actually, what the hell is the difference. all they did was put the sidebar on the left. sheesh

still sense

Too big, she said

and He picked her up

with His Too big hands

and brought her Too far.


Too small, she said

and He brought in another one

Too close, she said

and He put her back

from His Too big hands

and she said, Too far.


then both were with her
in His suddenly not Too big hands
and they weren't Too far, or Too close, or Too small, or Too big, and I'd like to stay just here, she said, and fell asleep. warmth of His hands under her little self, still. rustle of little leaves with her breathing, His breathing.

quotidie: remarkably ordinary (march)

quotidie
060 : 3.01

i've passed by this street a few times going to central london. i think it's piccadilly, or some other known street in the area. these paintings go on for the length of almost a whole park, propped up on the iron railings surrounding it.

there must be at least a hundred of them, and i'm bad at estimation. when i have enough money, i'm going to buy a painting from there. there are some beautiful abstract ones.

i'm not sure if i'd like to sell my art on the streets in the future. in the past it was a wistful, romantic thought, being a nomad artist. but my experiences with street artists (including musicians) of late, mainly today as well, have shaken the nerve that dared to dream that. why is it that they always demand something of me? Don't take photos, Give me money. it's like saying Don't look, Don't appreciate, This is my world not yours.

i'm sorry, i thought art was a movement, not property.

and there i was thinking that this month would go a little slower.

each day didn't feel slow at all, although now as i compile the photos for this album and see the photo from march 1, it feels So Long Ago. like century ago. ages.

march was doubly packed because of The Saturday School, a programme conducted by the Wimbledon College of Art for prospective university students. with my experience there i think it's safe to say that i'm doing at least my foundation course in art with WCA. the AS Level art exam started this month too, which proved to be a struggle in the beginning. i think i'm on better ground now though, after 5 weeks of preparation. i'm really behind in prep work but the easter break should help me with that.

and last but not least: the return to film. i've been getting fragments of memory of what it was like to shoot with film. and last night, i brought back to life my dad's EOS 88. the first camera i ever used as a kid. i pressed the shutter release once, and watched as the curtain shut and opened again, like eyelids in movies. my jaw dropped. hahaha.

my photos are becoming more ordinary, i think.

lightpaintbrush at flickr

SEBASTIAN FAULKS / Birdsong

   
    He looked into the face of the man who stood in front of him and his fists went up from his sides like those of a farm boy about to fight.
    At some deep level, far below anything his exhausted mind could reach, the conflicts of his soul dragged through him like waves grating on the packed shingle of a beach. The sound of his life calling to him on a distant road; the faces of the men who had been slaughtered, the closed eyes of Michael Weir in his coffin; his scalding hatred of the enemy, of Max and all the men who had brought him to this moment; the flesh and love of Isabelle, and the eyes of her sister.
    Far beyond thought, the resolution came to him and he found his arms, still raised, begin to spread and open.
    Levi looked at this wild-eyed figure, half-demented, his brother’s killer. For no reason he could tell, he found that he had opened his own arms in turn, and the two men fell upon each other’s shoulders, weeping at the bitter strangeness of their human lives.

quotidie: remarkably ordinary (february)

quotidie
032 : 2.01

it's been snowing tonight, and will be snowing some more tomorrow and later on in the week ahead.

i like the bright night effect. i like how the air is still and feels so clean after snowfall. i like how the snow piles up on something in perfect shape. and there's the feeling of snow between my fingers, soft and delicate like powder.

it started snowing when we were on our way to mass at around 6:25pm. we hadn't brought hats or anything, so we had to walk in the snow from the car to the church doors. liana went absolutely crazy, laughing and skipping and delighting in this gentle frozen rain.

upon reaching home again after mass, i got my camera and she put a coat on and she slid around. this is her twirling.


this month was made of snow, deadlines, an important realization in perception and a whole new level of ordinariness.

tonight i realize how significant each piece of this project is, each month changing the face of it. how will this month's photos contrast the next? how will it connect? does it mark the beginning of a trend, or an end of one?


