Monday, November 13, 2006

"I use non-art materials such as books and clothes to create work which evokes a sense of dreamy melancholy or magical enchantment. I'm interested in the realm of fairy-tales and folk-legends and have been working on a series of book-works exploring these themes, externalising the pages of the book and allowing it to be read in another way.
I find the materialization of the flat piece of paper an almost magical process. As I become more involved in the making, I feel like I am creating small stage sets, inhabited by characters caught up in their own magical, whimsical and sometimes haunting journeys."
~Su Blackwell~

Friday, November 10, 2006

Alexei Sultanov

He was most famous for winning the Eighth Van Cliburn International Piano Competition in 1989, at the age of 19. One of four Cliburn competitors from the Soviet Union in 1989, he was the youngest in the field of 38 pianists – and at 5 feet 2 inches, he also was the smallest. But once he performed his volcanic selections of Liszt, Prokofiev and Chopin, he quickly became known for his huge sound. His fingers flashed over the keys; the music thundered and whispered and groaned. When he played, he shut his eyes as if enraptured by the music. During his performance, a piano string snapped, but Alexei continued to play on. And, when the music ended, he bowed low to the audience, then took a backward step and pointed to the piano as if to share the spotlight with a fellow performer. Audiences raved about his originality and the jury's decision was unanimous, but critics were split in their response.
At the age of 6, Alexei Sultanovbegan piano lessons in Tashkent with Tamara Popovich. Alexei was a student of Lev Naumov at the Central Music school and again at the Tchaikovsky Conservatory, where he completed his musical studies. Even after a severe stroke paralyzed his left side, Sultanov continued to play the piano with his right hand with his wife, cellist Dace Abele, accompanying him with the left hand. He died June 30, 2005 at the age of 35 in Fort Worth.

Read more on Alexei Sultanov @ Chicago Tribune

I was moved to tears after watching the videos on Chicago Tribune. Never before had I heard a live performance with such spontaneity, confidence, wisdom, intelligence and innovation-natural, without a trace of ostentation and deception. Alexei Sultanov obviously abused his body and talent early on, but it is amazing that he was able to overcome an ultimate challenge and play again from his heart. It truly demonstrates that sometimes it is the challenges that strengthen us.

Saturday, November 04, 2006



"I am a specialist 3rd class in the USMC, and I just got back from Iraq and a week before I left, my sergeant ordered me to shoot 12 Iraqi children in the face. I don't know how I did it. He hid the bodies. Nobody knows we did it..."
"I like to inflict big time pain onto other people. I like getting paid to smash people faces in. Hearing bones snap make me hard. The warm salty taste of another persons blood stimulates me in a religious fashion. I have a deep hate for people who are happy and I think that is what lead me into being a contractor. "
"well, i am a 15 year old boy,and i have had sex with my 22 year old brother over 50 times in the past years, i feel so terrible to confess these things, he has a huge weiner and he makes me perform fellacio. i am going to burn in hell for this..he just likes to ram my butt, but I like it so much, i dont know why "
"I'm 29 years old, and obsessed with cannibalism. Back at university, a group of students were holding a gathering, and one guy had chopped his finger off - we all tried a bit, and I immediately realised this is something I want to do in life. Since then, I have tried a bit of arm, and part of a toe. "
"I want him to die. Bad. For all the hurt he did to me. For all the lies he said to me. For saying I Love You when he didn't even mean it. For cheating on me with his ex several times and lying to me about it. I hate you. I hope you choke and die. Nobody deserves what you've done in the months we dated. Nobody."
"My goal used to be to take over the world. Now I think I'm just gonna smoke this pot and watch some South Park..."



~anonymous online confessions from grouphug.us~
here's mine: I like to misplace books on purpose in libraries and bookstores.
Whenever I visit the libraries/stores again, I get pleasure from seeing them left exactly where I've misplaced them.

Thursday, October 26, 2006


When I'm on stage, I have to do many contradictory things at once. I have to let myself go and control myself at the same time. I have to imagine what I am going to do and at the same time listen what I have done and react to it. It needs a split personality on many levels.

Saturday, October 21, 2006



I
Hear the sledges with the bells
Silver bells!
What a world of merriment their melody foretells!
How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle,
In the icy air of night!
While the stars that oversprinkle
All the heavens, seem to twinkle
With a crystalline delight;
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the tintinnabulation that so musically wells
From the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells
From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells.

