23 February 2013 @ 9:05 AM
1 year ago
17 February 2013 @ 3:08 AM
tags:
#help
#locallad
locallad replied to your photo: NTU students or Singaporeans, if you would like to…

Nice! You did it eh!

thanks! yep I did, omg do you know how to reply to a reply on tumblr without it being a separate post? :o

1 year ago
11 February 2013 @ 8:36 AM
11 February 2013 :: 30 Rabiulawal 1434H

11 February 2013 :: 30 Rabiulawal 1434H

1 year ago
27 January 2013 @ 2:15 AM

eid

1 year ago
26 January 2013 @ 11:57 PM
Hey Bergumbira!

Hey Bergumbira!

1 year ago
10 January 2013 @ 7:27 AM


Intimation/Intimidation
conflict/religion

This piece is inspired by the seemingly blurred out line between religion and conflict. I wanted to show the duality of Muslim clothing article, in this case the most identifiable one, the hijab, chador, prayer veil.

How within a solitary premise for instance, conversations with God, it exhibits purity and devotion. The apparel marks a unity and “oneness” amongst the sisterhood (ummah). However, by this clothing article too, within the premise of secularity, they are easy targets of judgmental platitudes. How classification, identification and collectivism are easily brought forth. The “oneness” is pronounced here too, except by perceptions formed from the opposite spectrum.

The subject is on the bed as the bed holds vast connotations. Bed is often associated with death, frailty, isolation, vulnerability or solace. The bed too, offers another dimension; one that borders on vulgar and delinquent boundaries. I wanted to juxtapose the idea of sanctity and the profane. How we choose to allow preconceived notions dictate our personal judgement. How we choose to taint something venerable to something odious. How we choose to focus on the religious signifier instead of the entity as individuals.

Till we are ready to set aside judgments, these flowers will shy away.

Exhibited at Pingyao International Festival 2012

1 year ago
3 January 2013 @ 10:30 AM

In my introspection of Singapore’s landscape, I decided to work on something pertaining to the en-bloc scheme for HDB flats. It appears to be that in the tussle between manufactured and natural landscape, authentic nature is not the only at the bottom of the totem pole, but also the powerless, amongst us citizens. This vicious phenomenon coerced the movement of not only physical departures but also of nostalgia and historical attachments. The objective is to convey a sense of lost and displacement. I grew up at this particular site during my childhood. The flawed sketch comes from the recollection of a child’s perspective. It hinges on the idea of ephemerality in our landscape, one that sheds its skin too fast a pace, we can’t afford to hold onto. Once inhabited by people, now inhabited by mere memories.Graphic ink on negative. Shanghai 100 / 4 x 5 Film
In my introspection of Singapore’s landscape, I decided to work on something pertaining to the en-bloc scheme for HDB flats. It appears to be that in the tussle between manufactured and natural landscape, authentic nature is not the only at the bottom of the totem pole, but also the powerless, amongst us citizens. This vicious phenomenon coerced the movement of not only physical departures but also of nostalgia and historical attachments.

The objective is to convey a sense of lost and displacement. I grew up at this particular site during my childhood. The flawed sketch comes from the recollection of a child’s perspective. It hinges on the idea of ephemerality in our landscape, one that sheds its skin too fast a pace, we can’t afford to hold onto.

Once inhabited by people, now inhabited by mere memories.

Graphic ink on negative.
Shanghai 100 / 4 x 5 Film
1 year ago
1 January 2013 @ 8:48 AM

Only A Small Space Separates A Part From Apart A diptych to illustrate my sentiments towards the manufactured landscapes of Singapore. The inevitable encroachment of Man into this natural spaces. The intertwining synergy of the manufactured and the authentic, where it all revolves around the progression of Man. I wanted the whole process to be erratic, raw and organic hence the inclusion of the watermarks, literally paving inroads into the negatives. I feel that it is also important to show this great divide, between the manufactured worlds between the inhabitants of HDB residences and the land of the private properties. There is this placement of gaze; conscious or subconscious in intent, there will always be this looking upon. A boundary or perhaps, a lurch of hope across the concrete window. A distance to delineate, a distance to operate.

Only A Small Space Separates A Part From Apart

A diptych to illustrate my sentiments towards the manufactured landscapes of Singapore. The inevitable encroachment of Man into this natural spaces. The intertwining synergy of the manufactured and the authentic, where it all revolves around the progression of Man. I wanted the whole process to be erratic, raw and organic hence the inclusion of the watermarks, literally paving inroads into the negatives.

I feel that it is also important to show this great divide, between the manufactured worlds between the inhabitants of HDB residences and the land of the private properties. There is this placement of gaze; conscious or subconscious in intent, there will always be this looking upon. A boundary or perhaps, a lurch of hope across the concrete window. A distance to delineate, a distance to operate.

1 year ago
7 December 2012 @ 10:20 AM

My ear drums can contain
But only the ringing of defeat,
muffled by the waves crashing on my two feet.
Distracted by the wails from the sirens of modernity,
the cries of vices, unfamiliar places
pounding on the empty shells of serenity.
The hails of the prayers kill the requiem of dawn
placidity now, a rare thorn

In haste of the chase, I forgot the Qibla of my heart
In the haze of the maze, I let the Mihrab crumble apart

Monumental stillness, Raging calmness

Empty , blasphemy.
Lost, heed the caution
losing my religion, food for the ocean
drowning in fire, freezing as they burn

Helter-skelter, prayer in order

I have to run for cover,
under shelter
between the surahs of my Quran
before the professions of your kalimah
within the inflections of our adhān

But the sirens invaded my head, creeping closer to the shores of my heart.
Ravenous, smearing stains all over my Shahada , pouring sand into this cut

1 year ago