The New Kitchen

it was exactly last november when i saw a girlfriend’s newly renovated kitchen, all in purest whites, aqua marine and blueish greys with sparkling highlights  –  just stunning.

and out of the depth of my core it came with a roar: i want one too. as a matter of fact, i actually need one.

of course it will have to be out of a modern flat pack. you go to the store and first you get a catalogue  that guides you to do the arranging of benches, tops, drawers, cabinets etc etc to your heart’s desire. measure twice before you order!

it looks easier than done, because that layout…. those corner cabinets….. what a nightmare! i just couldn’t grasp, could not get my head around it!

so then, to ease the horror and the terror, i stood to let a designer do the creating. it was a decision for the better. the cost will be part of the deal if i’ll order.

now this designer had magic in her device. in the comfort of my old kitchen she pulled some ledgers and added this and added that from her application and within an enjoyable hour i saw in front of me a perfectly architectural drawing ready to hand over to the builder. a sheer miracle i thought.

the colour scheme was easy, the cabinets are to be in antique white, taranade with plenty of character for the bench top and a glassy tawny panel for the splashback. i just can’t wait.

the flat pack will be ready in one week; it will take the builder hardly a day to install. and the price you might wonder, well, i went for fairly cheap. its but a small kitchen to be. still, i mean, its all relative.

then, once i actually dared to order, i will live with it for evermore.

 

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a rough idea of the colour scheme

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the bench top is darker and the view is better !

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a good life

even on a rainy day, one must have a life

that goes for me and the young son in that tuc tuc

as i was sitting at my window in my hotel room with a view
i enjoyed myself taking pictures of life as it went by underneath my window
of the first floor, because it was a rainy day, the end of the monsoon season

i noticed that tuc tuc across the road trying to sell cold softdrinks

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not a good business on a sombre day like this
how long will they stay there and try to make their living, i wondered

zooming in i noticed this boy having a good time just for himself
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mind you, there was his sister and his mother, all having a good time
and i had a good time too
all day long

rainy day

i’m sure i only saw them sell one can, that’s how the story of these visual images goes

 

images:: phnom penh, nov 2017

 

 

Trills? Shrills more likely

 

When have I heard the trill of sweet western birds last? A pleasure long forgotten.

Now I live in the lands of harsh sounding screaming birds. Every morning, it must come from their innermost hearts, they send out their loudest piercing shrill towards heaven, as if to greet dawn. As if to wake up the world. Then they fly through dawn’s early colors, circle the trees as if in love with their nightly resting place. As if weaving a spell over their domain to stay safe and to still be there when they’ll return at dusk. Then they disappear for the day.

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They return just as the light turns grey. The first shrieks seem to assure the flock, yes, our trees are still here, come now, come all, lets praise the day gone by and settle in for the night. Then the air is filled once more with loud harsh shrieks and screams, hundreds of throats screech and croak, endlessly, loud, until the last one of them found its nook in the heights of the trees. All against the blackening sky. Finally they ruff their feathers as if having a bath and the rest of the world can go on with life. The nocturnal anyway.

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Not a trill, but a thrill. Often I find their white feathers, young fluffy ones and ones ready to be used as quills, underneath the mighty gums.

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Speak softly, love and hold me warm against your heart
I feel your words, the tender trembling moments start
We’re in a world, our very own
Sharing a love that only few have ever known
Wine-colored days warmed by the sun
Deep velvet nights when we are one
Speak softly, love so no one hears us but the sky
The vows of love we make will live until we die
My life is yours and all because
You came into my world with love so softly love
Wine-colored days warmed by the sun
Deep velvet nights when we are one
Speak softly, love so no one hears us but the sky
The vows of love we make will live until we die
My life is yours and all because
You came into my world with love so softly love

No Purpose Club

Dear Kay,

I am powerful. I have no remorse. I was given birth by God himself, for being something intense, something fierce. Circumstances made me bump into the devil. I lost my Big Brother in a gunfight. I lost my other Brother too. I ordered his murder. Cruel ain’t I? But I stick firm to my reasons. I can’t tolerate treachery, you know, everyone should know. Even if I have to see my Mother’s pale, maddening face seeing her favorite child’s carcass. Maybe once I was a chocolate faced, ideal, simple man. But today I have to be powerful. I can’t have any remorse.

My Father, oh, my dear Papa, jittery now. Unable to reign the empire of our establishments. I don’t give him the blame for burdening the sacks on my back. He had no choice. He never wanted this for me. Never ever. He wanted me…

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Silence of the Gods

Silence is when the gods stop talking.
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Silence is when the sun burns down onto scorched stone that hot that even lichen stop growing. Birds stop flying.
Not one foot wants to be set infront of the other, eyes can see the air flicker. Sweat being silently spilled is the only motion detectable.

 

photo::  Bayon, Angkor Thom, Siem Reap, Cambodia
credit::  eve-jonjo

Undulating Light

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Beyeler Museum, Pratteln, Switzerland, March 2017, a multi-media exhibition

Imagine the image on the canvas waning and waxing without the canvas moving. Undulating like a lazy wave. A lazy frequency coming towards you and going again. Very slowly, very comforting and soothing.

The room had an eerie muffled no-sound which made my ears feel very large. The installation fascinated me. What is it? I stood there mesmerized without thinking, letting this unknown movement taking me to LaLaLand.

I stood there for a long time before I also took my turn to visit the space behind the canvas where all was revealed and the magic lost its spell. I tended to say that it was a back projection – wrong.

Imagine a huge ice cube about the size of a big bucket. The ice was scooped out in the center to leave a funnel with the last bit of ice left at the end as a wall. This funnel was suspended by ropes from the ceiling to make it free moving, backwards and forwards, slowly and in the middle of the funnel was a static light bulb emerged.

Artist’s name forgotten.