II
Hear the mellow wedding bells,
Golden bells!
What a world of happiness their harmony foretells!
Through the balmy air of night
How they ring out their delight!
From the molten-golden notes,
And an in tune,
What a liquid ditty floats
To the turtle-dove that listens, while she gloats
On the moon!
Oh, from out the sounding cells,
What a gush of euphony voluminously wells!
How it swells!
How it dwells
On the Future! how it tells
Of the rapture that impels
To the swinging and the ringing
Of the bells, bells, bells,
Of the bells, bells, bells,bells,
Bells, bells, bells
To the rhyming and the chiming of the bells!

III
Hear the loud alarum bells
Brazen bells!
What a tale of terror, now, their turbulency tells!
In the startled ear of night
How they scream out their affright!
Too much horrified to speak,
They can only shriek, shriek,
Out of tune, In a clamorous appealing to the mercy of the fire,
In a mad expostulation with the deaf and frantic fire,
Leaping higher, higher, higher,
With a desperate desire,
And a resolute endeavor,
Now - now to sit or never,
By the side of the pale-faced moon.
Oh, the bells, bells, bells!
What a tale their terror tells of Despair!
How they clang, and clash, and roar!
What a horror they outpour
On the bosom of the palpitating air!
Yet the ear it fully knows,
By the twanging,
And the clanging,
How the danger ebbs and flows:
Yet the ear distinctly tells,
In the jangling,
And the wrangling,
How the danger sinks and swells,
By the sinking or the swelling in the anger of the bells
Of the bells
Of the bells, bells, bells,bells,
Bells, bells, bells
In the clamor and the clangor of the bells!
IV
Hear the tolling of the bells
Iron Bells!
What a world of solemn thought their monody compels!
In the silence of the night,
How we shiver with affright
At the melancholy menace of their tone!
For every sound that floats
From the rust within their throats is a groan.
And the people - ah, the people
They that dwell up in the steeple,
All Alone
And who, tolling, tolling, tolling,
In that muffled monotone,
Feel a glory in so rolling
On the human heart a stone
They are neither man nor woman
They are neither brute nor human
They are Ghouls:
And their king it is who tolls;
And he rolls, rolls, rolls, rolls
A paean from the bells!
And his merry bosom swells
With the paean of the bells!
And he dances, and he yells;
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the paean of the bells
Of the bells:
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the throbbing of the bells
Of the bells, bells, bells
To the sobbing of the bells;
Keeping time, time, time,
As he knells, knells, knells,
In a happy Runic rhyme,
To the rolling of the bells
Of the bells, bells, bells:
To the tolling of the bells,
Of the bells, bells, bells, bells
Bells, bells, bells
To the moaning and the groaning of the bells.
~The Bells by Edgar Allan Poe~

Thursday, October 19, 2006

Ronin is a hard rock band based in Singapore consisting of five members. They are renowned for their entertaining live performances and being one of the few high profile rock bands in the Singapore music scene.
Their debut album Do or Die (Universal Music) has received rave reviews by local press.
Here's Levan (vocals/guitar) and Sean (guitar) singing One More Moment at Cancer Warriors Project Launch.

Sunday, October 15, 2006

Wednesday, October 11, 2006

Singapore, heard that?

Sunday, October 08, 2006



Why, at about this time of year is there one solitary fly that refuses to die or be downed? No amount of swiping and splatting seems to phase it. Each time you fight the battle, you try hitting it with all your available weaponry: journals, jacket, towel, magazines, bare hands, books (particlularly: Story of O by Pauline Reage) This huge, juicy, black fly comes to buzz around your head; the fly with the secret of eternal life, perhaps. Sometimes, it'll bring along a good friend or two, in hope to feast on some delicious fruits rotting in my room. Maybe I should name It as Itty, please don't ask why (maybe it's a children's thing) but Itty is alive and well and buzzing around here like a very annoying old friend.
Wishing I were in Paris for Fafi's Colette show.







Tuesday, October 03, 2006



Its really funny how insecure people turns out to be the most arrogant.

Monday, October 02, 2006


Here's some girlie goodnesss:





Someday, when I have my own apartment, I really need to fill one room with all the design pieces and things I've been longing for. The girly, vintage, flowery stuff within my own living space.

Friday, September 29, 2006






A Book

There is no frigate like a book

To take us lands away,

Nor any coursers like a page

Of prancing poetry.

This traverse may the poorest take

Without oppress of toll;

How frugal is the chariot

That bears a human soul!

~ Emily Dickinson~

*ahem, may I add that books do furnish a room too!*

You try to be strong, to be patient, to take the zen view that worrying it will do no good anyway.

You try to take the advice of your lecturers, your college mates, your friends, fellow pianists, your housemates, your psychopharmocologist, that the best thing you can do now is to block it out and just work: Work on your next recital and dissertation. Work on your garden. Take up a new hobby. {Blogging, anyone?} Take up smoking.

