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It's been about two weeks since my last post about Australia. As I'm writing this, my life has made a 30 degree turn. I changed from summer to winter within 12 hours. At 6 o'clock in the morning, I found myself breathing in the icy air of the Netherlands again after abandoning it for 6 months. Welcome home, at the other side of the world. It's as if nothing really happened. About three hours after arrival, I worked at the shop. Four hours later and I'm cleaning the house. Ten hours later and I'm gift-wrapping my Christmas presents. Another fourteen and I'm just dwelling in the house in my pajamas, I don't even remember what I was doing. One day later, after much procrastination, I finally managed to kick myself in the butt and start unpacking my luggage. Old clothes have found their way in plastic bags, drawers have made place for even more books and my closet is slightly rearranged, waiting for entanglement two months later. Today, pajamas again, and I've given in to boredom by starting to watch Once Upon a Time.

Everything just happened like that. Snap, and I'm back to reality. It's as if I never travelled to the other side of the world. Of course, what did I expect? No matter where we fly to, we take our baggage with us. Before leaving Sydney, I stayed three days in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia. There are stories about New Zealand, Australia and Malaysia that are still left untold. While packing all of my old and new stuff, I didn't forget to pack my stories too. They are there, somewhere, in the corner of my mind. But once I finish typing them down, what will become of me and my writing? What will I write about? What exciting pictures will I take for Project365? Big plans, big dreams, but little motivation and destination.

Don't take me wrong, it's okay to be home. I've flown so much over the past few months, it's almost insane to think that 6 months ago I was thrilled to realise that I would make my first long flight without my parents. It's more that everything will fall into routine again once I'm here. I feel drained, despite having had the opportunity to take some rest during Christmas. My laptop has died, and so I can't do much but type. Not much tinkering with software. I wonder when was the last time I've drawn something; that was probably when I attended UNSW's Art and Drawing Society's weekly sketch meets. When was the last time I wrote a poem? My second poetry slam performance on the second Tuesday of December in Sydney. When did I last touch a piano? In KL, where I couldn't bring my fingers to utter anything but 'Frère Jacques' because I had forgotten the three other songs I could ever play by heart: 'Numb', 'La Valse d'Amelie' and 'While your lips are still red'.

It's almost New Year, and with that, many new resolutions will meander through some dreamer's head. In the end we all want the same thing: to better ourselves. I've tried so long to heal that I'm starting to wonder if anything I ever did helped at all. They say we will always stumble and fall; that in the end we always stand up again and start walking. What's the point of walking when there's no destination? They say it's not always about the end of the road, but the road itself. On my road I see nothing much. Work and study. Work and study, That's how it's always been since I was a kid. The difference is that I'm turning my ugliness inside-out for the world to see, even though it's just a matter of time before I go in hiding again. But I don't want that, I'm sick of it. I'm sick of people telling me that what I feel is wrong or not as bad/real as it seems. No one has the right to judge what I feel, or to take that away from me. We live in a generation of twitter storms and freedom of speech, yet people always seem to feel privileged to say: "Shut the fuck up and stand back in line".

I didn't go to university to have my childhood repeat on me. I didn't study engineering to stand back in line and think inside the box. I didn't start writing and stand in front of the microphone just to have my voice shoved back into my throat. Don't tell me what to feel or where to head. Don't tell me how to dress or how to dye my hair. The only one you'll ever have to look at is the one facing you in the mirror. Judge that, not me. If you don't like my rock music, turn on your own beloved radio. If you think my words are too depressing, write your own. Home isn't where the heart is, it's where we feel safe to be ourselves.

The Art of the Brick: DC Comics

It's happening in Sydney right now: pay 22 dollars and the Flash will grab you by the waist, run back in time and bring you back to your childhood. Or, well, maybe not the Flash, and no grabbing, but surely one artist in particular knows how to take the pages from those long-yellowed comic books and turn them into sculptures made of Lego. Lawyer by day, Lego artist by night. Nathan Sawaya managed to use thousands of bricks to sculpt an incredibly colourful and marvellous exhibition: The Art of The Brick: DC Comics.



