All of these posts are originally on livejournal.com, I have just implemented them all now into wordpress. Please feel free to click on the hyperlinks below to see the original posts. All of these posts were from 2009.
Week 02 Click here
This entry was half inspired from when i was walking to uni and saw a dandylion floating infront of me and it reminded me of when i was a kid, how i used to wish upon them. instantly my second thought was about what we were learning in literature. How we don’t enjoy the imagination like how we used to when we were young because of the humility it will bring as an adult.
Still on the same event of waking up early… this next one is abit more straight forward..
How I missed it. I get so excited when we’re in class or a lecture and the teacher brings up art. All of a sudden I get a rush of thoughts and I just want to explode because I would love to tell everyone about it.
Studying Art through literature is indeed a different scope for me and it is so very intriguing, ESPECIALLY since I am also studying history… I can really see, feel and understand how everything is interrelated. What happens in history impacts the people, therefore impacts the artists which impacts the poets or vice versa.
I always knew it was just a pretty picture trying capture the scene realistically. But what I didn’t know was the personal beliefs and sources of inspiration from the Romantic Artist. Something I only found out through literature.
The one thing I noticed most about Romantic art is that there are many stories to one picture… hence why a picture paints a thousand words. But that became most apparent to me in the tutorial this week.
Looking at the various artworks such as the ones below…
Through my previous knowledge of art, I was instantly able to decode these artworks based on their conceptual frameworks. However, I did not explode with my knowledge of the art works, as instead… I listened to everyone else’s interpretation of the artworks. All were saying
“It looks like…”
It was this that fascinated me.
Everyone’s thoughts, assumptions, guesses, perspective,
And then I think back to what Romantic artists and writers were fascinated in. And they were fascinated in the very notion of imagination itself. Through this I realised that through nature, Romantics were inspired and able to ignite the inner imagination of their audiences.
Just looking at these images, we are able to see the mysticism and the half stories that speak to us as we try and understand what is happening. This becomes a process of imagination and sparks thoughts like “maybe this…” “Maybe that…”
How about… maybe the artwork is whatever we want it to be.
Week 05 Click here
I’m not quite sure how this entry came along … I think it started when MG talking about Wordsworth, on the topic that nature can heal a broken soul. My train of thought went from feeling human emotions => why do we feel emotional pain so strongly => why can’t we be as peaceful… as careless as things other than humans like a fish, or a tree, or a lion, or a rock, a wall! => Why must we feel this heavy emotional pain that breaks a human soul?
This train of thought eventually ended up with me thinking about walls. Ending up with a completely different topic and different piece of writing…
I block, I divide the space of this home
Listened to you late on the phone
I reflect disturbances from the outside
Absorb the chaos from inside.
Graffiti me with crayons, pencils and stencils
Cover me with paper and stickers and posters
But I will always witness all for those that cannot see.
Within these walls I watched you grow,
Recorded your height on the corner of my wall,
I listened when you wished upon the stars
Watched you eat the cookies from the jar,
I helped you sneak out late at night,
felt your passions explode and ignite.
You punched me hard
when anger took control
I watched you cry and laugh at nothing at all.
You yelled and danced and sang to me
You talk to me when you were alone
I am your friend
But you left me when you founda new home.
Well as you can tell, it is a completely different train of thought from when I began…
But, oh well what can you do? Well anyway this entry reminded me of when my family decided to move homes. After 17 years in one home, I found it a bit hard to leave… In fact I was the last one that moved out. I couldn’t really figure out why it meant so much to me moving homes… but now the picture is a lot clearer. The walls of my home have witnessed the exact same memories that I have… only it does not have the power to forget. marie.
Week 06 Click here
Mariana page 1112
Ironically, the boringness of this poem appealed to me.
BORING is exactly her life when she was not wed. It’s something very understandable, especially for that time and age. Surely we can all relate to this when we find trouble going through a break up. It’s like life seems to be meaningless. But interestingly enough… the length of this boring poem just dragged on to 7 long stanzas whereas break up poems these days don’t seem to be that long (well the very few that I’ve read anyway). But this just shows me how deeply it affected this person even more due to the culture of the time.
To me, this poem was explored deeper when I went to a funeral the next day. I didn’t personally know the person but seeing firsthand the impact of losing someone so dear to you just reminded me of this poem because Alfred, Lord Tennyson was writing as if her partner died when really it was just because she could not get married. Anyway to the end of this rant, I just thought it would be nice to livejournal the fact that this poem’s boringness made me look deeper into the actual reality of the poem. See… it’s good to be bored sometimes!
Week 07 Click here
Mmmmm.. very much needed. Perfectly timed too!
After handing in two assignments in the previous week a week off is just P E R F E C T.
