I just finished watching The Secret, recommended to me by friend, whom I have always found to be blissful, optimistic, and hopeful. Although I was always a true believer that life should be lived in accordance with the philosophies of the ancients, I was content to watch such a motivational movie. The secret is essentially based on the Law of Attraction, which claims that the power of the mind is insurmountable. Simply put, the idealistic notion behind this law is that man becomes what he thinks about and that we should spend the majority of our time thinking about what we desire. The universe supposedly works in mysterious ways to deliver what we ask of it. All that is required of us is to feel and think about such desires. The trick is to always remain grateful, be positive, and visualize what we desire.
Essentially the steps of the Law Of Attraction are broken down into three steps:
1. Ask- Know what you want and ask the universe for it.
2. Believe- Feel and behave as if the object you desire is on its way.
3. Receive- Be open to receiving it.
Personally, I felt like The Secret had a very existentialist connotation to it. It goes along with the lines that we are solely responsible for achieving our happiness and that God exists but he is merely waiting for us to determine our destiny. Additionally, it advocates being blissful and that searching for bliss is man's mission in life, which I agree with wholeheartedly. It also mentions that we are essentially made up of energy, just like every other creation in this universe and that we must merely focus on attracting it. What it comes down to is that our thoughts determine our reality whether we are conscious or unconscious of it. I believe the basic premises of this theory are a positive augmentation to anyone's outlook on life and should definitely be practiced. I also feel that we are innately born knowing all of the postulates of this theory, so the whole conspiracy that this secret was kept from humanity is a bit exaggerated for me. But all in all, I like the positivity aspect it advocates.
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Impressionism, Cubism, Urban Realism, etc...
I just got back from the UVa Art Museum studio, where I spent another three-hour art session enlightening myself on this fascinating world of art. This is a continuation of the art class I've enrolled in to explore my hidden creativity. Today, Fanella, the art instructor wanted to take us down another lane of the schools of art. Subsequent to really focusing on realism in the previous class, she wanted to introduce us to the development of art and its gradual progression to abstraction. As she put it, she wanted to walk us, hand in hand, through a dark tunnel with flashlights. What truly intrigued me was that we were not only surveying the different realms of art, but the development of human perception.
Initially, Fanella, took us to a realism gallery dating from the 1800s. She explained that since the time of the renaissance until the late 1800s, realism was emphasized by the artist. It was encouraged to depict subjects as they appeared in everyday life without any unique signature touches of the artist. This objective reality condemned any deviations that may have expressed the artist's own impressions or emotions. She pointed out some techniques involved in realism, which was particularly objects closer to us, the viewer, entailed a much higher level of detail and that the colors for these objects were much saturated. As one looks into the distance of a landscape, for instance, the colors tend to blemish, become diluted, and the details are not so precise. This would allow the effect of proportionality to take place since the greater the distance, the less clear objects become. Fanella gave the example of road signs; the further they are, they less we can make out what they say. Notice this painting by Millet, titled the Gleaners, where is is very classical realism, but one can make out the details of the women, the colors of their clothing and hats, whereas the distance looks blemished and the colors are fading in contrast to the deep rich colors of the women's clothing.
We were next taken to a gallery of Modern American Impressionism and Urban Realism. This was a much richer type of art in my eyes. The impressionist works we viewed endeavored to capture the experience, or rather the impressions, or the artist. There tends to be much more fluidity, dynamism, and activity in life. It is for this reason, artists attempted to capture this reality by from how we perceive, not merely by how it appears. Impressionism gives us a different sensational feeling than realism and it is for this reason that it deviates drastically from how an object might appear from reality, on the path to abstraction. These paintings were marked with a collage of brushstrokes of different colors, almost appearing like pixels of a digital photograph. The more brushstrokes, the more intense the detail. Moreover, impressionist art overemphasized certain aspects of a painting, such as the emphasis on light. Also, aspects of life that we may perceive to be something ordinary take on a whole new dimension because the artist is attuned on a different frequency level than we are. He captures the reflections, sparkles, current, waves of water with a plethora of colors that defies our expectations of water being simply blue and green. For example, this painting of Monet:
reveals the water to have strands of green, blue, white, brown, black, and even orange to represent the reflection of the setting sun. The human experience is what is emphasized in this genre of art, especially in terms of the angles and perceptions through which the artist visualizes this art. This was a revolution in the art world and it evolved much more outdoors painting simply so that the artist could live the experience and transmit it on canvas.
