Thursday, 28 April 2016
Thursday, 17 March 2016
i was too young when i realised conceptual art was bullshit. it began ten weeks before a sunday. the teacher said, 'do some conceptual art, bitches, so i can keep my job and abundant holiday allowance.'
fast forward to the day before my assignment is due, i wake up in a panic. i go wake my dad up in a panic. 'you have to take me to bunnings*, please!' i sound like i have an irrational love for building supplies. my dad looks at me, his eyes hurt with betrayal—sunday is the only day he let's himself sleep until 9 and i have woke him up at 7. 'it's for school, i left it last minute!' he obliges because i'm his only daughter and i could begin my teen rebellion at any moment.
'$12!? why are spray cans so expensive?' my dad is shocked and asks me why i don't just use a 2B pencil. i'd like to note at this point in my life, i had not a clue how much money adults made, so when my dad gasped at its expense, i took that as a 'we are getting the minimum amount required for this 'art' project despite me happily throwing away $50 for your half-hour piano lessons** over four unfruitful years.'
i pick*** 'red, because it's the colour of blood and suffering and all things deep artistically, and... black, because that's the colour of blood after oxidation.' my dad nods in approval. he gets id-ed at check out because he looks so young. (one time a lady on our block told my mum she had three fantastic kids, when my mum answered she only had two, they never spoke again.)
i get home and take a canvas from the garage, i line the drive way up with newspapers. how hard can this be? i'm holding the black spray paint canvas facing, just as i'm applying pressure to the nozzle, i suddenly realise i don't even know what i'm going to spray? what do i want the world to know? what is my legacy? a shape? a word? a— too late. the first blob appeared on the canvas. it's heavy and drips when i tilt the frame. great, now i have to spray this whole canvas to cover that up.
five minutes later: an utter mess. on some parts the paint cover everything, while other areas are thin enough you can still see the white of the canvas. i laugh at my own work. i grab the red can and spray a blob on the lower left third to create a composition. the fumes are getting to me, and my parents want me to clean up the drive way so they can back the car out for church. let's call this a day. 9:30 am. not bad.
the next day i hide my work behind the other pieces due to embarrassment. i don't even put my name on it. i think it's better not to get a grade then to be graded for whatever monster i created.
you know what happened?
weeks later my teacher is combing through the year level wondering who made that. i thought i was going to be in trouble. he's going through all the classes. i don't own up. i'm terrified of getting a fail even though i put absolutely no effort in it. the second time around he says 'whoever painted that isn't in trouble, if that's your concern.' the magic words that bring immunity to a high school student. i raise my hand and finally own up to it.
only now i had to prove it was mine by describing the piece he had been asking about for a week in extreme detail. i did. he accepted.
and you know what happened?
he said he really loved the piece and wanted the school board to buy it for $$$. i was speechless. i thought i was going to lose it. what. the. fuck. i was so mad they wanted to buy the shittest thing i ever made. i wanted to punch a wall then put a label underneath the mark:
she mad, 2005
fist, performance art
yet like all
great artists averagely average teens... i took the money.
* an oz version of home depot
** seriously though, shout out to asian parents who never go out to eat or buy new clothes for themselves so they can provide learning opportunities they didn't have for their kids
*** i chose spray paints because they are like ready to go paints, it's always ready and there's no mess in storage (this is not spray paint sponsored i was genuinely sick of spending time on paintings. i got things to do, man)
Wednesday, 2 March 2016
Wednesday, 17 February 2016
Monday, 15 February 2016
Thursday, 29 October 2015
my soul left hong kong two years ago but it still often comes up in conversation, usually with me saying 'yeah it was crazy' without further explanation followed by a credit length run of [uncomfortable laughter and/or short spasms] as the person i'm talking to tries to figure out if i'm sincere or deranged. tell me this isn't crazy:
- working 48 hours straight, finally breaking down at 3am and hailing a cab home in tears. only to repeat the same thing the next deadline. worst is when you try to find solace in others they will out-work you like 'well i worked 118 hours this week/haven't eaten since monday/fucked up a billion dollar sale' not even kidding.
- hiking to the infinity pool in man cheung po, it was crazy/beautiful.
- walking into a $$$ drug deal and the buyer pretending i was his friend so the dealer wouldn't murder me. juan de ablo (the fake name juan de ablo who clearly looked more like a 'dante' or 'levi' gave) probably wouldn't have murdered me because he also carried pizza deliveries on his vespa. people with vespas take you on romantic dates through the cobblestones of rome before convincing you to take the place of their singing collaborator at the italian music awards and despite what was sabotage, helps you actualise the confidence you have within.
- going to all the concerts phoenix/jamesblake/justin bieber/every other musician who landed in hong kong because one of my greatest friends was always given free tickets by his superiors to compensate how little he was paid for his actual job.
