Friday, November 21, 2008

"For you, a thousand times over."

I googled this phrase and found scores of blogs with the same title. It rings like a bell; high pitched, resonant. It doesn't let you go.

The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini, is a novel that evokes every possible human emotion in its reader. The praise that this book has acclaimed is warranted and it is one of those books you need to read at least twice. I started reading this book almost a year ago and stopped short of a hundred pages. I felt as though I was witnessing and warranting a gross inhuman crime by reading it; I was in Amir's shoes, watching painfully as the story unfolded. I had to leave this book, for a another time. A time when I would be better prepared to feel this pain.

I just finished reading the last few pages of this book today. I cried. And smiled too. I can't possibly write a review to justify The Kite Runner. It is an intense translation of human thought, feeling and action. It is the voice of a conscience, questioning and understanding loyalty, justice, disgrace and courage. It is no different from us, yet it is not us.

A journey of life and love summed up in a line- "For you, a thousand times over."

Monday, October 13, 2008

apologies

i am appalled at the grammar in my previous post. when my brain fires thoughts faster than my fingers can type the sentences get all blurry. i'll be making the amendments soon. in the meantime, apologies for the atrocious grammar :), although i hope the message carries across. 

Sunday, October 12, 2008

"the texture of memories"

i was at a talk by Dinh Q Le on his artistic adventure as a photographer with a story to tell. the tapestry that he employs in depicting the woven layers that make up our lives. especially highlighting the threads of history that make up our present. the duality expressed in these works creates a platform for interpretation and appreciation. and i must say the thought and presentation of these ideas are capable of stirring social movements.

one concept that moved me entirely was the exhibition "the texture of memories" and the emotions that a white, white on white exhibition can evoke. to elaborate, he conceived the idea after learning that women who were not clinically blind, were unable to see. this bewildering condition known as hysterical blindness affects people who have had to see their loved ones being tortured. it is almost like an automatic blindness generated by the brain to block out further trauma. i am amazed at the way that he translated this state of being into art so that people can touch and feel and 'see' their side of the world. he employed thick white embroidery to outline the faces on white fabric. this was displayed in a gallery painted in white. the idea is to interact and feel the thread of the embroidery, and by doing so dirty it enough so u see the patterns. by touching the 'memories' you bring them alive again.

i was moved by the presentation. i feel that photography brings little bits of everything together. it is an expression of time, history and feeling, presented in a way that makes it the ultimate form of art.

Monday, October 06, 2008

idiosyncratic reflections; "running in heels with a dagger in my hand!"

i somehow find the title of this post very self reflective... very visibly dangerous, but ultimately stoic and refined. what say you?

Tuesday, September 16, 2008

the pursuit of transient eternity

today's tragedy

isn't tomorrows' star.


troubled.

tabernacled.

this is who we are.


justice is not freedom;

pain is but a veneer.

a layer of numbness,

so we persevere.


come out of this projectile,

find yourself a foe.

trust no symbol.

love disguised a whore.


change your perceptions.

bitter like the green fruit with no name.

red like the blood

that tears out of puffy eyelids.


at night.

at day.


when the world is calm.

quiet.

and you are far, far away.

Monday, September 08, 2008

untitled 2

maleable
and kind

the icy peers
left behind

the silken path
tread with care
feet bare
and mind uncovered

beware

the pain is numbing
the chances fade away

blind
but i see

the icy peers
amongst their own kind

i walk further
drowning in my mind

Monday, July 14, 2008

idiosyncrasies

mental dialogue... on a less serious note

Wednesday, July 09, 2008

the creative element

EVERY designer believes that he/she is creative. To design, in the Jane Austen sense of the word, is to have planned intentions. A designer always has this planned intention. To be able to get so far, you have to be creative.

To assess a person's creative element, you would need to assess the level of sophistication of the executed design. Aesthetics and presentation do add to the overall mark, but disagreements in this area are bountiful. So, I would say the basis of judging a good design, is the logic, application and level of development that displays an aesthetic suitable to it.

How then can you tell a designer that they lack the creative element, when there are no opportunities to conceive any ideas? Conceptualisation and creation call for creativity. The final design element will be based on the initial concept and from there you can judge the level of creativity.

The vantage point is essential in order to judge the popularity of a design. Based on the specifics and the ideologies of the people and situation that the design is applied to.

This is where design philosophy is important. Wacky, out of the ordinary designs may appeal to most people as cool and fun. Others may prefer simplicity, elegance and sophistication. Both designs may be equally good, but of a different philosophy.

So when you try to tell a designer that they lack the creative element, beware of the pitfalls of that sentence. Are they that bad at bringing an idea to life? Or is it the difference in design philosophy that fuels your judgement?

Tuesday, November 13, 2007

untitled

Stuck in a dark room.
With a painful cry;
No echo

A beating heart-
Muted.
In a silent hole,
An anguished being.
Dies.