Our last tour for the day was that of the cubist gallary, which encompassed various modernist paintings of Picasso and Braque, the artists who spearheaded cubism. Inspired by recently imported art from Africa, especially African masks, cubism was a new way for artists to express their perception of the human body into various dimensions. Breaking up the body included realizing that it was a creation of different components with different shades, volumes, and overall specifications. Notice the rigidity and segmentation of the human face in this African mask:
Cubism attempted to breakdown and capture the simplicity and segmentation of the human figure, essentially into cubes. This was a radical and influential deviation from all precedent forms of art. Moreover, human figures tend to be abiguous because the visual images of the human body tend to split up, drawn from different angles, and reassembled to create one object from multiple angles. This allows breadth of insight into the understanding of the artist's perception of the object. One object, drawn on the same canvas from different angles becomes multiple objects morphed into one. Cubism is the as abstract as we'd gotten so far as it times time, pondering, and contemplation to interpret the movement, animation, and story behind each cubist artwork. The following is a cubist portrait of the master of cubism, Picasso:
Our attempt for today's drawing session was to capture still life from a multitude of dimensions, while giving it a cubist and abstract touch. Since we couldn't afford hiring a model to pose for us, we had to settle with stuffed animals for the time being. I picked a stuffed teddy rabbit as my object. Our mission was to capture the three-dimensional, active, movement of this still object. The action would not necessarily be a result of the rabbit moving, but rather, our perception of the rabbit from different angles and with different drawing techniques. Firstly, we drew the objects from one fixed position with a single stroke of a pencil, without ever removing it from the paper; we then drew the object from a different position, with a different colored pencil, this time without looking. Lastly, we drew the same object from a diametrically opposite angle. We then shaded the three rabbits in with the respective colors. At this point, we attempted to morph the three rabbits into one. We did this by mixing and matching the rabbits so as to give them life and animation. Below is my attempt:
I understand that my drawing may come across as a bunch of kindergarten scribbles, but it was my attempt at emulating the perceptions of art I had absorbed for the day. It is through these endeavors, which may seem silly, that I feel like I am stretching my imagination and gaining more confidence in my creations.
Initially, Fanella, took us to a realism gallery dating from the 1800s. She explained that since the time of the renaissance until the late 1800s, realism was emphasized by the artist. It was encouraged to depict subjects as they appeared in everyday life without any unique signature touches of the artist. This objective reality condemned any deviations that may have expressed the artist's own impressions or emotions. She pointed out some techniques involved in realism, which was particularly objects closer to us, the viewer, entailed a much higher level of detail and that the colors for these objects were much saturated. As one looks into the distance of a landscape, for instance, the colors tend to blemish, become diluted, and the details are not so precise. This would allow the effect of proportionality to take place since the greater the distance, the less clear objects become. Fanella gave the example of road signs; the further they are, they less we can make out what they say. Notice this painting by Millet, titled the Gleaners, where is is very classical realism, but one can make out the details of the women, the colors of their clothing and hats, whereas the distance looks blemished and the colors are fading in contrast to the deep rich colors of the women's clothing.
We were next taken to a gallery of Modern American Impressionism and Urban Realism. This was a much richer type of art in my eyes. The impressionist works we viewed endeavored to capture the experience, or rather the impressions, or the artist. There tends to be much more fluidity, dynamism, and activity in life. It is for this reason, artists attempted to capture this reality by from how we perceive, not merely by how it appears. Impressionism gives us a different sensational feeling than realism and it is for this reason that it deviates drastically from how an object might appear from reality, on the path to abstraction. These paintings were marked with a collage of brushstrokes of different colors, almost appearing like pixels of a digital photograph. The more brushstrokes, the more intense the detail. Moreover, impressionist art overemphasized certain aspects of a painting, such as the emphasis on light. Also, aspects of life that we may perceive to be something ordinary take on a whole new dimension because the artist is attuned on a different frequency level than we are. He captures the reflections, sparkles, current, waves of water with a plethora of colors that defies our expectations of water being simply blue and green. For example, this painting of Monet:
reveals the water to have strands of green, blue, white, brown, black, and even orange to represent the reflection of the setting sun. The human experience is what is emphasized in this genre of art, especially in terms of the angles and perceptions through which the artist visualizes this art. This was a revolution in the art world and it evolved much more outdoors painting simply so that the artist could live the experience and transmit it on canvas.
Our last tour for the day was that of the cubist gallary, which encompassed various modernist paintings of Picasso and Braque, the artists who spearheaded cubism. Inspired by recently imported art from Africa, especially African masks, cubism was a new way for artists to express their perception of the human body into various dimensions. Breaking up the body included realizing that it was a creation of different components with different shades, volumes, and overall specifications. Notice the rigidity and segmentation of the human face in this African mask:
Cubism attempted to breakdown and capture the simplicity and segmentation of the human figure, essentially into cubes. This was a radical and influential deviation from all precedent forms of art. Moreover, human figures tend to be abiguous because the visual images of the human body tend to split up, drawn from different angles, and reassembled to create one object from multiple angles. This allows breadth of insight into the understanding of the artist's perception of the object. One object, drawn on the same canvas from different angles becomes multiple objects morphed into one. Cubism is the as abstract as we'd gotten so far as it times time, pondering, and contemplation to interpret the movement, animation, and story behind each cubist artwork. The following is a cubist portrait of the master of cubism, Picasso:
Our attempt for today's drawing session was to capture still life from a multitude of dimensions, while giving it a cubist and abstract touch. Since we couldn't afford hiring a model to pose for us, we had to settle with stuffed animals for the time being. I picked a stuffed teddy rabbit as my object. Our mission was to capture the three-dimensional, active, movement of this still object. The action would not necessarily be a result of the rabbit moving, but rather, our perception of the rabbit from different angles and with different drawing techniques. Firstly, we drew the objects from one fixed position with a single stroke of a pencil, without ever removing it from the paper; we then drew the object from a different position, with a different colored pencil, this time without looking. Lastly, we drew the same object from a diametrically opposite angle. We then shaded the three rabbits in with the respective colors. At this point, we attempted to morph the three rabbits into one. We did this by mixing and matching the rabbits so as to give them life and animation. Below is my attempt:
I understand that my drawing may come across as a bunch of kindergarten scribbles, but it was my attempt at emulating the perceptions of art I had absorbed for the day. It is through these endeavors, which may seem silly, that I feel like I am stretching my imagination and gaining more confidence in my creations.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
The Reality in Egypt...
