Monday, June 27, 2005
all boxed up
here's a pic that mr chia mmsed me, of my fragile box. the fruit of 9 months of labor- blood, sweat and tears ( though not necessarily all mine. also present are the combined bodily fluids of mr chia, mr lee and ms yeo, you guys are the tops:) its really tiny, i mean the photo, but when i go down for the press conference i'll take a better pic.
of course, i'm really proud its on exhibition. beats rotting away in dingy ar3-1, and getting cockroached beyond recognition, any day. but being proud about it eats me, cos i know its too spiffy. i havn't been down to see it, but the display was set before i was told, anyway. i imagine they gave it a good cleanup, and now its hanging with all its lids blaring open, under a spotlight. when its supposed to be a nightlight. i know its horrible to get all fussy and affected and artsy like about it, what with them putting in all the effort to make it look good and all, and accessible to the viewers, arms length or more away from prying kids for all our own goods, electrically economical and wired up to make logistic cents/ sense, but to me its a compromise of what i intended. in a way, ar3-1 would have been a fitting grave for that thing. some dingy, weedy ghetto, with lots of forgotten things that someone somewhere once spilled alot of bodily fluids for, all peeling and glowing yellow like a real horrorshow lantern. to borrow alex's slovo. but perhaps it is a fitting end to my so-called artistic education, which will go on show tomorrow, as it has always been. on show. what sort of a crap art student am i, anyway? i think i was a truer one when i was 7. i doodled on the mrt, colored every picture on my math testpaper, wrote my own stories and illustrated them on Notepad ( the highest-tech thing i could manage in 1993) and bound them into books to sell to dad's colleagues, that great rumpled leather couch of amused, patronizing and wrinked uncles who have since got more rumpled, or died. every week i spent the 4 slots on my library card ( plus the inevitable fines-- i loved them that much) on hideous jackson pollock and edvard munch ( the men, and the works) of free will, and wished i was japanese because i loved jap cartoon and copied them religiously . and then i became an Art Elective Program Student, and became highly trained in the art of talk. i specialise in writing essays and telling people that design is my passion and i'll do it someday. which is what i'm gonna be doing tomorrow. whenever i think about it, about how, even if i went to parsons it would be for show, i feel so frustrated. if i had the power to, i would change the aep program, and change it radically. if i were honest enough, i would say all the wrong things in the press conference. but i can't, cos i'm supposed to be a member of the elite. chosen for the gift of saying all the right things the right way. so exactly, exactly like my box, right outside, wrong inside and always trying to be wrong in the right way. i read youthink, and i just know i'm trapped thinking out of the box in the box, instead of in the box out of the box. i'm such a fake, will someone please arrest me?
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