Although, I must admit with another two assignments that were due on the week of return, it wasn’t really much of a break. Anyway, for this week’s entry I thought I’d write about my much needed adventure to rehabilitate from mass uni burn out!
With heavy thoughts in considering to start my upcoming assignments, I’ll admit I’m so glad that I didn’t hit the books straight away otherwise I would have gone mental. Instead I toured my overseas cousins around the city. I love the city, I’m there almost every day! But this day was different, I can’t really explain it but I will try my best. I think I just saw a different side to the city that I failed to see before.
So I don’t bore you with a diary entry, I’ll just skip to the good parts…
It was a B E A U T I F U L L autumn day, the sun was high with little clouds and there were little breezes that passed through every now and then. After an hour’s walk (already hot and sweating), we hit Chinese Gardens at Darling Harbour. Upon entry a big breeze circulated the garden and escaped through the front entry where I stood. Passing straight through me, it felt like that first waft of air conditioning on a hot summers day that makes you just go “Ahhhhhhhh… that’s just what I needed!”
At the gardens…. it’s really hard to describe the beauty of it because I don’t want to down grade it with words that are used so often today that they have little significant meaning. Words such as
“Beautiful” “Amazing” “WOW”
Well… I couldn’t find myself any other words to explain it. These are the only words that come to mind which makes me wonder why it is so hard to explain nature’s beautifications. I took a couple of photos because I know my explanation of the gardens will fail.
Best part about this place is listening to the winds that pass through. It’s almost like you actually feel these winds with your whole body. You can see it skimming across the water or moving the trees rhythmically and hear it ruffling the leaves. It really is a place of tranquil revitalisation. I sat there for hours unaware that time was still moving. Amazing how something can exist in the heart of a busy city, yet it still propels such strong tranquillity.
Anyway, the next highlight of my day was this particular tree at Botanica Gardens next to the Opera House. This tree was
M A S S I V E ! ! ! The sizes of its roots were overwhelming! There was something about it that just gravitated me towards it so much. The fact that it looked so old made me wonder how old it really would be. Has to be at least 100 years old! If it was so old, so ancient, I wonder how it survived so long, what it would have seen, experienced through its age. All of a sudden I begin to feel that this tree is wise almost as if it had something to teach if only we could understand it.
The other element that drew me towards this tree was the fact that it was so mysterious. Maybe because it was sunset at the time, or maybe because it was simply an old tree. But there was such a strong element of mystery around it, yet it still looked so peaceful. I tried to capture some of these qualities with a few pictures. I don’t know, tell me if you guys get where I’m coming from with these pictures…
Week 08 Click here
I MUST agree that he is a master writer. Crossing the boundaries, Tolstoy beautifully addresses themes of themes and issues that no one dares to go. Just summing things up, I became incredibly sympathetic to Evan Ilych. It’s one thing to die alone, but not have the courage to verbalise his dying wishes to his family makes it worse. I tried to re-create the Tolstoy’s notion of surface relationships with no deep connection of real relationship between Evan and his wife. However as I was writing this, I found that it accidentally became a personal piece where I found myself able to connect to Evan.
Presence of your Absence
Hey how are you? Yes I’m good and you? I’m good. That’s good, we’re good…
So what you been up to? Oh you know, this and that, nothing much and you? Same old same old, yeah nothing much.
Morning to evening
Day to night
We stand together in separate life
Empty words come out your mouth
When truly it’s nothing you care about.
Without a burning smile of spark
Or dominoe of affect
Thoughts to rewind back to the start,
To the day that we first met.
Within your eyes the light has died,
The careless way you look at me.
The draining way we physically meet
Touchless extinguished heat.
Day to night and back to day
Another lifeless rotation that fades away
Liberated soul you die within
Yet physical body continuing
To try and hide this death inside
And strength of your soul do I rely
I fought for you, you won’t comply
I fought for us, you still deny.
You’re holding on to whatever’s left
I won’t let go till you let go
Or till the last of our breath..
Week 09 Click here
Tragedy VS Comedy
The cherry orchard
Written in satire to make social criticisms, Chekhov’s The Cherry Orchard is questionably a tragedy. Apparently Chekhov was angry that this was titled a tragic play and I understand why. When you title it as a tragedy, audiences tend to focus on that aspect paying less attention to Chekhov’s satire and criticism on society. I myself see it as a comedy, but I also see where the tragedy lies. In the play, there was a line that stuck to me in relation to this debate:
“To weep with joy”
This quote just reminded me of… You may think I’m very strange… but let’s hope not because I know this has happened to you too. There are moments in your life where something horrible has happened or you just found out about some bad news or you hurt yourself or someone hurt you… and all you can do I laugh when you want to cry. And so you get those moments when you are upset and you start crying but you’re laughing at the same time. DON’T DENY IT!! I KNOW THIS HAPPENS TO YOU TOO!! I’M NOT CRAZY! Some part of aches in emotional or physical pain that you are so overwhelmed that you cry. And for some unknown reason we laugh and it is just an outburst. Which emotion do you follow? Well it doesn’t really matter because you can’t follow the emotion for both just completely take over you. And I don’t know why… but whenever these moments happen to me, I feel liberated in a way. Something about it just makes me feel better in the end of my episode. Maybe it’s that fact that you’re releasing all these emotions. Who knows! All I know is that at the end of it laugh at myself for being so ridiculous and laughing and crying at the same time. Well anyway, this quote reminded me of those times. It really is an odd moment to encounter, to weep with joy.