A very interested documentary I came across...
I won't lie, but this is the utopia of Cairo that I have lived in for my most recent memories of home...
I won't lie, but this is the utopia of Cairo that I have lived in for my most recent memories of home...
Monday, March 23, 2009
Siesta In The Grass
Today, upon returning home, I felt so bogged down with stress. Despite munching down another one of my splendid salad creations, I still felt quite drained. From what I could not tell. As I was about to open my economics book to continue reading, I couldn't help but glance out of the darkness of my room to see the lush green grass calling... Immediately, as if hypnotized, I grabbed my mug filled with green tea, ran down the staircase, and followed the trail to the garden that had paints the beautiful scenery I see every time I look out the window. I literally felt entranced by the energy that the garden emitted. As the sun was setting, the birds were chirping, and the damp coolness in the air descending, I could help but stroll in the garden for a couple of minutes before finding a small valley in midst of the garden. After whirling around this new sanctuary like a dervish, I couldn't help but gradually descend to rest my head on the grass. As I descended, I felt that I was slowly submerging into the peace and calm of nature while leaving the worries of life and reality behind. As I inhaled the deep cool breeze, I could feel myself slowly rejuvenated. As my eyes surveyed the opening around me, a plethora of thoughts raced through my mind. Although my chain of thoughts was moving from one idea to the other, I felt at complete ease, as if in a cradle in heaven. At one point, I would imagine my dog Prince run towards me waiting to be pet and how no dog I had pet since his departure had every elated me as much as he did. I then stared on the branches of a nearby Red Oak tree to see a squirrel hop from branch to branch, devouring the nuts on each branch on his way to the pinnacle of the tree. It amazed me how his body could defy gravity as he lunged on the most fragile stems of the branches. As my eyes moved fixed on the silhouettes of the stems of the leafless trees in the distance, I was awed and humbled by the grace of God's manifestations in his creatures. As the breeze swayed the trees from side to side, I imagined the wind feeding the stems of these trees as it fills the bronchioles of my lungs. As my eyes shifted to the sky above, I witnessed a sparrow gliding on the wind currents above. With minimal effort, it skimmed the sky, flapping once or twice every couple of seconds to gain moment. I was amazed by how its slow motion resembled a gold fish in an aquarium. Following this flying fish was a bigger one, a big blue whale if you may...Actually, as I snapped back to reality, it was a airplane swooshing through the clouds... I wondered to myself, where could it be flying from, where could it be flying to...Oh how I wished it could fly me to some exotic, distant land...could this place I may be dreaming of be "home"? As one thought yielded to the next, my imagination began to yield to my dreams...Before I knew it, I was dozing off to my afternoon siesta as the sun was setting in the between the trees that now engulfed me. The darkness that gathered above and below the setting sun sandwiched the rays it emitted to create a masterpiece of artwork that only the hand of Nature could paint... As the sun set, so did my lids descend with it... I was in such a serene state of mind that I felt I had discovered my eternal resting place....
...Upon sniffing the fumes of smoke carried by the breeze my way, I snapped out of this tranqual state. It was some of the French kids puffing away on some cigs that put an end to this sereneity. It was about time to return to reality anyways. As I got up and picked up my mug of green tea, which suprising was still hot, I couldn't was astonished to see that I had experienced all of this in a span of a couple of minutes. I think that this was what my inner soul had been craving for so long and what I realized that it really wasn't my beautiful environment that had caused me such elation, but rather the manifestation of my inner thoughts...
...Upon sniffing the fumes of smoke carried by the breeze my way, I snapped out of this tranqual state. It was some of the French kids puffing away on some cigs that put an end to this sereneity. It was about time to return to reality anyways. As I got up and picked up my mug of green tea, which suprising was still hot, I couldn't was astonished to see that I had experienced all of this in a span of a couple of minutes. I think that this was what my inner soul had been craving for so long and what I realized that it really wasn't my beautiful environment that had caused me such elation, but rather the manifestation of my inner thoughts...
Thursday, March 19, 2009
On Cafe Culture: Cairo, Istanbul, etc...