~A Google-Junky who's lost her way.~

Tuesday, September 05, 2006


"As we grow up, we learn that even the one person
that wasn't supposed to ever let you down probably will.
You will have your heart broken probably more than once
and it's harder every time.
You'll break hearts too,
so remember how it felt when yours was broken.
You'll fight with your best friend.
You'll blame a new love for things an old one did.
You'll cry because time is passing too fast,
and you'll eventually lose someone you love.
So take too many pictures,
laugh too much,
and love like you've never been hurt
because every sixty seconds you spend upset
is a minute of happiness you'll never get back."

Wednesday, August 23, 2006

I won't ever stray because this is Heaven to me.

Sunday, June 25, 2006



Summer break, finally. Home of food's greatest, here I come!

Thursday, June 22, 2006




Haji Lane, Singapore

"If you're sick of battling the damn Orchard Road crowds, head over to the Arab Street area.For those in the know, this neighborhood is a treasure trove of eclectic finds from design studios and fashion boutiques to eateries and shisha joints. With the crazy artwork/graffiti that adorns the walls and the mish-mash of shops, everything about Haji Lane and its surrounding streets screams quirkiness and uber cool underground style."

Wednesday, June 21, 2006

Monday, June 19, 2006

Friday, June 16, 2006

Tuesday, June 13, 2006



"Art is lie which makes us realize the truth."
~Pablo Picasso~
Art is an ever-controversial term. The beauty of the word itself is that though it cannot be defined in a universal sense, it's meaning is no less important. Not only is the definition of art ever evolving, it will always have it’s own definition to the artist, the critic and most importantly the viewer. Picasso states that art deceives the viewer into believing that a particular image is reality; however, what I find is that artists are creating as a perceived reality.
Modern art, beginning with the Impressionist movement and those pioneers who began to interpret their own realities ever to subtly as the way light might move across the canvas. To the Expressionist and Post-Modern art of later years go even further to deceive the viewer. Yet what is really being portrayed is not necessarily reality. The interpretation and personal perception of that reality is what finds its way upon the medium. As such, this acuity plays a significant role in what we as individual viewers are attracted to - the most intriguing and fascinating pieces are those that force the viewer to alter their perception of their own reality and ask questions: What does this piece mean to me? How does it affect me and my own life?
One of the pieces that I personally find moving is Chagall’s Three Candles. It has created a separate plane in my own mind where floating lovers, joined in a lifetime union. It speaks of hopes and endless dreams.
What is your favorite piece of art? What does it whisper to you and what reality (surreal or otherwise) does it impress upon you?

Monday, June 12, 2006






Gonna pack up all my cares and woe,
Here I go singin' low,
Bye bye blackbird.
Where somebody waits for me,
Sugar is sweet, so is he,
Bye bye blackbird.
No one here can love and understand me,
Oh what hard luck stories, they all hand me.
So make my bed and light the light,
I'll arrive late tonight,
Blackbird, bye bye.
I'm gonna pack up all my cares and woe,
Here I go singin' low,
Bye bye blackbird.
Where somebody waits for me,
Sugar's sweet, so is he,
Bye bye blackbird.
No one here can love and understand me,
Oh what hard luck stories, they all hand me.
So make my bed, light the light,
I'll arrive late tonight,
Blackbird, bye bye.

Saturday, June 10, 2006




Great, I muse. Just great.


Now is a pitstop for me to refuel and reflect - before rejoining the mad rush of the race. Of course the constant skirmishes take a toll. There is the sheer exhaustion of it all. When sometimes I dearly wish I had time enough and breath, to sit and be still, to un-think and un-feel, to Zen. I haven't melted off into the sunset with Prince Charming. It is my time to capture the moment, to feel inspired, to think foolish thoughts and dream imprudent dreams. I am storing up nuggets in my life-bank, stashing away as much as I can for the rainy days I see ahead. And if I suffer, for now I prefer to do so in silence. So a moratorium on the personal affairs of Molly for now.

Tuesday, June 06, 2006



I cdnuolt blveiee taht I cluod aulaclty uesdnatnrd waht I was rdanieg.
The pheonmneal pweor of the hmuan mnid.
Aoccdrnig to a rscheearch at Cmabrigde Uinervtisy
It deosn't mttaer in waht oredr the ltteers in a wrod are.
The olny iprmoatnt tihng is taht the frist and lsat ltteer be in the rghit pclae.
The rset can be a taotl mses and you can sitll raed it wouthit a porbelm.
Tihs is bcuseae the huamn mnid deos not raed ervey lteter by istlefBut the wrod as a wlohe. Amzanig huh?
Yaeh and I awlyas tghuhot slpeling was ipmorantt.

Saturday, May 27, 2006