The Luxury of Letting Go

The ability to ‘Let Go’ characterizes mindfulness.

Neither rejecting nor holding on to any thoughts that may arise.

Observing and mindfully recognizing that things are as they are

 in that moment, without reaction.

I moved to Bali temporarily. To dip my feet in it’s cool waters and taste the kind of life I dreamt of. I wanted to slow down, escape my full time job and take time out. I didn't know what I was going to do, but it didn't matter because the rent was cheap, the food delicious, people friendly and sunshine uplifting.

Then I landed in Ubud and wondered how I came to be in such an overwhelmingly busy town. Ubud was not how I’d pictured it and I feared I’d mistakenly moved from a concrete jungle to a jungle with concrete. I found myself twiddling my thumbs, wanting to work and shroud myself in the buzz. I came to Hubud to be physically close to the energy of this creative and entrepreneurial spirit. My first visit wigged me out. I had been in Bali less than a week. And I began to experience an existentialist melt down. Within 24 hours I was trying to develop a business plan, downloading ‘the $100 startup’ on my Kindle and smashing out emails. There was too much frenergy and I felt my ritualized habits were attempting to recreate the exact same office environment I had left behind. 

So I turned my mobile off. I turned my laptop WIFI off. And I packed away my kindle. Why was I here? What did I want to achieve by leaving my full time job in Singapore?

I reassessed my values. And reminded myself that I didn't move here to become an entrepreneurial wizard. I didn’t choose Bali over returning to Australia for better job prospects. I moved to Bali as a gesture of respect to myself, to reassure myself that I deserved more from my life than feeling unfulfilled, bored and restless. I came with the inherent belief and self trust that once I let go I could start living a life I was proud of. I may not become a commercial success. But that's okay. I am creative, I am intellectual, I am caring and I am spiritual. My strengths cannot be judged beside others. I just am who I am. And for now, I am here.

Letting go sometimes feels like giving up parts of you. When you move to a new country you have nothing tangible to identify with. No friends, no family, no job, no social groups, no industry links. The real reason I moved to Bali was to get some headspace and finish my MA in Cross-Disciplinary Art and Design. It's mid-semester break and my online coursework doesn't resume until late July. So you know what. I'm letting go. And reveling in the luxury that I have time to allow my ego and sense of self worth take some time out by symbolically leaving my shoes at the door.

Cardboard as Currency

 

 

Cardboard as Currency is a photo essay that looks at the social invisibility of cardboard collectors within an old Chinese neighbourhood in Singapore, exhibiting that compassion fatigue is endemic in the developed world. Social issues in Singapore are abound, but also well hidden - at first glance, the country is wealthy, tidy and well organised. This photo essay communicates the relationship between people and place, and shows a generational shift in social responsibility and shows differing attitudes towards the social issues of homelessness, an aging population, family responsibility and social welfare. 

Selected photographs are exhibited at the Institute of Contemporary Arts, Singapore from February 15 - 26 as part of the Cities and Their Thesis exhibition.

Urban Camping

“The city is seen imaginatively as the heart of contemporary darkness [...] a jungle of brick, stone and smoke, 
with its greedy predators and apathetic victims, its brutal indifference to either communal value or individual feeling."  
  Nochlin, L. (1971) Realism. Penguin Books : London

In a failed attempt to get away from the city over Chinese New Year, Molly and Chad pitched a tent in the alleyways and carparks of Tiong Bahru Estate. Naming their adventure Urban Camping, and armed with a camera and two iPhones, Molly and Chad shot a series of dissociated holiday snaps, capturing the isolation they experienced, alone in an abandoned suburb.

Why do we live in cities so full of life and possibility, yet feel so alone? Artist Edward Hopper explored these themes through his realist paintings. We are faced with the antithesis of city dwelling – a feeling of disconnection, isolation and aloneness that accumulates as brooding sentiments of anti-urbanism.