Recently I read a truly interesting BBC article titled "Sad Goodbye To Cosmopolitan Cairo". Cairo's cafe culture has always been an interest of mind. When I studied in AUC in the Summer of 07, I would always grab a cup of hot white chocolate and sit in the balcony of Cilantro in Midan El Tahrir, what I consider to be the nucleus of Cairo's hustle and bustle. There was something about the dynamism and energy of the city that stimulated me to return to that same spot almost every morning. Whether it was with friends, with a book, or just to come and sit down with my mug to observe people, there was something about Cairo's cafe cuture that was addicting. I cannot say that Cilantro is a justified example for experiencing Egypt's authentic cafe culture, but gave me taste that ever since put me on a trail to discover what it is about the cafes that enriched the Arab world's intellectual movements.
In my early teenage years, I remember going to the Naguib Mahfouz cafe in Khan El Khalili. I remember seeing portraits of the mastermind there, but I had no appreciation of his works at that time. But I soon discovered through my readings of Arabic literature that it all started in cafes like the one I had visited so long ago. Sitting in the midst of cosmopolitan Cairo, some of Egypt's greatest writers would congregate like think tanks to share their impressions and inspirations. This rich literary culture has died since, but I have been able to relive it through my readings.
I remember back when I was in AUC, on one of my daily tours of their outstanding bookstore, I picked up a book titled Cafe Riche. A publication by the AUC press, it was a book that chronicled Cairo's rich intellectual cafe culture that progressed over the past century and how it influenced Egypt's literary movement. The title of the book was a mere specimen of Cairo's vast pool of cafes.
After reading the BBC article, I was disappointed to find out that this intellectually-luxurious cafe world I had imagined had become artificial and is slowly rotting as Egypt's intellectual literary movement withers away. I still imagine nostalgic Downtown Cairo to have the Parisian touches bestowed upon it by Khedive Ismail, but I have to terms with the fact that the cafes that once cultivated Egypt's rich literary history are now void of any intellectualism.
Nowadays, most of these cafes are alcohol-stenched, dusty, and overcrowded with the dregs of society, if I may be excused to say. I once visited one of these cafes in an old, shabby motel in the middle of Zamalek with a couple of American friends. We took a very shaky lift up to the top floor of the motel to find that it was a run-down cafe converted to a shady bar, where instead of some of Egypt's greatest thinkers and writers would congregate, it had become a hub for taxi drivers to drink their lives away. I was quite disappointed. My friends and I were there till sunrise, and it was such an irony watching my countrymen drunk on whisky while the Fajr athan was sounding...
What happened to the classiness, and style of the past that attracted the latest trends of thought and fashion from Europe straight to the alleys of Cairo? The BBC article I was reading blamed religious conservatism in Egypt as the main culprit for the decay of this rich cafe culture. I wouldn't disagree, but I would also attribute it to the lack of interest in literature...actually, there is no point to beat around the bush...simply put, I would attribute it to ignorance and lack of regard for education.
Unfortunately, the elite that once set the standards for these cafes have also sought new, more suburban places to avoid the chaos that has engulfed downtown Cairo. Living in Katamaya, I can attest that I feel like I come from a completely different country when I step out into Downtown Cairo.
I believe that the closest thing that has allowed me to relive what I believe would have been Cairo's rich cafe cuture is Istanbul's backstreet cafes. In the alleys stemming from Istiklal Avenue, Omar and I have been able to discover very sophisticated cafes which resemble those of Manhattan's Village, where there is the decency of sipping of on a glass of wine, nothing obnoxious like I had seen in Cairo. My favorite spot in Istanbul was the Algerian/French Street, with its steps, fountain, petite colorful apartment buildings.
Omar in front of the Algerian Cafe Street in Istanbul
In Charlottesville, there is nothing remotely cosmopolitan as in Istanbul and Cairo, so I have invented my own Cafe world in the couple of cafes scattered across the Downtown Mall. Although the Mudhouse Cafe may not compare to Naguib Mahfouz's cafe, I find it to be my own literary inspiration, at least in my own way.
In my early teenage years, I remember going to the Naguib Mahfouz cafe in Khan El Khalili. I remember seeing portraits of the mastermind there, but I had no appreciation of his works at that time. But I soon discovered through my readings of Arabic literature that it all started in cafes like the one I had visited so long ago. Sitting in the midst of cosmopolitan Cairo, some of Egypt's greatest writers would congregate like think tanks to share their impressions and inspirations. This rich literary culture has died since, but I have been able to relive it through my readings.
I remember back when I was in AUC, on one of my daily tours of their outstanding bookstore, I picked up a book titled Cafe Riche. A publication by the AUC press, it was a book that chronicled Cairo's rich intellectual cafe culture that progressed over the past century and how it influenced Egypt's literary movement. The title of the book was a mere specimen of Cairo's vast pool of cafes.
After reading the BBC article, I was disappointed to find out that this intellectually-luxurious cafe world I had imagined had become artificial and is slowly rotting as Egypt's intellectual literary movement withers away. I still imagine nostalgic Downtown Cairo to have the Parisian touches bestowed upon it by Khedive Ismail, but I have to terms with the fact that the cafes that once cultivated Egypt's rich literary history are now void of any intellectualism.