Most children growing up knew about the blue bird with the red cape, or its darker opposite. Superman and Batman, with their unoriginal names, have made it through with their super stories to become original in each child's memory. Children spend their years looking up to people, due to their height, but probably also due to their curiosity. The art of storytelling is an ancient one and keeps growing, from 2D to 3D, from paper to plastic. Artists, whether they are writers or painters, all seek to communicate a story even when they claim that an artwork is about nothing. The journey to that nothingness is a story, and so, this world is full of stories, but not only for those who are young at heart.

"A story can make us cry and laugh, break out hearts or make us angry enough to change the world." ~ Grant Morrison 

This is a quote I stole from one out of many text balloons which were painted on the walls at the exhibition, both humorously and wisely fencing off different sections of the exhibition. Of course, we can't let the light meet darkness, can we? But I've always noted that the light does not exist without darkness, and Nathan seems to grasp this concept very well as he visualises the coexistence of superheroes and villains with tiny injection-moulded bricks.

'Yellow' reminded me of Superman, how he always takes off his office suit with that pose to reveal a big emblem clinging tightly to his muscular chest. However, 'Yellow' is much deeper than that, as it resembles the artist's transition to opening up to the world.



Upon entering the exhibition, 'Yellow' (the right-hand image) was the first sculpture to be encountered, spilling bricks right from the torso: delicious. Of course the exhibition staff had warned us beforehand: it's tempting, but don't touch any of the sculptures. Oh, if only I could've just poked one of those plastic intestines, just to see if it would break the magic: these perfectly, randomly placed bricks that had rushed out of this yellow man's body. But before I could commit that crime I was ushered into a room with a screen that would contain the very creator of the yellow man I was about to touch out of curiosity.

The video explained the inspiration behind the exhibition. A passionate voice told us about the stories that each superhero holds, and prompted us to think about how none of these stories would come into existence if superheroes did not have an equally super-powered villain. Indeed, what would Superman do if he didn't have to take care of a thousand human lives each day? Would he be asked to fly up a tree and save a scared cat? I don't think that would make such a flashy story.

But all philosophy aside, Nathan also seemed to have a humorous side attached to him, as the video ended with 'Yellow' being animated into creation just as in the beginning, except that some thunderclouds and flickering at the end suddenly revealed a painted face and the maniacal cackling of the Joker. Upon exiting the make-shift cinema area, we were encountered with the lunatic version of 'Yellow'. This proved to me that, for once, I might be interested in reading all the side-notes that accompany sculptures in a museum.

Superheroes in their most exceptional moments: while saving lives or taming evil. Even though it seems to me that Superman is trying to jam the car into that rock, haha.



Superman and Wonderwoman, funnily held upright with two transparent wires as if they are puppets.



The first section of the exhibition contained a gallery of superpowers. Of course, superman  or the Justice league couldn't afford not being a part of this. I found myself enjoying the ambience even though they were horrible for my smartphone camera. The walls were plastered with comic book chapters and each superhero (or pair of superheroes) had their own cubicle with a spotlight aiming on them. It's like walking through a gallery of fame. Most of these sculptures would've probably reached my knee, and there were at least 20 of them. So whilst tiptoeing and kneeling, I'd read about them all.

Most of them were unfamiliar to me, as I only jumped on the superhero wagon no longer than a few years ago, when the cinemas eagerly started telling us about another Marvel movie coming out over and over again. I know, I know, shame on me talking about Marvel while writing about a DC Comics exhibition. Who's side am I on anyway? Quite honestly, I am more familiar with Marvel's characters, but then again, once you enter the exhibition you will leave all of these silly, side-taking grudges outside. Even with minimal knowledge, you will come to enjoy these colourful sculptures, if not just for Nathan's sense of humour or time investment. All the side-notes will state how many bricks were used for the particular sculpture, but if you're lucky some will also tell you how many Tacos it took the artist to create that plastic work of art standing in front of you.