Week 10 Click here
this isnt finished yet due to so many assignments due.. but i thought i’d write in a couple of thoughts to help me abit later ..
Inspired by Checkhov’s Cherry Orchards, his criticism of this family holding onto their home and refusing to move forward. I begin to wonder where the line is between hope and being delusional. Is there a line at all? Or is hope and delusion the same thing, just with elements of denial. Guilty we are for deceiving others, but more so guilty for deceiving ourselves. Is hope a way we deceive ourselves? Ironically it can be, but it can also be a way we find our self through this. And we do desire to stop time to hold onto the sweet moments. We hope until we are strong enough to realise that it’s ok to let go. We deny until everything catches up to us in every form of reality. We hurt. We humiliate ourselves. But do we regret? I guess some may. But I personally don’t because it makes us stronger. Your greatest weakness can be your greatest strength. Just like Checkhov’s characters in The Cherry Orchard they never would have been able to face the real world, pursuing individual careers and education if they did not face and lose to the dilemma of losing their home. So no, don’t forget, don’t regret. But hope? Why? It seems to delude us from reality. I don’t mean to be so negative and so blunt, but there really is a thin line.
Week 11 Click here
oh my. SOOOO MANY GOOD QUOTES a man before his time, who acted in the purest form of humanity. a man who questioned everything but restricted nothing i ABSOLUTELY adored his speech whilst on trial:
–“The Love that dare not speak its name” in this century is such a great affection of an elder for a younger man as there was between David and Jonathan, such as Plato made the very basis of his philosophy, and such as you find in the sonnets of Michelangelo and Shakespeare. It is that deep, spiritual affection that is as pure as it is perfect. It dictates and pervades great works of art like those of Shakespeare and Michelangelo, and those two letters of mine, such as they are. It is in this century misunderstood, so much misunderstood that it may be described as the “Love that dare not speak its name,” and on account of it I am placed where I am now. It is beautiful, it is fine, it is the noblest form of affection. There is nothing unnatural about it. It is intellectual, and it repeatedly exists between an elder and a younger man, when the elder man has intellect, and the younger man has all the joy, hope and glamour of life before him. That it should be so the world does not understand. The world mocks at it and sometimes puts one in the pillory for it.
What a brilliant remake of “one man’s junk is another man’s treasure”. Poison . We completely let this “posion” seep into our minds and bodies, straight to the very heart. In fact, this poison is so infectious that we search deeper into the tect to search for more poison to feed us. So infectious that we walk away from the text continually thinking about what we have just read. We take it on board our daily lives of entrapment.
From De Profundis
By Oscar Wilde
Is without doubt, one of the best pieces of literature I have ever read! And I will continue to read throughout my lifetime for I know, being human, that I will forget these messages I should never forget. In my life so far everything used to be picture perfect until events and scenarios happened where I could not make decision on what was right in accordance to how I had been brought up. Through confusion, trial and error, I experienced an unsheltered world where everything is not as perfect as I wished they had been. M I S T A K E S were made, although I’m not sure if “Mistake” is the right word for it, because I’m not if I would want to change any of my “mistakes” if I went back in time. If I did… what would I have learnt from it? Nothing. What life experience would I have? None. It was bound to happen one way or another. Acceptance of the choices made is something really hard to do. It takes a lot of time for this acceptance to occur. As you can tell by Oscar Wilde’s ‘De Profundis’ it took him quite some time to write this entry whilst he was locked up.
Humility. We have learned. We can never learn enough though.
Life is our greatest teacher.
“Nobody, great or small, can be ruined except by his own hand”
“I have got to make everything that has happened to me good for me”
“I will not say that it is the best thing that could have happened to me, for that phrase would savour of too great bitterness towards myself.”
“Absorb into my nature all that has been done to me, to make it part of me, to accept it without complaint, fear, or reluctance.”
Do not hide your misadventures, nor forget them, for they are a part of your life now. And by acceptance, you have learned one of the hardest virtues humanity has deals with…
h u m i l i t y