And, finally, we came up with a more compound one, attempting to study, if not defy, the limits of style, structure, and media, thus, departing from the margins while keeping space, as we know it, undefined, so to speak. With the book’s dynamic approach to an age when we are all subject to compartmentalized outlooks and fed with a prepackaged sense of identity, it’s a challenge to insist on finding meaning and value in ubiquity.
Continue reading here.
Sometimes, while you’re trying to outsmart time behind your work desk, you meet with your thoughts and ask questions you dare not ask your kitties. Then you try to find a way to impart that conversation to any surface you can find. And when you do find it, the universe simply opens up its doors to usher you in.
View more sketches and scribbles here.
It’s not everyday that I bump into a dear friend online. But what’s more thrilling is that, once I do, I am greeted with such artistic charm and passion. This is what I see in these Baybayin calligraphic impressions intricately penned by alurij_. Dig into it and admire the beauty of a culture embedded in each delicate stroke.
Mini musing: We read ingredients in the same way we read terms and conditions.
As I was preparing for more exciting features for Lines of Lila, I tried out the Autodesk Sketchbook Flipbook and thought of making an animated teaser. It was fun! Watch the line breaker in action. Well…sort of. 😀
Mini musing: I think, therefore I need coffee.
Kubo and the Two Strings. I have a few words. It is a story that makes you cry from the inside. What it never tells is what moves you. I didn’t watch it in 3D or 2D or IMAX or with any cinematic paraphernalia. The experience was raw, down-to-earth, as the film itself manifests, it brought me closer to home.
But beyond the symbolism, the mythology, the haiku, the origami, the shamisen, the kabuki, the Edo period, cultural sensibilities, and all, Kubo and the Two Strings spins strings of flashbacks that may bind us to long forgotten roots. As the shamisen pulls on the heartstrings, embedding a kind of unspeakable yearning for the departed, the plot went on reeling the thread of immortality as it did the mundane. Indeed, death benumbs itself.
I’ll leave this piece with my hat off to Laika because, since Coraline, it’s guaranteed that stop motion animation will never again lose its way inside our memories. So before you head to the theater, here’s a beautiful cover of “While My Guitar Gently Weeps” for your listening pleasure.
Mini musing: Life is a matchstick. The end.
Before I share my brief thoughts on Disney’s Alice Through the Looking Glass, first, I would like to share this adorable message from the Red Queen which I’m sure you’ll all heart.
Now, back to my thoughts. Disney’s production team, famous for its elaborate visual fetishization of Tim Burton’s 2010 Alice in Wonderland, brings us this new not-so-Tim-Burtonish loose adaptation of Lewis Carroll’s 1871 novel, Through the Looking Glass. Disney’s film version, Alice Through the Looking Glass, which I will refer to as ATLG, takes us back to the “Underland” with a multi-plot time travel theme minus the time travel paradox. And, guess what? The Thenardiers had a touching reunion, too. Aww. Knowing Carroll as a pedantic logician, the sequel, or should I say, prequel, seemed to have missed some spots in nailing a good interpretation of the illusions of Time, who in this film sports a clumsy mustache and an infamous Borat expression. So, learning from ATLG that we all literally travel through time, at least geographically, we are taught that you can break, steal, escape, or even mock Time with possible consequences, of course. The whole conundrum the characters had to surpass is mandatory to make Mr. Mad Hatty mad again. Ha-ha!
The production’s creatives, under the steering wheel of director James Bobin, breathe into the film a quasi-surrealist, quasi-realist historical timelapse toward the all-mechanical industrial era, juxtaposing the bland, almost draggy Victorian backdrop, in which the silly but empowered protagonist, The Alice, defeated the Jabberwocky poem. He, he. No spoilers here. Fairly speaking, I was quite enamored by the visuals, especially the sort-of-Victorian set, with a little help from my spectacles and my 3D glasses. Yes. It’s pure MADNESS!!! On a side note, I got to watch the film on two pairs of looking glasses while drinking a cup of symbolism. Overall, ATLG is not really that bad for a screen adaptation. It’s just that, time flies so fast ATLG’s plot could hardly catch up with it. Sigh. So I highly recommend that you grab a popcorn now and read the book. My verdict: 4/10 (the additional 3 was for the 3D effects, in case you’re wondering).
oh, super goo
how ze adore you
pamper the quick fixes
of the whinny super gloo
gloo to the gums and boo
that do gummy bubble gammy
in the loo
oh, super goo
ditzy little substance
for the gooey, gooily
you, goo-goo eyes
quit this Friday zoo
I’m sharing here my recent blog entry at Lines of Lila. Nothing much, just something I thought I’d write to critic and contradict myself. And yes, it’s about the self, hence, the title “selfie”. I hope you enjoy reading it.
(An excerpt from A selfie of an artist amid a day job, an e-store, bots, and trolls)
And a blog, too! I cringe at the thought of having to balance between life as I know it and life as I imagined it to be. But there’s barely a thin line between imagination and reality. Oftentimes, you jolt out of your reveries from a dog’s bark to find your actual place in this world. Well, frequently at this time and age, you locate yourself with a little help from Google map.
Selfie with a day job
I am aware that there are artists who keep their “day jobs” as visual artists, which is admirable, hence, as some would say, I’d fall under the category of a Sunday artist. Only problem is, I barely have a concept of days. My week comprised of a Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Yesterday, and Today. While on my “day job”, I’d daydream my way into believing that all the task I do is for the betterhood of art. Henceforth, the betterhood of the whole wide world. I’d weave around this mental cult without disbelief. I’d strive to reach the pinnacle of creativity, as a copywriter a la social media trumpet and a lot more. I’d suck art’s soul to its last breath. But a little empathy would grab me from the neck with a reprimand: “Leave the last breath for tomorrow. The rice is now boiling”.
Balancing the life of an artist and an employee, I’d realize at first that in my case, there’s really not much of a borderline…continue reading.