Behold: Aquaman's rubber ducky. As an explanation, Nathan wrote that he wanted to put Aquaman in an environment which was both enjoyable for the superhero and Nathan himself, as he spends many an hour in a bathtub.



Of course, that's not why you came here, right? Well, here it is, the Justice League, each sculpture probably taller than yourself.



The above works of art must've taken many, many Tacos to be created. Just take a look at Superman's cape or Wonder Woman's Lasso. What's more, all of these stances must've fought against gravity during creation. These sculptures are mostly monochromatic, which effectively highlights each of these superhero's charisma. Yet, a superhero would not be complete without his or her own logo, and so these are crisply captured in brick with another colour. Each of these superheroes are considerably placed on their own pedestal. Even though already outstanding om their own, the background art further sophisticates their character.

Throughout the exhibition, Nathan seems to balance well between art and engineering. The fact that nothing has toppled over as I passed by already proves his success. The bricks must not only stay standing, they must also keep floating as was already apparent in Superman's cape. If that impressed you, then how about this Invisible Jet below? Surely, it's less mathematics to keep this one floating, but imagine how it must be like to watch this floating artwork from different angles and still making out the jet-shape out of it? Nathan has made the invisible visible, but the transparency of this work keeps reminding us how it is indeed almost invisible. The artist himself has struggled while dropping these invisible bricks on the floor. Aye.

Wonder Woman's 'Invisible Jet'.

Even though the exhibition is about superheroes and super villains, the thought that any of us could be considered superheroes does not escape us, as the notes seem to lead us into a story of self-exploration. Of course, children will braid forward on their stories, and adults will revisit their inner-child, but both are steered by their ability to dream. Nathan didn't become this renowned artist within a day. He's been a lawyer when he just started building with Lego as a means of stress-relief at night. It's hard to follow our passions, especially in a world where survival equals having money. Yet, we do not have to be booming superstars or life-savers to be considered a hero. Nathan implicitly points this out as he shares stories about his mother as well. A connection to being human is made at several points of the exhibition.



'Amazon Warrior'. Bricks: 12559 - 160 x 58 x 51 cm

"There have always been strong women in life, starting with my mother. She had two kids, but she was also the manager at the local weekly newspaper. Besides making sure we got to school, and to our sports activities, and Cub Scouts. etc. she also had to make sure an issue of the paper went out every week. [...] But running the paper wasn't all that she did. She also found time to make sure we had breakfast every morning, packed lunched for school, and help run the household. And she did it all without an invisible jet. I wonder how she did it?" ~ Nathan Sawaya

The word 'Empowerment' hung above these plastic columns of liquefied (brick-ified?) superheroes. I wonder what it means, just mere fun or a slight indication that we could build (and be) our own superheroes?

'Pushing'. Bricks: 8,478 - 33 x 137 x 142 cm

"Superman's cape is probably the most recognizable symbol in comic book history. Pushing is an exploration of how we all create obstacles for ourselves. Even the all-powerful Superman has obstacles. We all create out own obstacles in life, thinking we can't do this, or don't have the courage to do that. Pushing is a physical manifestation of that very prosaic, very human struggle for Superman." ~ Nathan Sawaya

The stories which are shared vary from being personal, inspiring, funny, philosophical, or all of them at once. Without them, I probably wouldn't have spent 2 hours in the exhibition, as I'd speed through it taking pictures of the things I liked. The words that came with 'Pushing' illustrated a beautiful analogy that kept me thinking about how I've always held myself back from doing things just because I wouldn't be 'good enough'.

Even with this blog, while spending at least 5-6 hours writing each post and having barely a hand full of readers, it is sometimes demotivating to think about those good-for-nothing few hours. I've been thinking about expanding this blog when I go back home, making it more professional, but then I thought: why should I, not like I've ever succeeded at gaining popularity on the internet. But if I didn't write all of this down then all of my pictures would go to waste: tucked away in some hard drive until one day I cannot find it anymore. If I don't add words to my pictures I will just forget about them, and a mountain will just be a mountain, a mountain without stories.

Superman keeps flying up and down...