Nowadays, most of these cafes are alcohol-stenched, dusty, and overcrowded with the dregs of society, if I may be excused to say. I once visited one of these cafes in an old, shabby motel in the middle of Zamalek with a couple of American friends. We took a very shaky lift up to the top floor of the motel to find that it was a run-down cafe converted to a shady bar, where instead of some of Egypt's greatest thinkers and writers would congregate, it had become a hub for taxi drivers to drink their lives away. I was quite disappointed. My friends and I were there till sunrise, and it was such an irony watching my countrymen drunk on whisky while the Fajr athan was sounding...
What happened to the classiness, and style of the past that attracted the latest trends of thought and fashion from Europe straight to the alleys of Cairo? The BBC article I was reading blamed religious conservatism in Egypt as the main culprit for the decay of this rich cafe culture. I wouldn't disagree, but I would also attribute it to the lack of interest in literature...actually, there is no point to beat around the bush...simply put, I would attribute it to ignorance and lack of regard for education.
Unfortunately, the elite that once set the standards for these cafes have also sought new, more suburban places to avoid the chaos that has engulfed downtown Cairo. Living in Katamaya, I can attest that I feel like I come from a completely different country when I step out into Downtown Cairo.
I believe that the closest thing that has allowed me to relive what I believe would have been Cairo's rich cafe cuture is Istanbul's backstreet cafes. In the alleys stemming from Istiklal Avenue, Omar and I have been able to discover very sophisticated cafes which resemble those of Manhattan's Village, where there is the decency of sipping of on a glass of wine, nothing obnoxious like I had seen in Cairo. My favorite spot in Istanbul was the Algerian/French Street, with its steps, fountain, petite colorful apartment buildings.
Omar in front of the Algerian Cafe Street in IstanbulIn Charlottesville, there is nothing remotely cosmopolitan as in Istanbul and Cairo, so I have invented my own Cafe world in the couple of cafes scattered across the Downtown Mall. Although the Mudhouse Cafe may not compare to Naguib Mahfouz's cafe, I find it to be my own literary inspiration, at least in my own way.
Audioblogging in my Mothertongue
I have recently discovered a splendid new medium of expression other than blogging. It is called Audio Blogging. Essentially what it is is an online radio station whereby the anchor, who is the blogger, expresses his thoughts and ideas in vocal words. Once accessing one of the Egyptian audio blogs, I was so elated to hear a monologue in Egyptian Arabic for a good five minutes. It had been a long long time since I had had exposure to listening to my mother tongue for so longer. Having to watch corny Egyptian movies or stand those mind-numbing pop songs drives me mad, but this indie, modern, and cosmopolitan means of audio blogging is quite entertaining. One of the audio blogs, Teet Radio, talks about some issues of Egyptian daily life. It is as if I am sitting in downtown Cairo eavesdropping on mindlessly conversing about what they think may be intellectual.
For the past ten minutes I have been listening to some blogger talk about his strange habit of log-keeping, whereby he takes note of all his observations during the day. He keeps prolific notes in notebook, which is secretive but he enjoys recording the behavior of society and people. Although he doesn't enjoy this arduous task, he reviews the events that occurs and observes the consistency of the different people over days. He then talks about his tattoo, which is Chinese character that reads "Truth," which pains him when he finds an inconsistency in his log.
To some extent, I used to do this daily logging in my diaries...But I think I go beyond that by collecting every memory, be it vintage photos, plane/bus/concert tickets, stamps, or any artifact that brings back any memory. I can't wait to return to Cairo to record my experiences there.
Strange, I know, but I take interest in these strange, indie, unconventional kinds of stories, that is so out of the norm. But what is enjoyable is that they play some nice jazz tunes in the background that goes so well with the issue.
Its a good relief to hearing some Egyptian Arabic, but once I feel getting nostalgic and as if I am in Egypt once more, I have to turn of the radio to avoid feeling homesick...
Consolations for Tenaciousness
Lately, I have been feeling a bit antsy and tenacious. After doing some introspection, I realized that the feeling of letting go can cause anxiety in one's life. Detatchment is an aspect of life that is universily faced, but it is a matter of seeing it as an opportunity rather than a curse that will elate you.
Despite it hurts to let go of whatever we may have become so attached to, detatchment gives us nothing more than the opportunity for renewal. Detatchment is a vast mystical topic, but if there is a thing or two that I have learned, it how to endeavor to cope with detatchment. I know that someone very dear to me is going through an experiencing involving detatchment, this time to a place he might consider to be home and in a career that is characterised by honor, prestige, esteem, and eminance.
I guess I can relate, even if it is to a very small extent...
I truly regret that I have lived the past couple of years here in Charlottesville in melancholy. Lately, I desire to live in no place but here. I no longer have the desire to live the big city life that I had always dreamt of, but have come to really love the small town life that it had taken me so long to get used to. At the same time, it is no use looking back and regretting my past impressions. All one can do is flip to a new page and renew their life. This semester at UVa has been my most blissful so far, simply because I have shaped my perception to be a happy one. You are the only person can determine your happiness.
Well, after feeling so settled and happy here in Charlottesville, I feel like life is changing all over again. For starters, I am moving out of the room I have lived in for the past two years and which has become a part of me. I will definitely miss this view that has I have woken up to every morning. Moving into an apartment will be a mature step, a transitional step in life, but I am apprehensive to change.