- being genuinely joyful and laughing on shoots with diane von fursteberg, olivier rousting, and other super inspirations i met.
- allowing a girl i crossed paths with once to crash at my apartment for the night. she ended up staying for four days, taking my headphones and a few hundred dollars when she reluctantly left. months later police call in and i find out she's a homeless runaway amongst other things (terrible things) (terrible terrible terrible things).
- have you ever been to mongkok on a saturday? 'yeah, crrrrrrrrazy.'
- falling sick for three months.
- spending several consecutive days on a yacht with a friend island hopping. it was like groundhog day, some days we picked up his acquaintances at central pier but would do the exact same things, visit the same places, eat the same food, at the same time. lots of writers and investors talking scripts and real estate, and when they didn't have anything else to say they would ask me if i have ever thought about dating someone the age of my dad and being able to travel wherever i want without financial worry. which prompted me to throw up overboard and give an answer at the same time.
- rats and cockroaches everywhere/running over your feet most days.
- being cyber bullied by a then 28-year-old kindergarten teacher who majored in psychology or something that makes you think she isn't bat shit insane. she thought i was 18/stealing her man/a regular at the tazman ballroom. i've never met her. i got messages from her through every channel on the internet. who cyber bullies someone 10 years younger than them? who cyber bullies aimee??? i pick up rubbish at the beach and eat rice??? i'm just a kid??? this experience was so traumatizing i couldn't stomach anything for days.
- have you seen pictures of hong kong?
- chilling with michelin star chefs and making food for them after they fed me some of the most amazing wonders on earth.
- i was playing basketball (crazy!). i tripped (crazier!). my knee got hurt (crazy!). then infected (crazier!). i ended up going to hospital a week later, chauffeured in a maybach belonging to a stranger who heard from the restaurant table next to mine that my knee was purple and gold and starting to accumulate moss-like substance. he came after my friend and i as we left halfway through the meal, 'you should take my car' and signaled for his driver to pull up in front of us before disappearing behind the noren.
unless this happens to everyone and i'm just a wide-eyed country bumpkin who's simple and plain and loves Jesus and thinks this is crazy.
Tuesday, 20 October 2015
i saw before me people rushing left and right, putting one dish after another on a round table. i was sitting on my grandfather's bed, my coat was big and puffy and kept me upright even though i kind of wanted to lie down. my aunties and uncle would smile at me as they walked by. i would smile back. i couldn't help it—when they smiled their bodies sheened a gold light so beautiful, i was forced to react with joy.
after the meal my aunties and uncle took me to watch a movie. they were definitely young and irresponsible because we ended up in the theatre of a horror film. i couldn't take it and put myself to sleep instead. my aunt woke me up as everyone was exiting the cinema. my entourage discussed the film as i trailed behind them on the walk after. they wondered if i'll have nightmares, before all agreeing in good humour they'll probably be more affected than me. no traffic was on the street and we stopped to admire the sunlight in the middle of a five way intersection. they laughed when they saw me squinting as the sun shone directly in my eye, and formed a wall to block the rays. i looked up at them, backlit—is this the defining moment of my life? have i experienced all the love and beauty this world has to offer already? how do i remember this moment?
i knew one of my aunties had a camera with her, and asked her if i could take a photo of them. my aunty thought i wanted a photo, and told me to move two steps to my right. ugh. talking when you're two is exhausting. i ask again to take a photo of them. they discussed whether it was safe to let me hold the camera, before finally handing it to me. i looked through the view finder. they shouted encouragements as i waited for them to stop shouting encouragements.
they stopped moving.
one of my aunties smiled.
everyone else remained stoic.
they stopped moving.
one of my aunties smiled.
everyone else remained stoic.
Saturday, 3 October 2015
Sunday, 7 June 2015
my mum used to make me elaborate sandwiches for lunch in primary school. multigrain rye with lettuce, alfalfa, cucumber, avocado and pickled relish. i would always throw it away because: 1. everyone else had sandwiches with spread only and would make fun of my lunch (now i know they were just basic bitches with basic sandwiches), 2. the cucumber would always get the bread soggy and 3. i was a dumbass kid who didn’t understand the value of food. fast forward to now, having been forced into controlling the contents of my own sandwiches since those childhood days—i have come to grow, respect, and appreciate this labour of love and symbol of life.