The Flash leaves scarlet streaks behind as he runs back and forth ...

But they also stand still and focus on on what they have become.

And so, I must tread on with my stories. The superheroes do it all the time, just much faster and to much greater lengths. Sometimes it is important to stand still as well, and sometimes I wonder if Superman ever pauses when he emerges from the clouds, just to enjoy the sky. During the exhibition, I once caught myself taking pictures of a note before even reading it. I almost felt as if I had just spent 20 minutes photographing a hamburger while being hungry as hell. When I was at the end of the exhibition, I put away my phone and walked back again just to make sure I didn't lose myself while staring at the screen.

One of my favourite places to go was definitely Arkham City. The suspense-killing music was there, the lightning and the dark atmosphere. These teeny tiny bits of decoration just add much more character to the sculptures. Artworks never stand on their own, even the way a painting is perceived can be changed if it is put somewhere else. Dada's toilet work is a celebrated artwork in the museum, but barely distinguishable from other objects if it were to be put on the dumping ground. Batman is the dark knight and so his surroundings must play along.

Welcome to the Batcave.

New and old villains appear, serving as the other half of Batman. Would Batman still be who he is without the Joker?

Out of all villains, the Joker is probably my favourite because he does not need superpowers, he just has an insanely brilliant (albeit disturbing) mind. Harley Quinn fell in love with this mind while she was appointed as the  Joker's psychiatrist. I've always had an interest in mental illnesses, and it just amazes me how these criminals manage to outwit their enemies with their unconventional streams of thought. As of late I have been hooked on the crime thrillers by Gillian Flynn as well. There is something mind-boggling about insane intelligence. Of course I can only say this because its a fictional world we are speaking of, and Batman will have his way because he's the hero. Credit must be given to him because he is a very disciplined, avant garde soul (with lots of money), who taught himself to fight for justice (and earned lots of money).

But this is not meant to glamorise the dark, merely to acknowledge its existence and potential. I have always been someone who's interested in contrast, and therefore this exhibition interested me so much. Nathan seems to agree that one side does not exists without the other, it is something some people forget all the time. We could not reach the top without having people below us to step on, yet we look down on them. We couldn't be happy if we didn't know sadness. We all try so hard to block the dark and negative out of our lives, shushing it away as if it's a taboo, while forgetting it's what made us what we are today. If I could ask the Flash to bring me back in time, I wouldn't want that anymore, despite craving it so much as a teenager. I enjoy revisiting a childhood I didn't have, I enjoy letting my mind wander and building my story brick by brick.

Of course, no Lego Exhibition without our own playground.

Many children before me have unleashed their imagination here. Brick by brick.

The story of The Art of the Brick ended with a sculpture of a kid, wearing a colourful cape. Nathan calls it the soul of the exhibition. Why? "Because what you are looking at is the child that lives in all of us." Nathan urges us to think about who were as a kid, and who we wanted to be. What dramatic dreams did you have as a kid, and how many of them did you throw away?

I've wasted so much time contemplating why I had wasted so much time as a teenager, without doing a thing. I guess being here in Sydney has put me on a new track as I've never been to so many places in such a short time. I am not just talking about places that are only reached by airplane, but also those tiny events no one would know about if they didn't look for them. My head has been filled with art and poetry to the brim and I am still not done writing about all of it. Sometimes, it's tiring to do it. Sometimes, it takes a month before I start doing it, but in the end I am mostly glad that I did do it. I am definitely aware that it's the island speaking: a foreign country with so much to explore and so much more spare time. All I can hope for is that this thirst for exploration and storytelling will keep nudging me as I fly back to where I came from.


'Hero Within'. Bricks: 6,670 - 135 x 147 x 51 cm.

I am not a Hero Within, and I will never be. But I do remember where I come from, which places I would and wouldn't revisit. As a child, I wanted to be a fashion designer or an architect. Now, I am not quite sure, as I'm clumsily tiptoeing on a tightrope that's spanned between being an industrial designer that's meaningful for the mental health industry and a public speaker/writer that travels around the world. I dream big, but my nightmares are bigger.

