It's been awhile since I posted here. I've been busy moving to my new pad. It took me a long time to find one since my requirement to my agent was to get a big, empty place with my plan of turning it into a studio I can access anytime. So apart from the boxes that came from my old house, new boxes came into the new crib from furniture shops. So for two weeks, I¹ve been busy packing stuff and unpacking even more stuff.
It's amazing how much you can accumulate in a few years. I hoard. That's my sin. I even collect used film canisters that other people normally throw away in the rubbish.
I collect small scrap of tattered papers (or shoeboxes) that Leon used as his meandering journals in his first few attempts of putting his thoughts into writing. I have his scribbles that eventually turned to comprehensible words like "hir is my rox skul - leon rox - time closd at 5." A sentence he managed to compose after watching the movie called School of Rock. It is also possible that I still have every dinosaur drawings that he painted on paper which he gave me since his dino obsession started.
I found a lost photo - my first portrait shoot ever of mimi when she was just 18 and my Dalmatian dog named Demi. I lost it for more than a decade. It's back with me now.
I found my Dad's letter when I told him about my plan of devoting my life to political struggle - a beautifully written piece about life - using an old typewriter, complete with uneven blotches of ink from a well-used typewriter ribbon.
Reading the letter long time ago was confusing, now it's a pleasure. Then, I was a young student involved with politics and spouting out rhetoric on liberty and equality. He ended the letter with a very apt line: "pray, for that, too, shall set you free." An advise that puzzled me then but which I now hold dear.
Incidentally, while I hoard, my father is the opposite.
He makes the concept of travelling light feel very heavy. He is "transient living" realised. It's amazing because his work entails him to move from place to place a lot of time. But he does so with such economy that he appears to be passing through. He doesn't hang anything on walls and his tables are all in its most essential form. He leaves a place the way he found it.
I tried doing that too. Many times. And failed spectacularly many times too. When I travel, I travel with megatons of bags. By the time my cameras, lenses, batteries, chargers, cleaning kits, back-ups and laptop go in the bag, I couldn't feel my arms anymore. By the time my strobe lights, light stands, back-up lights, sine converter and backdrop kit are in their respective cases, I'm beyond the airline luggage limit. And I haven't started with my clothes yet.
I just like to keep things near me in case I have needs for them later. And that entails hoarding.
Maybe that's the reason why I crave taking pictures and my father doesn't. Photography is another way of hoarding. Except you collect moments in time.
And with time, there's just so much to hoard, and so little, well, time. Click.
It's amazing how much you can accumulate in a few years. I hoard. That's my sin. I even collect used film canisters that other people normally throw away in the rubbish.
I collect small scrap of tattered papers (or shoeboxes) that Leon used as his meandering journals in his first few attempts of putting his thoughts into writing. I have his scribbles that eventually turned to comprehensible words like "hir is my rox skul - leon rox - time closd at 5." A sentence he managed to compose after watching the movie called School of Rock. It is also possible that I still have every dinosaur drawings that he painted on paper which he gave me since his dino obsession started.
I found a lost photo - my first portrait shoot ever of mimi when she was just 18 and my Dalmatian dog named Demi. I lost it for more than a decade. It's back with me now.
I found my Dad's letter when I told him about my plan of devoting my life to political struggle - a beautifully written piece about life - using an old typewriter, complete with uneven blotches of ink from a well-used typewriter ribbon.
Reading the letter long time ago was confusing, now it's a pleasure. Then, I was a young student involved with politics and spouting out rhetoric on liberty and equality. He ended the letter with a very apt line: "pray, for that, too, shall set you free." An advise that puzzled me then but which I now hold dear.
Incidentally, while I hoard, my father is the opposite.
He makes the concept of travelling light feel very heavy. He is "transient living" realised. It's amazing because his work entails him to move from place to place a lot of time. But he does so with such economy that he appears to be passing through. He doesn't hang anything on walls and his tables are all in its most essential form. He leaves a place the way he found it.
I tried doing that too. Many times. And failed spectacularly many times too. When I travel, I travel with megatons of bags. By the time my cameras, lenses, batteries, chargers, cleaning kits, back-ups and laptop go in the bag, I couldn't feel my arms anymore. By the time my strobe lights, light stands, back-up lights, sine converter and backdrop kit are in their respective cases, I'm beyond the airline luggage limit. And I haven't started with my clothes yet.
I just like to keep things near me in case I have needs for them later. And that entails hoarding.
Maybe that's the reason why I crave taking pictures and my father doesn't. Photography is another way of hoarding. Except you collect moments in time.
And with time, there's just so much to hoard, and so little, well, time. Click.
posted by jury at
7:08 AM
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