as we grow up we explore the world of sandwiches. in gansu, china, many are partial to roujiamo (肉夹馍), where a wheat-based flatbread in the shape of a disc called bing, is sliced up and stuffed with chopped or minced lamb, coriander and pepper. bing dates back to the qin dynasty (221 bc to 206 bc), making roujiamo a candidate for the world’s oldest sandwich. in australia, kids (myself included) all grow up big (5’10) and strong (i can do half a push up) thanks to vegemite, a spread made from left over brewer’s yeast. it’s often eaten on toasted bread above a layer of butter or margarine. how the vegemite fails many outside of australia--is because y’all spread this pungent and salty concoction like nutella. it’s not. it’s freaking leftover brewer’s yeast. i don’t know much about leftover brewer’s yeast you would eat but i would go easy on it. vegemite with avocado or tomato and pepper makes regular appearances in teacher’s lounges and on the morning tea plates of those between 15 to 85. through travelling and exploring, i’ve met the chip butty in england, the francesigna in portugal, the doner kebab on every street corner at 3 a.m., a katsu-sando in japan, the banh mi in vietnam and arepas in the US, because i have yet to go to venezuela. through terrain, ocean, and all forces of culture and nature, a sandwich is something almost all of us have in common, unless you’re low carb paleo, also known as: please check yourself.
people live sandwiches too. they make a living out of this and what a living it is. in new york city, my favorite food truck is the cinnamon snail. their sandwich flavors extend to lemongrass five spice, maple custard, korean bbq, thai bbq, creole, and i’m only scratching the sourdough surface. adam sobel, the owner, has been spreading his sandwich love for five years now. what started as a place for ‘the craziest architecturally looking entrees’ has since turned into a lunch staple for those working on the busy island. ‘it soon became evident that people weren’t going to eat crazy entrees, especially not on a paper plate on their lap on a park bench.’ adam muses while flipping tempeh on the grill, ‘it was also difficult creating crazy food within most people’s lunch budgets.’ a cinnamon snail sandwich sets you back $9, but the ethos of the business makes it a standout.
another thing that made sense in a particular moment that i have since come to question, was my quest to make the FIRSTLOVE sandwich—a combination of the most popular ingredients by my peers and fellow contributors (except for daniel because he once called me a food snob). of the twenty people i questioned on their sandwich preferences, i realised 1. i don’t know them at all and 2. did I ever know them? my favorite sandwich is sweet potato and arugula. my must-have in any sandwich is the bitter greens, something to kick you in the face, keep you on your toes. everyone else? four people favoured grilled cheese, another four declared their love for ‘turkey sandwiches’—i didn’t even know people consumed turkey outside of forced family gatherings, and two seattleites chose banh mi as the ultimate dream. other favorites were caprese, gherkin, mustard, BLT, steak, roast beef, ‘i prefer bagels’, a cuban sandwich and chicken pesto. a number of people just sound like they are putting last night’s dinner between two slices of bread (my favorite dinner-in-bread is ‘last night’s spaghetti’), but that’s what sandwiches are all about, right? everybody is able to make one.
of all the sandwich responses, queen of beauty and burgers anna mishke, and fashion designer enoch ho’s devotedness to the vietnamese banh mi sandwich really stood out to me which made me think the banh mi is a pretty damn sophisticated sandwich and punching way above the others.
the chewiness of the bread is essential. banh mi has a freshness to it, the pickled vegetables and grilled meat or pâté lend such a different flavor than any other type of sandwich. maybe i have some appreciation for it in my blood because i’m part vietnamese, but there’s really nothing better than tucking into a slightly tangy, savory sandwich that ends up leaving a literal breadcrumb trail.
the baguette, crispy at the shell but immediately soft, fluffily nestling the fillings. the pâté, strong and flavorful, followed by several layers of meat in different textures and chewiness. you’d think the sandwich is dry, but the buttery mayo sauce keeps the whole bite moist and aromatic. just when you think it’s too heavy, you feel the cucumbers, daikon, coriander and spring onions cutting in for a clean finish. there’s not a single more complex but well-balanced food on earth, with so many different flavors and textures that blend so well together into a salivating journey. now that i have tried pushing the banh mi as the deserved 1st place for sandwiches in a totally unbiased way, what are the must-have ingredients then? six people’s must-have is cheese, five people reasoned the important of a baguette, two chose bacon, two chose mayonnaise, and one each for salmon (bagel girl), lettuce, tomato, pickles, salt and pepper.
and now, let me present to you the ultimate FIRSTLOVE sandwich:
note: in hindsight please don't make that *right now* or delay its production for as long as you can because it sounds like your basic cardiac arrest recipe *insert very distraught face* and i want y'all to live to see equality. please learn about the meat and dairy industry before you consume them.
Friday, 15 May 2015
the light in new zealand is way harsher than new york, i overexposed three film rolls in a row. moving here from there is like having been in a deep asleep, only to wake up with the sun beaming through your windows. the light is blinding. the nearest person is 5 km away.
[the x-files theme plays]
[the x-files theme plays]