For now, I'm just a little girl. Quite ironically, the PowerHouse Museum (the place where the Art of the Brick takes place), also housed an exhibition about some fashion designer. At the end there were two rows of tables full of paper and colouring pencils, prompting children to make their dream outfit reality. I sat there for at least an hour, and the security must have wondered why a grown girls spends so much time on that table that's too low for her. Well, mindfulness colouring is a thing nowadays, isn't it? Maybe it can make me less insane.

Sometimes we just have to remember where we came from. Red and black has always been my favourite colour combination, but so was blue and green, which reminded me of the mermaid I wanted to be as a kid.



For those who are interested, the Art of the Brick exhibition is in Sydney until May 1st, 2016.

Book your tickets on the MAAS Museum Website.

Instagrammers, be sure to follow @NathanSawaya for more brick art.

Akaroa: a small escapade

"Not all those who wander are lost" - J.R.R. Tolkien

Wanderlust. Most of us have felt it at one point in our lives, that indescribable longing to be more than just a fixed doll in a daily routine at a specific set of coordinates on earth. We need routine to create a sense of being in control of our own lives. There is something absurdly comforting about knowing what will happen next. This tightly-knitted schedule that will tell us exactly what to do. Wake up early on Mondays till Fridays. Eat lunch at a pre-ordered time of day. Be rebellious during the weekends by sleeping in. There's too much to think about throughout our lives, and planning is not a task enjoyed by many of us.

At one point, however, we seek more. We call it a break. We want to see beyond that tree at the corner of our street. Weren't our great-great-great-to-the-power-of-x-grandparents nomads? We want to go into the woods, feel adventurous, or imagine ourselves as a tropical addition to those postcard-like environments with sun-kissed skin and scorching-hot sand between our toes. Of course, no one really tells us that the sand will make your feet cry and that the ocean isn't always at room temperature, but who cares, we're not confined by those same four walls with silly posters from our teenage life anymore. It's an accomplishment.

 



This little buddy is there to take us on an adventure.





That sign ain't big enough to stop us from wandering! ;)





Just a small bush-walking distraction while we were on the road.



Akaroa is realistic but fancy enough to serve as an escape from concrete and skyscrapers. The road from Christchurch to this little town by the sea is hilly enough to consider it an adventure. I was lucky enough to have a driver, but otherwise I could've taken a shuttle bus throughout all of these 75 kilometres, and I'm sure I would have seen plenty sheep with this service as well. It's indeed true that New Zealand is full of sheep, or at least the parts I've gone through. I've seen a sheep each day, and one time I was lucky enough to spot an alpaca along the highway.

 





Baaaaaaaah



We drove from Christchurch, through the hill, to Little River, which is literally a town that consists of a souvenir shop and a few other shops. I had my historic moment of eating Hokey Pokey icecream there, which apparently is a kiwi thing (New Zealanders like to call themselves kiwis, not like the fruit, but the bird). It's basically vanilla ice cream with toffee bits mixed throughout it, but it's a good thing to try some of the local stuff. I never really understand people who travel abroad and eat Mc Donalds. But then again, that's me, wrinkling my nose at all of these international companies taking away authenticity from each country they encounter. It is convenient, I'll have to admit, especially if you're a local, but sometimes as a tourist I get kind of sick of seeing Mc Donalds and H&M everywhere.



Woof.



Anyway. From Little River onwards we probably passed many more towns, but none at which we pulled over, as I was too busy spotting sheep and photographing mountains. Or hills (to me, everything that's a big belly of land is a mountain to me, simply because the Netherlands is so flat). I spoiled myself with more shutter-spamming than usual because I got my hands on this fancy, heavy-lensed Canon camera which I had no idea how to operate. I was just sticking my head out of the window like a dog and clicked till every scene seemed the same to me. On automatic, of course. That's the way (only to come back home and realise that most pictures turned out too dark, but that's why we have so many photo-editing tools nowadays).

 



Me being awkward when asked to pose and I've got no idea what to do.