lightpaintbrush at flickr

Sir Ken Robinson: Do schools kill creativity?

so i'm three years late. but better to have found it now than never.

in light pursuit of inspiration for my art exam that's starting next week, i found this. what an amazing find.

i read some of the comments on the site where the video was originally posted, and experienced great realization.

can you imagine that this whole world we live in is in conflict just exactly as much as it has repressed creativity?

quotidie: remarkably ordinary (pilot week)

quotidie
pilot week
day 1

our aunt's house didn't have a Christmas tree, so the Christmas tree decorations went onto the lamps instead.

this photo speaks of nothing extravagant of a day that is celebrated worldwide, prepared for for months, sung about for centuries. this photo isn't a massive Christmas tree, or a sumptuous dinner laid out on a table with candles.

but it does speak of an extravagant spirit. it speaks of grandeur in small packages. of makeshift homes and the heart over circumstance.

it speaks of the Light that came into the world on this day: grandeur that came down as a baby and a cold stable turned cozy by spirits of faith.

--------------------------------------------------------------------
quotidie: remarkably ordinary
this is the beginning of my photo project that officially starts in a week: 2009.
just a photo a day. the title of the project is enough to explain its purpose.
please pray for this, because it's not easy for me to produce a photograph that i like, let alone produce one each day.

the pilot week exists for a few reasons:
1. because i was quite terrified anticipating the first of january and the beginning of my lesson in discipline and commitment to a self-initiated project, and
2. because i was equally excited and could not wait to begin.



lightpaintbrush at flickr

quotidie: remarkably ordinary (january)

quotidie
001: 1.01

this first day of the year went by rather sluggishly and void of inspiration. today is also my father's birthday. so when we reached the end of sutton high street, passing by almost all shops closed, thus leaving us with no hot scrumptious food that my mother had ideally planned... my mother was in despair. it enveloped her and it was difficult to withstand and definitely not a way to start the new year. long story short this day didn't go as planned at all. but it did end peacefully, watching The Family Stone on television and hot cocoa.

the year-end holiday season is the least accommodating for introspection, despite it being the most appropriate. family affairs of food and gatherings and travelling time leave little space for thought at the end of the day, what with us feeling full and exhausted and with too much noise in the immediate environment. the only time i was able to stop and reflect was before sleeping past 1am on the first day of the year, texting my best friend. or, scratch that, that term doesn't quite cut it (and it has bad memories tied to it anyway), what should i call you maisee?

i did not think much about the people that have come and gone,. i did not think much about the friendships i have lost, found, and restored. i did not think much of my own growth this year - although i think i've done a fair bit throughout, actually.

but i did think of This. This that fills the photograph. and i realize that everything else falls under It. falls into place because of It.

and i don't think there's any better way to start the year than to keep sight of the Light that is going to get us through it.

-

i took several shots of this, and managed to cut it down to just two. they were almost identical, except for the slight change in angle. this was chosen because He looks like He's looking up, or rising... instead of looking down.

so this is the year-long photo project that i've committed to for this year.

it started on december 25, 2008, to give me a week before the actual beginning, as a pilot week, album of which i will put up separately.

i did not dive into this with any structure except:
1. bring camera everywhere
2. take photos every day, completely regardless of weather or any other cirucmstance
3. write about it and put it up on flickr every day, completely regardless of weather or any other circumstance.


so far, it's been brilliant. this is truly one of the most fruitful things i've been led to do in my life so far. i never thought i could put up with getting a photo i was satisfied every single day, much less write at least one paragraph about it.

but here it is, 31 photos for each day of the month of january, all with at least a paragraph - in the description of each photo, so it would be nice to go through them one by one if you're interested :) - woven as an integral part of each photograph.


lightpaintbrush at flickr

24: on faith and science

i wonder what God's trying to tell me right now.

today, thursday, for the second day in a row this week, i was swept into heated debate concerning religion. "you don't believe in evolution. you don't believe in evolution." a boy named josh laughed. as he spoke from across the coffee tables in the sixth form common room he balanced his chair on its two hind legs, and was constantly swinging back and forth. it made me quite dizzy. round the group everyone so loudly discussed that when a boy from the other end tried to ask me something, i had to shake my head, point to my left ear and mouth the words I Can't Hear You.

