at 4am, while everyone was sleeping, instead of waking me up to open the door Patrick decided to jump the 2m brick wall plus metal spikes to go home. if that's not retarded, i don't know what is.
for some drunken reasons or another everyone agreed to head over to my place at midnight. 8 people. the house's never been that crowded since construction. the best part was probably when Aurora cooked pasta. hmm...the Italians, they know how things should be done.
the kitchen pipe gave away at 2:30am. water and soap all over the floor. everyone mopped.
the course's over. Pippa's heading back to Zimbabwe today. Rebecca's flying North. i need to figure out what to do with the moldy walls and start rolling.
Nov. 06, 2008
Today I sat in a vietnamese university auditorium for the first time. A big bust of Ho Chi Minh, white and prominent, sat on the stage, smack in the center. a clear direct view--a clear direct political statement. impossible loud military music blasted from the speakers. and this is before a lecture on painting. way to set the mood for contemplation and sensitivity.
Despite it being the Art school, the auditorium was quite oppressive--an interesting place for a first time visitor, perhaps, because you are slapped in the face by the current system that strives to pound control on every aspect of the vietnamese society. but as a place to study at, it seems terrifying.
The Dutch artist--Wessel Huisman was a very articulate man, with great manners, great energy. he carried to the end with impressive enthusiasm. i was only there for the afternoon session but already, I was drained. 3 hours of interpreting, it's not easy. I feel bad for the students, my vietnamese was so inarticulate.
It was very interesting listening to him talk about what fascinates him and how that comes into play in his paintings... I like his point on the importance of other elements in a painting other than the story-telling elements. He talked a great deal about space, light, movement, and all the while i though ah, yes, dance.
Another thing he touched on that resonated with me was that we should learn to shed off unnecessary things. though, perhaps people my age, it is good, too, to take big bites and to spread out, to try different waters... then it is easier to figure out what it is that we want...
The students, they sat and listened quietly. they knew some of the Renaissance artists but are at a lost when it came to modern and contemporary artists. 4 people or so knew who Piet Mondrian is. I wish we have good museums...
The students. they had beautiful smiles. there was something naive and simple about them. they came in a big group up to where we were after the lecture and asked Wessell for pictures, signatures. They laughed and giggled,
Ê, xin chữ ký đi mày! (let's ask for his signature!)
Mày làm như xin chữ ca sỹ! (you're acting as if he's a pop star.)
someone came for my signature as well. What?!!?...siigh...
Despite it being the Art school, the auditorium was quite oppressive--an interesting place for a first time visitor, perhaps, because you are slapped in the face by the current system that strives to pound control on every aspect of the vietnamese society. but as a place to study at, it seems terrifying.
The Dutch artist--Wessel Huisman was a very articulate man, with great manners, great energy. he carried to the end with impressive enthusiasm. i was only there for the afternoon session but already, I was drained. 3 hours of interpreting, it's not easy. I feel bad for the students, my vietnamese was so inarticulate.
It was very interesting listening to him talk about what fascinates him and how that comes into play in his paintings... I like his point on the importance of other elements in a painting other than the story-telling elements. He talked a great deal about space, light, movement, and all the while i though ah, yes, dance.
Another thing he touched on that resonated with me was that we should learn to shed off unnecessary things. though, perhaps people my age, it is good, too, to take big bites and to spread out, to try different waters... then it is easier to figure out what it is that we want...
The students, they sat and listened quietly. they knew some of the Renaissance artists but are at a lost when it came to modern and contemporary artists. 4 people or so knew who Piet Mondrian is. I wish we have good museums...
The students. they had beautiful smiles. there was something naive and simple about them. they came in a big group up to where we were after the lecture and asked Wessell for pictures, signatures. They laughed and giggled,
Ê, xin chữ ký đi mày! (let's ask for his signature!)
Mày làm như xin chữ ca sỹ! (you're acting as if he's a pop star.)
someone came for my signature as well. What?!!?...siigh...
on the vietnamese teacher's day (Nov 20th) some alumni gave my dad 2kgs of beef. mom cooked a big pot of stew but the meat was really not the most chew-able. while this "gift of beef" could be entirely out of good-will, I'm tempted to think that perhaps dad lost his temper at some point and told someone he was as stupid as a cow. so voila, here is some cow for you sir.
or perhaps it's common to send people meat/fish....have a fish. i thought of you.
the stuffs strangers tell you every now and then--yesterday, the lady at the clothing shop told me my boobs sag. either it's your bra or your boobs, honey. well, it's probably my boobs.
yesterday i screamed and killed a cockroach.
cockroaches. cockroaches. cockroaches. i'm terrified to the point of obsession. perhaps one day i'll cover my canvases with images of scrambling roaches, the way i'm filling the blank sheets with what Steve cordially named sinister balloons.
Does it make sense? to be incredibly cheerful and ridiculously depressed at the same time? to find human beings beautiful and terribly disgusting all at once.
or perhaps contradictions and paradoxes only make all the more sense.
after class, i saw an Iranian film Khane-ye doust kodjast? (Where is the friend's house/ Où est la maison de mon ami) The plot is simple enough but the way the story unfolds is really beautiful--old color tones, subtle yet amazingly sensitive; stone stairways and white walls framing the boy's footsteps, light filtering through wooden handmade windows casting patterns on the walls, the boy's beautiful face and clear eyes, the old man's slow drone as he points out each and every door he's created, and his attachment to those that'd been replaced, and the lovely music. To pull off a relatively convincing story through the eyes of children always impresses me.
or perhaps it's common to send people meat/fish....have a fish. i thought of you.
the stuffs strangers tell you every now and then--yesterday, the lady at the clothing shop told me my boobs sag. either it's your bra or your boobs, honey. well, it's probably my boobs.
yesterday i screamed and killed a cockroach.
cockroaches. cockroaches. cockroaches. i'm terrified to the point of obsession. perhaps one day i'll cover my canvases with images of scrambling roaches, the way i'm filling the blank sheets with what Steve cordially named sinister balloons.