 

But then there was water. A big pool of water, from which Akaroa would watch us. We spun around what was called Akaroa Harbour until we finally reached the foot of the hill, where we'd drive through the only trace of French settlement in New Zealand. A street wasn't simply a street, it was 'la rue [insert-something-French-here]'. The French language has cast this magical spell on many dreamers, it's almost a pity I didn't take full advantage of my 4-years of French class during secondary schoiol, as I mostly recall how to introduce myself. And oh, my favourite sentence: 'Vous n'avez pas un coeur'. You do not have a heart. Non, je ne regriette rien. Thank music to those two sentences, not French class.

  



Getting closer and closer to Akaroa...



  



And here it is, a town-y cuty.



  

 

But we're in New Zealand, not France. The houses in Akaroa are quite different from those in Christchurch, as they are mostly pastel or light-coloured, reminiscent of those in south-European countries. You'd probably see it all within a few hours since the city isn't that big. You'll encounter some souvenir shops with tea towels, New Zealand's beloved Paua Shell, or the more average stuff such as key chains that no one really uses. The main attraction of the city is probably its harbour, where nature cruises take off so that you may swim with dolphins or enjoy being sprayed by sea water as you speed through the sea.

 

Black Cat Cruises offered these things. 72 dollars for a 2-hour trip without being a mermaid. Converted back to Euros it is an okay price. I got to see all these things that makes a tourist squeal in excitement: the photogenic combination of rocks and water, dolphins and seals. Click click click. Another few hundred pictures saved on my borrowed camera. It's easy to fall in love with nature. Its grandeur, its colours, its serenity. It all just makes sense while dazzling us with amazement, whereas humans almost have to be dissected for people to realise their beauty if this is not apparent on the outside. It's sad to admit, but that's simply what nature is built on: beauty and order.

 

 

So, the boat. I might have gone a bit overboard this time as I usually don't pay money for these kind of things. Sydney always offers these cruises with promises of seeing whales but I never really bothered. Then again I didn't go on the cruise for the dolphins, I actually didn't even expect to see any. I just love the smell and sound of the sea. I still remember sitting on a rock at Bondi beach with nothing but the sound of crashing waves and the smell of seawater (subtly filtering out the sound of tourists). Nature just has this ability to calm us down, perhaps because it is such a huge contrast from the sights and sounds we face on a day-to-day basis. Of course I shouldn't glamorise things too much as there's always the far-too-strong wind and gust of salt as the boat speeds through the water. Then again, petty complaints. I am happy with my pictures. Water is simply magnificent. Recently I just realised it must be one out of a very few things that is probably indestructible, as it adjusts to the environment and takes different shapes.

 

 

 

Taking pictures of animals is a whole other story. Like I said, I didn't expect to see dolphins, so when they suddenly emerged from the water I tried with all my might to get a picture of a dolphin in mid-air, just like those pictures on postcards. I guess I am lucky enough to get a picture of a dolphin while it's not underwater. Since they're so smart and are able to communicate with each other, I sometimes wonder what they're thinking as they tease tourists. I wonder if they're aware that we're so desperate to get a glimpse of them. These dolphins were certainly playful:

 



This is what it's like trying to capture these mischievous dolphins.



 

But hey, if the dolphins aren't willing to cooperate, there are always enough other things to photograph, right? I am particularly happy of one shot I got of a pair of seagulls. The thing I love most about carrying an SLR camera is that I am able to zoom in and still get crisp images. The colours can still turn out a bit unpredictable, though. I've found many different shades of the waters in my pictures, and I am not quite sure which one reflected reality anymore. All I remember was that it was crisp and reflective, nothing like anything I'd ever see in the Netherlands.



HA! Gotcha.





Spot the seal. I swear it's there.





See the seal now? This one is less camouflaged.



 

All in all, I am glad I went to Akaroa, the blue shadeshave just marked their territory in my memory of New Zealand. The sea is everywhere, yet it takes so many different shades and has such a different temper where ever you go. I am not surprised that it has inspired so many poets and painters. All I can say is that I am in awe.