Thursday, December 18, 2008
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
On Balloons In The Middle East
From the "Aperture 27,000" exhibition of contemporary Palestinian photography, in London from the 15th of Jan @ Le Violon Bleu, 23 Maddox Street , London , W1S 2QN. (info via Naysan R.)
On The Brilliance Of The Handmade
2 nights ago, i made miso soup.
Ok, I know there isnt much to miso soup in terms of ingredients, but there is a particular sort of mysticism associated with it because noone actually knows what it actually is. Its one of those things i would only ever think to eat at a Japanese restaurant. Where else would you find miso soup? And i've never even heard of anyone who isnt japanese and knows how to make it at home, let alone does.
Anyway, from time to time, i figure out how to make foods that i initially presume are un-recreate-able. The satisfaction derived from this discovery of the recreate-ability of my favourite things is (almost) unparalleled--"things" because for at least 24 hours after Kimia showed me how to make a hardcover fabric bound notebook from scratch, i was literally unable to contain my sheer delight for the whole process and my obsession with the exquisite final product.
In the same light, i wish i knew how to carpet weave. Because i would recreate this insanely awesome handwoven wall-hanging. By Paul Smith for The Rug Company.
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
On Cycles
I have recently come to realise what i presume is a fairly obvious phenomenon to the rest of the human race: that without cycles, everything dwells undifferentiated amidst everything else on a plateau-like plain of anarchic craziness. A place sans-cycles is a place of muddled incomprehensibility.
Of course, nature obviates such a realisation by way of binding us to inescapable biological laws. Yet at a microcosmic scale, this understanding of cyclic necessity seems to not have crystallised as organically in my mind for some reason.
The realisation that led me to this realisation of the awesomeness of the cycle is that, daily "to do list"s comprised of all things needing doing in all facets of one's life at any given point in time are physically impossible to execute. When all priorities assume equal roles on paper*, they cease to exists as "priorities" by very definition of the word. The result is a perpetual state of panicked anxiety, gravely taxing of one's faith in one's self, and, eventually, if left unattended, the world at large.
It was somewhere amidst this kerfuffle that i took a minute to reassess matters, and it didnt take long before memories of years of my father's insistent scheduling advice peeped its head and refused to retract it again. The Art Of Compartmentalising isnt something im at all well-versed in, but my father is (i feel it might also be a phenomenon more common among the male species) and it is quite clear to me now that one must practice and perfect it in order to tick off one's "to do"s in any sort of systematic, effective and satisfying fashion.
There are loads of scheduling systems and schemas and schools of thought from which to choose, but one week for each "to do", on cyclic rotation, is the preferred scheme for the time being, the "to do"s in question being those more serious ones, like "finish 3 books half-read on bedside table", rather than, say, "clean room".
*as a figure of speech; "to do list"s need not be physically penned pieces of stationery. Indeed, the most notorious are those which float around ominously in one's conscious wakefulness, and subconscious sleep(fulness?) alike.
Figure 1.
A cycle/s that is seriously awesome is the Baha'i Calendar. Here are the names of the months:
Splendour
Glory
Beauty
Grandeur
Light
Mercy
Words
Perfection
Names
Might
Will
Knowledge
Power
Speech
Questions (currently in)
Honour
Sovereignty
Dominion
Loftiness
Monday, December 15, 2008
On friends of friends
I have a work friend, Helen
Who has a good friend, Rupert (Truman)
Who made friends with Storm (Thorgerson)
Who fell in love with photography
And together made album covers for great bands
And were brilliant at it
And somewhat genius
And decided to come to Sydney
And hold an exhibition
Which Rupert told Helen about
Which Helen told me about
Which is how i found myself there on Thursday night
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