The consequences of a wavering mind.

Happiness fluxes
As a wisp of thin air,
And waving hands eagerly try;
Yet there's nothing.
Perpetually bleached.
Bare.

Monday, September 10, 2007

pain

eyes
gorged out.
muscles
torn.

embers,
crushed.
burnt flesh;
drops to the floor.

a carcass
tremors.
a body
groans.

i am:
a bloodless
vacuum.
an empty
soul.

Tuesday, April 24, 2007

tomorrow

darkened.
the moonlit sky.
brightens.
as the days go by.

anonymous,
traveller through life.
cold.
and bitter.

envy
in a saccharine world.
an act.
watch truth unfold.

apathy.
a cancerous state.
devours
you whole.

blood.
spills inside your brain.
cries.
am i insane?

trudging on
to make the sweat pay.
tomorrow.
was yesterday's today.

Saturday, March 17, 2007

Episode 1

It was a hot and dusty day, but she existed in tranquility. The rat had been caught. It was a baby. It seemed inhuman to torture another living being in such a way, but such were the laws of life. Its little body jerked against the glue, trying to free itself from the thick, sticky concoction that reeked of all things chemical. But there it will remain, until it is blessed with death. She saw a similarity in her life. Trapped by circumstances, there seemed to be no reason to be alive. Death was a dream, not a nightmare. Such thoughts flew threw her mind spontaneously, but she quickly threw them away. I am respectable, she would say to herself. Most importantly, i am a Muslim.

Rayna, as she was known commonly, was a lover of rain. Her emotions matched the colour of the sky. Her face resembled the wan complexion of a stormy day. Like the rain, she lacked sun. There was nothing to look forward to, no one to care about, and no one that cared. It was her faith that singly took her through life. One day, unknown to her then, it would bring her the happiness she always saw in others, but could not feel herself.

Faith is a complicated thing. It turns you inside out, upside down and wrings you like clothes before they are lined to dry. But it is a process that is essential. It tests your spirits and your loyalty. Your unwavering trust.

----------

The doorbell rang. Rayna went to the door and peeked through the curtains. It was the vegetable seller. She was here again. With her rotten leaves.
"It is not good to eat leaves when there are floods," Rayna told her. "The rain floods the vegetable patch and then the leaves are infested with worms. It is unhealthy. If you grow some other vegetable you will be able to sell it during the rainy season."

The vegetable seller replied meekly, "but i look after elevalu everyday. No rain is coming to my watta." She new that it was a long shot for there was a flood last night. But what other choice did she have?

Rayna grudgingly bought a stack of leaves. She knew that this would pay the lady's children's school fees for the week. She would feed it to the rabbit. Poverty can be a dirty thing, she thought. Especially when you have to see it and feel it, but are not part of it. It brought out her guilt. Why, she did not know.

Sunday, November 26, 2006

renaissance

Several changes have taken place since my last post. Firstly i am no longer a student. Secondly i no longer have a direct connection with the world of architecture. Thirdly, there is an invincible google ad on this page.

The changes that have taken place need immediate attention. Architecture is a passion and i do wish to maintain an opinion on my ideas and thoughts about architecture, so i will be dedicating this blog to the discussion of architecture and the likes. Previous posts were backed by academic research and i hope to maintain a similar attitude with the new posts. Only i believe they will encompass a broader area of architecture and interiors as well as the social role they play. I also plan to broaden the horizons of this site and make it a more active pitstop for those with a view on the subjects discussed.
Idiosyncrasies will still remain the site for crazy and everyday banter.


Au Revoir
Amelie

Saturday, April 01, 2006

why architects?

I love architecture. People say that architects are redundant, but a world without architects would be mundane, monolithic and solely functional. Architects are needed to spice up your life. Imagine your home as a purely functional space. The structure only supports the load and the interior spaces are cut and paste house layouts. Imagine living in such a space forever. Where is the excitement? Where is 'your' special place at home if everyone's home is the same? Engineers are efficient, so its very likely if they took over architecture, everything would be generic, because efficiency saves time and cost. But architects exist to add meaning to your spaces, to create a place you never thought could exist... to make your home entirely for you. A generic 'box' in architecture has infinite possibilities. Engineering, a box is a box is a box. What else can it be right?

Why architects? Human beings are social people, and whether u are discerning or not, you inevitably appreciate beauty (although the term is subjective). Humans spend most of their lives in buildings, and your environment has a direct influence on your personality and state of mind. Basically a building can control you. So you need responsible people who care about humanity, and take pleasure in dealing with the social aspects of architecture.

Detailing in architecture makes a space intimate and cosy. When a building is designed right down to the hand rails, the spaces become intimate. The building seems to come to life. The energy and soul of the architect lives within it... mostly because someone 'cared' about it afterall.