Does it make sense? to be incredibly cheerful and ridiculously depressed at the same time? to find human beings beautiful and terribly disgusting all at once.
or perhaps contradictions and paradoxes only make all the more sense.
after class, i saw an Iranian film Khane-ye doust kodjast? (Where is the friend's house/ Où est la maison de mon ami) The plot is simple enough but the way the story unfolds is really beautiful--old color tones, subtle yet amazingly sensitive; stone stairways and white walls framing the boy's footsteps, light filtering through wooden handmade windows casting patterns on the walls, the boy's beautiful face and clear eyes, the old man's slow drone as he points out each and every door he's created, and his attachment to those that'd been replaced, and the lovely music. To pull off a relatively convincing story through the eyes of children always impresses me.
rain outside, jazz inside. aside from the times spent on the road, i'm eating dinner alone for the first time since coming back. rather lonesome i'd say. the excitement of being in my own place has died down somewhat. i always do that--burn up my storage of excitement in one go.
i miss being hugged. a loooong good *tight* hug.
i'm thinking about Jen and the book she was reading some time ago, How to be alone. How?
This is the 7th time i've moved since graduation, meaning in roughly a year and a half. A relief to know that this time I'm going to stay put for a while...
i'm one week into the Celta course. Surprisingly it's not a nightmare. I realized I actually enjoy teaching to some extent. It is satisfying spreading excitement, seeing the students improve, seeing them have fun, hearing them share their thoughts and feelings... there's something really wonderful in all of that...
i miss being hugged. a loooong good *tight* hug.
i'm thinking about Jen and the book she was reading some time ago, How to be alone. How?
This is the 7th time i've moved since graduation, meaning in roughly a year and a half. A relief to know that this time I'm going to stay put for a while...
i'm one week into the Celta course. Surprisingly it's not a nightmare. I realized I actually enjoy teaching to some extent. It is satisfying spreading excitement, seeing the students improve, seeing them have fun, hearing them share their thoughts and feelings... there's something really wonderful in all of that...
After watching some of the Czech animations from the mythologie(s) de mon voisin collection at idecaf i became intrigued by the czech sense of humor. the screened animations by adrian kukal and michal žabka were grotesque, dark, and completely absurd. with women portrayed as voracious, intimidating, overbearing or rather dominating creatures. far from elegant or flatering but perhaps their humor lie in their absurdity.
Unfortunately, most of the czech comedy clips available on YouTube have no subtitle and as much as the imagery are quite amusing, i can't quite get a grasp of the content. Films aside, below's a funny excerpt I found on www.humorbin.com
Through the center of Czechoslovakia there's a train speeding along. In one compartment of the train there are four people. A beautiful vivacious young woman, an old matronly woman, a Russian soldier, and a Czech dissident.
Suddenly the train goes through a tunnel. It is completely dark. Then is heard a loud kiss and an equally powerful slap. When the train exits the tunnel, the Russian soldier is holding the side of his face, and the Czech dissident is grinning his face off.
The old matronly woman thinks : "Now that's a fine young woman, the Russian soldier tries to steal a kiss in the tunnel and the lady slaps him one!"
The young woman is thinking : "Now that's a strange Russian soldier, he'drather kiss that old hag than me."
The Russian soldier is thinking : "Now that's a smart Czech, he steal the kiss and I get slapped."
And the Czech dissident is thinking : "Gee I'm smart! We go through the tunnel, I kiss the back of my hand and get away with slapping a Russian soldier."
This piece however does not lie within the dark humor category which I recently discover to have a taste for. as can be said of the grotesque, the fantastic and the absurd.
And while we're on the line of the dark and grotesque, another short animation I saw last month left quite a deep impression. Seeing this piece again on the computer screen hardly compares with the impact it creates in the theater, but nevertheless it's worth seeing--Overtime.
Unfortunately, most of the czech comedy clips available on YouTube have no subtitle and as much as the imagery are quite amusing, i can't quite get a grasp of the content. Films aside, below's a funny excerpt I found on www.humorbin.com
Through the center of Czechoslovakia there's a train speeding along. In one compartment of the train there are four people. A beautiful vivacious young woman, an old matronly woman, a Russian soldier, and a Czech dissident.
Suddenly the train goes through a tunnel. It is completely dark. Then is heard a loud kiss and an equally powerful slap. When the train exits the tunnel, the Russian soldier is holding the side of his face, and the Czech dissident is grinning his face off.
The old matronly woman thinks : "Now that's a fine young woman, the Russian soldier tries to steal a kiss in the tunnel and the lady slaps him one!"
The young woman is thinking : "Now that's a strange Russian soldier, he'drather kiss that old hag than me."
The Russian soldier is thinking : "Now that's a smart Czech, he steal the kiss and I get slapped."
And the Czech dissident is thinking : "Gee I'm smart! We go through the tunnel, I kiss the back of my hand and get away with slapping a Russian soldier."
This piece however does not lie within the dark humor category which I recently discover to have a taste for. as can be said of the grotesque, the fantastic and the absurd.
And while we're on the line of the dark and grotesque, another short animation I saw last month left quite a deep impression. Seeing this piece again on the computer screen hardly compares with the impact it creates in the theater, but nevertheless it's worth seeing--Overtime.
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