The view from my window
The apprehension to change stems to other parts in my life as well. What lies before me after UVa? After four years of hard work, where will life throw me next? Will I be able to fulfill the expectations bestowed upon me? These are some questions that circulate in my mind every now and then. I know that I am not the only one going through transitions lately, so I can definitely relate to the apprehensive reaction to feeling that something that seems like it would last forever is finally coming to an end. It is so true that one never really appreciates the value of what is in his hands until it is gone!
I know that my case of uncertainly and letting go is a trivial one in comparison to others, but if there is one thing I have learned from my past experiences is that the wind of life takes away everything. Why do we feel so apprehensive then if we are anticipating the wind?
It is because we are not as hasty as the wind, but we must learn to detatch ourselves from any selfless desires and allow the wind, or shall I say the hand of God, to guide us. We must completely submit and let go.
We must adapt to change. Every day is a new day, never affected by the former, and not necessarily a continuous thread leading to the next. Every sunrise gives us a new opportunity. Oh, how mundane and monotonous life would be if every new day was like the previous.
The more tenacious we fell attached towards objects, the more the pain we feel when it is time to let go. Although I may have fallen in love with certain aesthetic aspects of life here, it is only then that the wind blows its hardest; this is when we must be prepared to let it all go.
At the same time, He is never unjust. Whatever is taken away from you is returned to you in some other shape or form. The tide of the sea returns to shore everything it once gulped up. Isn't that what karma is all about? Just keep in mind that no effort goes to waste. The seeds you have sowed through the work you have invested will one day become ripe fruits that you will someday reap as the booty of your labor.
I hope that these consolations can ease the pain of tenaciousness. Its never easy to let go at first, but once you surrender yourself to detatchment, life will play before you like a movie, and the smile on your face will never fade away...
Despite it hurts to let go of whatever we may have become so attached to, detatchment gives us nothing more than the opportunity for renewal. Detatchment is a vast mystical topic, but if there is a thing or two that I have learned, it how to endeavor to cope with detatchment. I know that someone very dear to me is going through an experiencing involving detatchment, this time to a place he might consider to be home and in a career that is characterised by honor, prestige, esteem, and eminance.
I guess I can relate, even if it is to a very small extent...
I truly regret that I have lived the past couple of years here in Charlottesville in melancholy. Lately, I desire to live in no place but here. I no longer have the desire to live the big city life that I had always dreamt of, but have come to really love the small town life that it had taken me so long to get used to. At the same time, it is no use looking back and regretting my past impressions. All one can do is flip to a new page and renew their life. This semester at UVa has been my most blissful so far, simply because I have shaped my perception to be a happy one. You are the only person can determine your happiness.
Well, after feeling so settled and happy here in Charlottesville, I feel like life is changing all over again. For starters, I am moving out of the room I have lived in for the past two years and which has become a part of me. I will definitely miss this view that has I have woken up to every morning. Moving into an apartment will be a mature step, a transitional step in life, but I am apprehensive to change.
The view from my windowI know that my case of uncertainly and letting go is a trivial one in comparison to others, but if there is one thing I have learned from my past experiences is that the wind of life takes away everything. Why do we feel so apprehensive then if we are anticipating the wind?
It is because we are not as hasty as the wind, but we must learn to detatch ourselves from any selfless desires and allow the wind, or shall I say the hand of God, to guide us. We must completely submit and let go.
We must adapt to change. Every day is a new day, never affected by the former, and not necessarily a continuous thread leading to the next. Every sunrise gives us a new opportunity. Oh, how mundane and monotonous life would be if every new day was like the previous.
The more tenacious we fell attached towards objects, the more the pain we feel when it is time to let go. Although I may have fallen in love with certain aesthetic aspects of life here, it is only then that the wind blows its hardest; this is when we must be prepared to let it all go.
At the same time, He is never unjust. Whatever is taken away from you is returned to you in some other shape or form. The tide of the sea returns to shore everything it once gulped up. Isn't that what karma is all about? Just keep in mind that no effort goes to waste. The seeds you have sowed through the work you have invested will one day become ripe fruits that you will someday reap as the booty of your labor.
I hope that these consolations can ease the pain of tenaciousness. Its never easy to let go at first, but once you surrender yourself to detatchment, life will play before you like a movie, and the smile on your face will never fade away...
I feel like writing...
Dear Reader,
I can attest to the feeling of deprivation when I feel one. It is the mutual craving for writing and reading that drives me to write despite life outside this blog is bugging me with so much nuisances. I have so much to write about; so much that I have bottled up in my mind. It is about time to let it all out.
It is quite shocking to look back and see that the past two weeks since my return from Istanbul have just flown by. I have been meaning to recap on my travels in the city I have come to love so much. Since my return, I have also experienced various emotions that I have put me on the brim of explosion when not being able to write.
As usual, I prepare some mezza of dates, almonds, cashew nuts, and raisins along with a good cup of green tea to prepare me to write about all that has been circulating in my mind. I sincerely hope that the accompanying entries are not burdensome, but are a true testimony of the emotions that have been airlocked for the past couple of days.