josh went on and on, shooting questions like "so how do you explain..." and making grand conclusions like "it's rational thinking!" (with a momentous drop of his chair back on its four legs). for about an hour he went, confident of what he was saying and of the knowledge he possessed. and i had no doubt that he had his facts right, there is research that supports evolution. i answered questions that were asked of me, like why i believe in the first place and what makes me think it's true. but i was not interested in disproving him. "blind faith," he scoffed. "it's not rational."

my only stance was that he couldn't disprove the existence of God, that faith wasn't meant to be rational, that his success in this 'debate' would not change anything except perhaps his boosted ego. my only stance throughout was that i wasn't even trying to debate with him in the first place. "so call me irrational," i said. "maybe i'm crazy. and i don't care."

in the few moments i was given to think to myself while he went on about science, i realized how sad his life was. how small his world was. how confined, how bound he was to facts, and answers, and rational thinking. they argued that religion was a mere mechanism of the human mind to generate answers to its own questions, despite the fact that their own foundation of scientific belief existed for the same thing: to answer questions. why does the apple fall from the tree? how far away is the sun? why is there night and day? science was born from mystery, and still can't answer the question of whether the chicken came before the egg or not.

in comparison, faith preserves the mystery more than it tries to tear it to pieces. faith magnifies the mystery. faith is the mystery.

the girl who had started the debate by saying, "only God can judge me," (which received a round of laughter round the group) couldn't say much besides the fact that she believed, so all the questions were shot at me. then she left in the heat of it because she had to take an exam. and for a moment i didn't think i could stay on and converse with this science brain who couldn't open his mind even a fraction of a centimeter: i was no theologian, i have not read the Bible cover to cover and much less have extensive historical background about it. i didn't have the photographic memory to remember certain things i have read that are relevant, there is only one chunk of text and sprinkled verses from the bible that have been etched in my mind. all i was sure of was the heart inside me that believed, with eyes, i was small.

for a little more than an hour this went on, and it was quite chaotic. the chairs were arranged in rectangular fashion and the length of space in between the two sides were just enough for two pairs of legs and a coffee table. claustrophobic, it felt like being in a prison where everyone thought they were eternally condemned and fervently made heard their discontent. (an interesting but disturbing scene: "we came from apes! we came from apes!") i was thankful for my seat near the corner where i had two empty seats on either side of me (after the girl had left).

i was even more thankful for the boy who sat beside the science brain josh. he was slumped in his chair, looking downwards in front of him. he didn't say much save for some words in support of what i had said, and "there is a God." he wore a long necklace with a cross pendant hanging from it, it was shiny and stood out from his all-black outfit. he wore the face of the silent "this is bullshit." i ran into his gaze often, and every time he caught mine, his gaze would lock and he would shake his head as if to say with his gray eyes, "don't buy it." it's always a comfort to feel i am not alone.


and in true God fashion, the New Creation devotional i get through email says this today:

"... The devil goes about like a roaring lion trying to stir up fear in people with his roars. But the people who are not devourable are those who refuse to be intimidated by his roars because they know that the true Lion of Judah, Jesus Christ (Revelation 5:5), has already come and rendered powerless him who had the power of death. (Hebrews 2:14, NASB) They know that the devil cannot just do anything to them because the Lion of Judah resides in them, and that He is greater than the devil who is in the world. (1 John 4:4)

... Once the devil knows that you know who you are in Christ and what you have in Him, his days of intimidating you are over, and you are numbered among the undevourable!"

the two discussions i have had within two days this week have such a stark contrast. the one before this surrounded me with more open minds and was a lot more ethical when it came to listening. yesterday, for the first time, felt like a personal testimony. i merely listened to myself speak. and in the light of that, today i realized just how much truth doesn't need to be proven. that even me of little faith believing in truth entails the feeling that it simply radiates. that truth preempts everything else.