Architects form an important part of the social fabric because in the end, architects are people who care; about the world, humanity and you!

Wednesday, October 19, 2005

Is this where life is?

what is it all about?
the world outside the shell
i see light
its not heaven, its not hell

turning to look
what do i see
a charming picture
its not me

push back the curtains
bring down the facade
what u see now
torn, tattered and scarred

open my heart
my mind, my soul
whats the idea
it all unfolds

shards of fact
threaded with hope
becomes a world;
a dream.
as if today becomes tomorrow.
what it is,
is not what it seems.

Saturday, April 30, 2005

wanderer

tormented.
the disfigured brain.
the capability that it once had.
shattered.
or hiding.

regret.
disbelief.
fighting for what i used to have.
now a negative space.
the perpetual echo.

this is what it has made me.
the brutality
the nonchalence.
respect- a forgotten word.
i've lost myself somewhere.

where is that person.
who used to be me.
what is this place?
is it what i see:
a cold and spattered world?

Wednesday, April 20, 2005

what is asian architecture?

What exactly have i learnt? A in depth knowledge of sit analysis? Relationship of buildings? it all seems very superficial.

It was an inspriring path. along the way u realise a lot of new things. infinite possibilities and amazing inspiration. but sadly ur too far down the line to adapt confidently. u wish u were brave... perhaps more focused. but u settle for something better than nothing.

this semester i got acquainted with the pitched roof. tedious to draw or make, but it posseses the amazing quality of being truly asian. it keeps off the rain, provides shade, and in short, is all that is needed to make a space comfortable! something i was begining to take for granted. as a child i thought amazing architecture was clean, sharp and clear. but i've realised that there is a depth in the earthiness of asian architecture. i dont blame my childhood, but the outlook that most of us had in those years were western. too western for the tropics. too unreal...

rustic and vernacular styles are what makes asia beautiful, sadly the craftsmanship and the knowledge is dying out. in singapore there are very few remnants of what used to be, and what in its true nature defines it. Atleast at home the situation is not that bad because they still exist. but there isn't enough emphasis on the important feautures of sri lankan architecture. little has been done to glorify it in the eyes of the people.

the idea of modernity in asian architecture. the materials, joints, connections, all add up to create an integral whole that cannot exist in parts. the roof being the defining factor. being asian does not mean that you recreate the old long house or the cadjan huts. it means that you learn from the mastery in those works and employ the lessons in what you eventually create. sound easy. but which elements are important? which elements are coherant and will work in todays life? we have survived so long without the template of traditional house layouts that if it were to be integrated in todays houses, it would feel alien.

yet the traditional wasnt perfect. it suited the people at the time it was used. adaptations obviously change the outlook of the users. old longhouses had no toilets.
something we cant live without today. colonialist rulers improved the sanitation condtitions of such places. colonialism is also an added heritage. be it good or bad, it is important to take lessons from their ideas of architecture. they were in fact the first to create the ideas of hybridisation of cultures.

essentially architecture grows with the community. it should be able to mature to suit the people that are going to use it. the culture, the habits and the lifestyle. like JW says, it is a case of adding layers upon an existing fabric. the transparency of these layers create a rich and dynamic enivronment, and creates a hybrid architecural style, and a hybrid culture. Thus the people and the environment are true to its heritage, without compromising the advantages of the modern globalised world.

Tuesday, April 12, 2005

Soliloquy

I'm falling over,
But you dont seem to care.
You sit.
You watch.
You stare.

My life is breaking,
My head's a spin.
You can just ignore.
Your brain gets nothing in.

I'd feel the pangs of hatred.
I'd feel the pangs of care.
For whichever it may be.
You just seem to stare.

I've lost the most i live for.
You don't seem to see.
What's in my mind.
Or what's inside of me.

Why can't you just open ur eyes.
And your mind.
See me,please.
Don't leave me behind.

When the world drowns me.
And i can't see myself.
You will paint my picture,
I'll need no one else.

Stop.
There's no use in dreaming.
Nothing will change.
I'll keep falling over.
You'll just sit
And you'll just stare.

She

Silently,
Awaiting the break of dawn.
Looking into the looking glass,
Staring at the sparkling stars,
She sees herself.
The stars in her eyes are fading.
She dissolves into another world,
A world of loneliness.
She knows, today is a new day,
Different.
She is scared,
Yet she's bold.
She's sad.
But she goes on.
As the stars give off their final flicker,
She wears her lovely smile,
And fades into the day.

Monday, April 04, 2005

today

whirlwind in my head.
crimson dreams
shimmer away.
lying asleep;
falling.

far away;
a place
i want to be.
a life
i want to live.

today i pray.
for strength
for courage
and hope.
till tomorrow comes.


"what you feel is what you are and what you are is beautiful" -Slide, Goo Goo Dolls