Enjoy:)
I can attest to the feeling of deprivation when I feel one. It is the mutual craving for writing and reading that drives me to write despite life outside this blog is bugging me with so much nuisances. I have so much to write about; so much that I have bottled up in my mind. It is about time to let it all out.
It is quite shocking to look back and see that the past two weeks since my return from Istanbul have just flown by. I have been meaning to recap on my travels in the city I have come to love so much. Since my return, I have also experienced various emotions that I have put me on the brim of explosion when not being able to write.
As usual, I prepare some mezza of dates, almonds, cashew nuts, and raisins along with a good cup of green tea to prepare me to write about all that has been circulating in my mind. I sincerely hope that the accompanying entries are not burdensome, but are a true testimony of the emotions that have been airlocked for the past couple of days.
Enjoy:)
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Drawing 101
Why is it that I am able to express myself so profoundly verbally, yet lack the means to do so visually? Even though I am a great admirer of the arts, why have I never conjured the courage to endeavor to emulate them? Could that traumatic experience of being told that I am a "blind" when it comes to art by my art teacher in 9th grade have discouraged me for the rest of my life?
These were the questions for which I was seeking answers for when I decided to enroll in the Univerity's Drawing in the Museum class offered by the UVa Art Museum. Whether it had been witnessing someone doodle in class or observe someone contemplate while attempt to copy a masterpiece in a gallery, I have always envied those with the talent of drawing. Yet, I was always convinced that drawing is not a natural talent and can be learned. Why? Because, just like learning to walk and talk, it is a natural talent that we must strive to realize and tap into its potential. We are artists in every aspect of our lives. From getting up in the morning and mixing and matching our clothes to the way we design the interior of our room. It is for this reason that all that is needed to actually realize one's potential when it comes to drawing, painting, or any form of visual art is practice! The potential is in us... In my case, I just gave up way to early and never gave myself a chance.
As I rushed into the Art Museum around 1pm, unpunctual as usual, I was excited to see that the gathering of students signed up for this course were a mere dozen, all of which had minimal art experience. Surprisingly, they were all souls looking for answers to the questions that I was also seeking. One of them found the need and craving to create. The other wanted to revive a childhood favorite pastime. This was reassuring because I would have felt quite intimidated if there would have been some advanced artists.
Just like me, this group were great admirers of the arts. We compared notes on what schools of arts we enjoyed. Everyone but me enjoyed realism. For some strange reason, I felt inclined to side with the abstraction school. Abstraction induces more creativity, whereby the artist doesn't merely give you the answer to your questions, but allows you to interpret them according to your own temperament and experiences.
The instructor, Fenella, walked us through the syllabus, whereby she would take us on a journey through the arts. We would experiment with different techniques; everything from cubism to impressionism. I had always read and admired these art forms, but never imagined myself actually using them for my own productions. Fenella also informed us that the classes objective was the process of creating art and not the end-product. We would focus on emulating the artwork in the museum a
To give us a taste of what we would play around with, Fenella took on a tour of the Picasso/Matisse exhibit on display; I know, I never would have imagined that UVA would ever host the masterpieces of these two art giants. We viewed various portraits, analyzed their proportions, determined what features the artist was emphasizing, etc... Fenella was trying to make us through the art through the eyes of its creator. How much of the art was realism? How much of it was the artist's imagination and creativity?
Upon returning to the art studio, we were told to sit opposite of another student. For the next two hours, we would carry out the daunting task of attempting to draw him/her without making them look absolutely horrible. I was reasured that Elyss, my drawing partner would forgive me. The most important aspect of actually drawing our partner's portrait was to get the proportions right. It is for this reason that Fenella advised us to break down the process of drawing a face into steps. Behind the art was the mathematics. We were required to divide the face using axes lines, leveling the eyes, nose, chin, mouth. There were definitely mathematical techniques to all of this and it was a matter of getting the bigger picture correct before pursuing the rest.
One also had to establish a personal relationship with the subject of the portrait. While drawing, Elyss and I conversed about our backgrounds and origins. This aided us in familiarizing ourselves with one another and to formulate a perception of the other person. This definitely influenced my drawing of her.
It was a very unusual experience because there would be times where we would need to make eye contact for a minute straight without uttering a word in order to capture every detail of the pupil: the glare, the complexity, the intimacy, the depth... By the mere expression on her face, my mind wandered into wondering about her past, what she was thinking at that moment, what are her future plans, was she thinking what was running through my own mind? It was a very absurd, yet intriguing experience.
Once my painting of her began to look ugly in my eyes, I began worrying that she might be disappointed; I began losing confidence. It was at this point that Fenella revealed the drawing to Elyss. The latter was more than forgiving with me, but Fenella gave me some pointers to improve my painting. I needed to add more volume to the lush black hair, I needed to capture the sorrow shades around her eyes, capture the curves of her slim long nose. I felt that Fenella was passing her artistic eyes on to me.
At the point when I felt that my drawing was complete, there was a small modification that I sought. This would lead me to changing a whole aspect of her face, like completely erasing the nose and starting all over again. Regardless of the setbacks I faces, I was learning by doing it myself. I experimented with shading, 3D illusions, details, etc... I was gaining more confidence, rushing to make alterations before they slipped my mind. It was like writing for me; I sought perfection, at least in my eyes.
