Make a list of what you want to do/see in KL, my sister told me, once the emails and SMSes containing excited exclamations about the impending trip, died down a little. That gave me pause. Aside from visiting every known kopitiam in the area for every meal, every day, it hadn’t occured to me to actually go see KL. PutraJaya (read about it here) ended up being one of the places this tourist was brought to see. I was a bit mystified by why we were going at night, but I’ve never been one to argue with a local, and a good thing too: Putrajaya is magnificent by night. All that great architecture, sculpted gardens, so incredibly lit against the night sky, was a sight to …
Thank you everyone for all your thought provoking responses on the last post. It’s given me a lot to chew on, amidst the fifty unrelated things I’ve been inundated with. So of course, I go nightwalking to give my head some room to breathe. Flemming’s comment hit on the reason that prompted me to write that post in the first place – that one needs to feel like a photographer from within, to own that identity. I am a lot of things – woman, colleague, wife, office monkey, walker, designer, internet addict etc. Some of these facets are consciously performed, some are bestowed on my by profession, status in society, and others I am compelled to do so by forces beyond my willing control. Photography …
I’ve been neglecting bus pictures of late. I got frustrated for a while there, as I kept taking the same sort of pictures over and over again, constrained by where I could sit to actually get these pictures, and the fact that I do take the same bus every day and its route doesn’t deviate.
Nightwalking is mostly a lonesome activity, one that requires solitude and space to exist. If you share it, it must be with someone who appreciates shadows, or it will lose its mystique and become a thing for all to see: a stroll.
Photographers that pursue long term projects usually possess a great amount of knowledge around their chosen subject matter, whether through extensive research, sheer curiosty, the love of it, necessity, or all of the above. At the outset of my now-labelled Realistic Project, I feel it’s important to establish that I know next to nothing about my chosen subject matter at this time, and that you’ll be following me on my journey of getting to know tugs, as well as my experiences of being on them.
Sometime back I was going on about this knee injury I had sustained, that was giving me cabin fever from the lack of movement.
I read a great article on the Importance of Personal Work by Nick Hall yesterday morning, thanks to the Pixelated Image twitter feed.
Across the road from the previously mentioned apocaplyptic interstellar vessel, is a likely facility of Dr Moreau‘s. What dark creatures are brought to life here?
I’ve never set foot into the WACA in all the years I’ve lived here. It always makes me think of an apocalyptic spaceship from an 80s sci-fi flick, in all its monstrous, gargantuan proportions, with a weird fragile melancholy. Its outer walls made for a great exploratory nightwalking session, when I finally decided to take a good look at the concrete beast that crouches down the road from where I work. There are lots of images in this post, so be warned if you’re on a slower connection.
Home, where the heart is. Plain enough of a concept, one I’ve never grasped. “Home” to me, has always meant “the place where I’m staying,” sans the inherent warmth and glow and ties and sentiments that the word evokes. It’s simply a dwelling I come back to after the working day, shower, eat and sleep, a place where my stuff is stored.