hamlet and Shakespeare's writing skills go to the site whence I ganked these graphs (which would be here).

Wax and Dye

In May, I had the privilege of perusing an exhibition showcasing the best of Teng's work at the National Art Gallery. Datuk Chuah Thean Teng was a batik painter, a technique adapted from the Nusantara artform of applying wax blocking and vegetable dye to print fabrics. He was a superb craftsman who mastered a varity of media; from wood block prints, ink on paper, metalwork, pastel and poster colour.

His portraits of lush and voluptuous female figures, tinted in rich colours brought to mind the raw sensuality of Gauguin. The delicacy of his brush strokes and the dreamy feel of his landscape brings to mind Henri Matisse. his bold and fantastical abstracts earned him the apellate of the Picasso of batik. He documented life in the village; heavily featuring female figures from bare-breasted aborigine women to the modest and retiring tudung clad Malay girls. His paintings narrated of a lifestyle that is no more, articulating the linkage between nurturing family, land and humanity.

Just to share some of my illicit snapshots and thoughts. My last visit has shown that the NAG is more stringent about photography in the galleries; signages and guards abound.


Observe the little girl in this painting; her scowling demeanour and heavy lips lending her a rather sinister cast. The long suffering patience of the mother. Except for the hair, it could have been my mother and I when I was a bratty child (still am, sadly).


The perspective of this picture is both unexpected and charming, no? The shadows contrasting with the bright colours of her sarong and the manically cheery sky ... I don't know what it is but I like it. The sultry air is almost visceral.


This is the mural he made for the Faculty of Agriculture of University of Malaya in 1960.

R.I.P. Teng. You will be missed.

Thanks a lot ...

You are a mathematical genius who was instrumental in breaking the codes used by your government's enemy to help win the second world war. Your brilliance helped pave the way of the modern theory of computation. How does your government repay you for your loyalty and service?

By chemically castrating you.

You can't get it up no more, humiliated by the witch hunt trial that ended your career by taking away the security clearance required to do your job and kill yourself at the age of 41.

Fifty five years later, the Government apologised. Gee, thanks, Mr Brown.

R.I.P. Alan Turing.

Belasungkawa: Yasmin Ahmad

Yasmin Ahmad was an extraordinary story teller. She became famous for her exquisite, subtle and sensitive holiday advertisement for the GLC giant Petronas. Her trademark quirky tales of ordinary citizens in everyday situation became a benchmark for advertisments and films. Bet that there will be a course on Yasmin Ahmad's film in cinema-making courses soon, if not already. The clip below was the last interview she made with StarOnline, detailing her thoughts and hopes for the country and her raison d'etre.



There was an uproar that Yasmin Ahmad did not start life as Yasmin. I don't think that is relevant at all unless you are prone to small-mindedness and titillating, self-righteous gossip. Dr Mohd Asri Zainul Abidin responded to this issue eloquently in his blog, giving us hope that not all religious scholars have a mindset stuck in mediaeval times (ILU Dr Asri!).

I think people forget that her legacy went beyond such pettiness. She left behind films and writings that made people think and look at the world differently. She lifted the veil that obscured us from seeing what made us the same and helped obliterate the differences between us as Malaysians, what ethnic group you may be. And that is a legacy that will continue to touch lives of people even years from now.

Goodbye, Yasmin. We will miss you and pray that God keep you always by His Side.