"Two reasons: one, I wouldn't go through the pressure and publicity I went through with To Kill A Mockingbird for any amount of money. 


Second, I have said what I wanted to say and I will not say it again."


- Harper Lee on why she never wrote again.

"casting the invisible"

"In his installation, reverse of volume RG at the Rice Gallery in Houston Texas, Yasuaki Onishi uses the simplest materials — plastic sheeting and black hot glue — to create a monumental, mountainous form that appears to float in space. The process that he calls “casting the invisible” involves draping the plastic sheeting over stacked cardboard boxes, which are then removed to leave only their impressions. This process of “reversing” sculpture is Onishi’s meditation on the nature of the negative space, or void, left behind.

Onishi wanted to create an installation that would change as visitors approached and viewed it from outside of the glass wall to inside the gallery space. Seen through the glass, the undulating, exterior surface and dense layers of vertical black strands are primarily visible. At first glance, standing in the center of the gallery’s foyer, it appears to be a suspended, glowing mass whose exact depth is difficult to perceive. Upon entering the gallery and walking along the left or the right side, the installation transforms into an airy opening that can be entered. Almost like stepping into an inner sanctum or cave-like chamber, the semi-translucent plastic sheeting and wispy strands of hot glue envelop the viewer in a fragile, tent-like enclosure speckled with inky black marks. Visitors can walk in and out of the contemplative space, observing how the simplest qualities of light, shape, and line change."


via beautiful decay

random photo found online.

i am alone. i get extremely lonely sometimes. the cicatrix is forming but it's knitting too slowly. god knows i've craved for it to nullify the ugly wound it's supposed to cover, to veil. one could try to board up the past... but there it is. its invisible presence weighs more heavily on the soul than what is opaque.

despite everything, i know where i stand now is a better place than before. it's a place still ridden with ugly wounds to be sure. but right now, right now, i'll embrace the flowers and everything they signify; i've never realized how beautiful this could be, but i'm coming round to it.

“Maybe," he said hesitantly, "maybe there is a beast... What I mean is, maybe it's only us.” 


- Lord Of The Flies, William Golding

Sam touched a scratch on his forehead and then hurriedly took his hand away. Eric fingered his split lip. "Yes. We were very tired," repeated Sam, "so we left early. Was it a good -"

The air was heavy with unspoken knowledge. Sam twisted and the obscene word shot out of him. "- dance?"

Memory of the dance that none of them had attended shook all four boys convulsively. 

"We left early."

- Lord of the Flies, William Golding

Christopher Shannon collage print sweatshirt

perhaps the biggest reason behind the slow expansion of my wardrobe would be my own fastidiousness; i really don't like to settle. i want an article of clothing to drive me crazy with longing and fulfill ALL areas of criteria before i go for it. i used to entertain this ridiculous notion of myself as a "shopaholic" but i realised that i was too nitpickety with what i purchase to qualify as one. meagre purse strings does endow one with somewhat of a stricter eye..

the gorgeous geometric proportions of all the various rectangular blocks, the duality of the beautiful photo.. this sweatshirt from Christopher Shannon does the job almost too well.

Suddenly I know a lot about fountains,
those incomprehensible trees of glass.
I could talk now as of my own tears,
which I, gripped by such fantastic dreaming,
spilled once and then somehow forgot.


Could I forget that the heavens reach hands
toward many things and into this commotion?
Did I not always see unrivaled greatness
in the ascent of old parks before the soft
expectant evenings - in pale chants
arising out of unknown girls
and overflowing out of the melody
and becoming real, and as if they must be
mirrored in the opened ponds?


I must only remind myself of all
that happened both with fountains and with me, -
then I feel also the weight of the descent,
in which I saw again the waters:
and know of branches that bent downwards,
of voices that burned with small flames,
of ponds that, feeble-minded and shunted off,
repeated endlessly their sharp-edged banks;
of evening skies, which from charred western forests
stepped back totally bewildered,
arched differently, darkened, and acted
as though this were not the world they had envisioned...


Could I forget that star flanking star grows hard
and shuts itself against its neighbor globe?
That the worlds in space only recognize each other
as if through tears? - Perhaps we are above,
woven into the skies of other beings
who gaze toward us at evening. Perhaps their
poets praise us. Perhaps some of them
pray up toward us. Perhaps we are the aim
of strange curses that never reach us,
neighbours of a god whom their envision
in our heights when they weep alone,
whom they believe in and whom they lose,
and whose image, like a gleam from their
seeking lamps, fleeting and then gone,
passes over our scattered faces...


About Fountains - Rainer Maria Rilke

*

gleaned this Wei Fen Lee's facebook page.. she'd posted a strand from the poem "perhaps we are above, woven into the skies of other beings who gaze up toward us". intrigued, i went to look it up.. i was rewarded with About Fountains. i love how he dabs on a layer of humanly mien over objects which are otherwise inanimate.


i was just telling kelly the other night, how i use passages and excerpts of books on my profiles - without listing the author - as a manner of sifting. i suppose it would be considered passive-aggressive; the individual who, chancing upon my profile, readily identifies the uncredited passage/excerpt because he loves the book too. to possess the knowledge would be to possess the right disposition? most people would ridicule me for that; after all, what are the odds?! 


but we can't help it, can we?