Portrait of Elyss
Realistically, I understand that my drawing of Elyss is far from complete, but it opened my heart to this new passion of drawing. I stuck around after the session to discuss some techniques about proportions with Fenella. Although I was looking forward to viewing the Picasso/Matisse gallery more carefully after the class, I felt the sudden urge to write, so I run home to pen the thoughts your read before your eyes...It amuses me how one passion stimulates the other.
These were the questions for which I was seeking answers for when I decided to enroll in the Univerity's Drawing in the Museum class offered by the UVa Art Museum. Whether it had been witnessing someone doodle in class or observe someone contemplate while attempt to copy a masterpiece in a gallery, I have always envied those with the talent of drawing. Yet, I was always convinced that drawing is not a natural talent and can be learned. Why? Because, just like learning to walk and talk, it is a natural talent that we must strive to realize and tap into its potential. We are artists in every aspect of our lives. From getting up in the morning and mixing and matching our clothes to the way we design the interior of our room. It is for this reason that all that is needed to actually realize one's potential when it comes to drawing, painting, or any form of visual art is practice! The potential is in us... In my case, I just gave up way to early and never gave myself a chance.
As I rushed into the Art Museum around 1pm, unpunctual as usual, I was excited to see that the gathering of students signed up for this course were a mere dozen, all of which had minimal art experience. Surprisingly, they were all souls looking for answers to the questions that I was also seeking. One of them found the need and craving to create. The other wanted to revive a childhood favorite pastime. This was reassuring because I would have felt quite intimidated if there would have been some advanced artists.
Just like me, this group were great admirers of the arts. We compared notes on what schools of arts we enjoyed. Everyone but me enjoyed realism. For some strange reason, I felt inclined to side with the abstraction school. Abstraction induces more creativity, whereby the artist doesn't merely give you the answer to your questions, but allows you to interpret them according to your own temperament and experiences.
The instructor, Fenella, walked us through the syllabus, whereby she would take us on a journey through the arts. We would experiment with different techniques; everything from cubism to impressionism. I had always read and admired these art forms, but never imagined myself actually using them for my own productions. Fenella also informed us that the classes objective was the process of creating art and not the end-product. We would focus on emulating the artwork in the museum a
To give us a taste of what we would play around with, Fenella took on a tour of the Picasso/Matisse exhibit on display; I know, I never would have imagined that UVA would ever host the masterpieces of these two art giants. We viewed various portraits, analyzed their proportions, determined what features the artist was emphasizing, etc... Fenella was trying to make us through the art through the eyes of its creator. How much of the art was realism? How much of it was the artist's imagination and creativity?
Upon returning to the art studio, we were told to sit opposite of another student. For the next two hours, we would carry out the daunting task of attempting to draw him/her without making them look absolutely horrible. I was reasured that Elyss, my drawing partner would forgive me. The most important aspect of actually drawing our partner's portrait was to get the proportions right. It is for this reason that Fenella advised us to break down the process of drawing a face into steps. Behind the art was the mathematics. We were required to divide the face using axes lines, leveling the eyes, nose, chin, mouth. There were definitely mathematical techniques to all of this and it was a matter of getting the bigger picture correct before pursuing the rest.
One also had to establish a personal relationship with the subject of the portrait. While drawing, Elyss and I conversed about our backgrounds and origins. This aided us in familiarizing ourselves with one another and to formulate a perception of the other person. This definitely influenced my drawing of her.
It was a very unusual experience because there would be times where we would need to make eye contact for a minute straight without uttering a word in order to capture every detail of the pupil: the glare, the complexity, the intimacy, the depth... By the mere expression on her face, my mind wandered into wondering about her past, what she was thinking at that moment, what are her future plans, was she thinking what was running through my own mind? It was a very absurd, yet intriguing experience.
Once my painting of her began to look ugly in my eyes, I began worrying that she might be disappointed; I began losing confidence. It was at this point that Fenella revealed the drawing to Elyss. The latter was more than forgiving with me, but Fenella gave me some pointers to improve my painting. I needed to add more volume to the lush black hair, I needed to capture the sorrow shades around her eyes, capture the curves of her slim long nose. I felt that Fenella was passing her artistic eyes on to me.
At the point when I felt that my drawing was complete, there was a small modification that I sought. This would lead me to changing a whole aspect of her face, like completely erasing the nose and starting all over again. Regardless of the setbacks I faces, I was learning by doing it myself. I experimented with shading, 3D illusions, details, etc... I was gaining more confidence, rushing to make alterations before they slipped my mind. It was like writing for me; I sought perfection, at least in my eyes.
Portrait of ElyssRealistically, I understand that my drawing of Elyss is far from complete, but it opened my heart to this new passion of drawing. I stuck around after the session to discuss some techniques about proportions with Fenella. Although I was looking forward to viewing the Picasso/Matisse gallery more carefully after the class, I felt the sudden urge to write, so I run home to pen the thoughts your read before your eyes...It amuses me how one passion stimulates the other.
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