jen

its deja vu like sitting here by the computer in my room on the second floor, peering out through rain speckled window. finally home at last, the chilly swedish air never fails to remind me of yet another summer thats come to an end. its hard to believe i'll be in london this time next week, with my 20kgs of luggage in the middle of busy saturday traffic, back to the real world, back to real life, back to unsupervised independence, back to studying and working...me, back in action. cant decide whether i'm looking forward to it or not.

 

a tiny figure in the middle of nanjing road, i stood there in central shanghai, observing my shadow beneath the sizzling noon sun. totally regretting wearing black, i closed my eyes and tried to imagine myself else where.  this is my last day in china. i wondered i could do this, simply close my eyes in midst a noisy environment and teletransport myself (my mind in the least) somewhere else. pictureing a movie flashback, i tried to remember what i've been up to in these last two months, from beijing to anhui: dusty classrooms, muddy shoes and straw hats. evening strolls along west lake, silkscreen printing in factories, lofty art studios and unairconditioned long bus journeys. with my short term memory i've probably already forgotten lots of bits and bobs. i wish at the end of our lives, whether there is a long hall of light to walk through or not, that by the end of it we'd be handed a dvd and in it, a record of how we've live our lives from the tiniest incidents to life changing decisions. assuming there are dvd players in heaven that is.

dont know why, i feel a bit queasy. flatmate's moved out today and for the first time in awhile, i'm alone in the flat. theres an emptiness i dont like. honestly though, my room's never been this clean before. but it feels like something is missing. i've filled two massive bags with clothes, shoes and bags for charity. boxes are cleaned out, i now have the whole place to myself. funny, i must have grown really attached to my messy space. even, the dingy futon. its transformed back to its old self. although the cushions are a bit creased, looks a bit sunken in. i oddly prefer it to the springy double bed. dont really want to sleep in an empty room. i'll wake up in the morning and find myself oddly elevated off the floor. i'll find everything dissapointedly clean. ugh the cleanliness. its all so unnatural. the place is so depressingly sad. i dont want to handle change at this point. its all going too fast. stop stop, wait for me to catch up.

i've had the oddest long weekend. think my body's going on a bit of a strike after enduring another painful dose of H&M. ok, i know i should really complain less about this. money is money, i'm getting paid well and working hard for it actually does give me more satisfaction in a cliche kind of way.  and, shit...just lost my trail of thought. this just goes to prove how spaced out i've been lately. i swear that sunday must have killed half my brain cells. if thats even possible from over exertion on very little sleep. i honestly dont know how i got through that day, i was weak in the knees (definately not in a good way), sore all over and so light headed i felt like i was going to pass out on the shop floor. stubbed my toe against the rails like 10 times and...brace yourself....actually managed to wack my face into a t-bar close to the elevator cus i whipped around too quickly. must have looked like a nervous wreak, because for some reason one of my collegues who happened to witness the unfortunate event kept on apologizing for it. how odd, must have thought he pushed me into it or something. although nope, it was all my own intelligence at work. (why am i so sarcastic? )

so crawling back home on all fours sunday evening with the bloody, fickle rain seeping into my leather flip flops definately did not help conditions on monday morning. dragged myself out of bed with a dull headache, got into my morning routine and mistakenly put those flip flops back on. damn it do i ever learn? by the time i was down the stairs and realising its less than 10 degrees and windy as hell, i was too lazy to go all the way back up to change. should have kicked myself right there. however, my lovely summer attire wasnt the only thing amiss that morning. dozing off on the bus to my placement job, i lazily acknowledged how oddly enough, all the stores were closed, the streets practically empty and easy traffic. believe me, this is not a regular monday morning. cant believe how slow i was to catch on that it was a bank holiday. there should be signs up or something, so no tired little chinese girls wind up spending an hour traveling up north at the crack of dawn (it practically is if u're used to waking up at noon) only to realise it was all for nothing. so basically, i went all the way to dalston juction for a 50p pizza and a round turkish donut-like pastry that melted funny in the mircowave. oh dear, the sacrifices i make for food. it wasnt even good food. i should have at least thrown in a 50p minty, herb bun with feta filling just for the heck of it.

its a massive glass box. beautiful from the outside looking in. an artificial brightness seeps out of it. i hesitated, watching the faint silhouettes move in and out of focus in the mist. fingers trailing along the walls of the confined space. curious. there was a warning sign at the entrance of the exhibition, but i didnt keep that in mind. a single entrance leading into the light. i stepped into the fog.

suddenly, the world as i knew it, the solid ground beneath my feet, the buzzing people around me, the gallery space all dissappeared without warning and i was unexpectedly thrown into a surreal state of existence. the dense fog enveloped me, i felt consumed, engulfed into something strange. my senses were dissoriented, i could barely breath because of all the vapour in the air, all i could hear was my own feet slapping onto the wet floor and all of could see was this light. dont think i've ever truly felt so displaced before. a rush of panick quickly grabbed hold of me, i suddenly was aware of how scared i was. i didnt want to be alone, wanted to grab the hand of a stranger. even though i knew the exit must be just inches away, i couldn't find it. stretching out my arms, i desperately looked for anything solid. white, damp fog filled everything, as if it casted a web that stretched out for miles and miles. was there ever a real material world? i gasped as the tips of my fingers touched glass. i walked out and nothing had changed. a gallery personel is standing outside on guard. its just a big glass box filled with mist and a blinding light. no, not a portal into another realm.

we havent had any hot water for almost a week now. i've been running about like a stinky homeless person, using people's bathrooms for a quick shower. honesty, never saw this coming. there are about 5 holes in the concrete ground by our building, with these massive blue water pipes sticking out of them. they've been there out in the open for a good 3 days now, it being a long weekend and all. gah...i really am close at the verge of tears with fustration this time. i chucked2 weeks worth of laundry into the washing machine just now and turned it on eagerly only to realized theres no water at all. nothing, nada. except for this nasty gurgling sound the pipes make. as if crying out in protest that i've turned it on when its got nothing to spit out of its rusty opening. what am i going to do? will i die from dehydration? there really is only a sip of hot water left in the kettle. will the neighbours find me all shrivelled up in my dingy futon, eyes with the life drained out of them, staring into space, mouth wide open as if crying out for that last drop of chlorined tap water to save my last breath. oh dear.

 

seriously tho, i think i really am in a bit of a crisis. although, have to keep positive. a big chunk of the world's population have no access to clean water, let alone running hot water and electricity, right? so i should take this a lessson on saving water and energy. what's a few days without soap between the toes when there are children dying from lack of access to clean water. yaaaaaaaaaa

the past few days have rushed by like a passing train, and i'm back to being a busy bee, buzzing my way around town. find myself in annoying situations where i really need to sort out my priorities and choose the most benificial way to spend my time. before i learn how to split myself in two, i'm going to have to settle with sacrificing certain things in order to have everything fall into place. having choices and making the right choices, i suppose thats just what its all about. very simple really. until you make the life-changing wrong one, that is. tho not saying that i have...at least i hope not.

 

i spent most part of the day in the national gallery today. it was our illustration teacher's idea for us all to wander around the art gallery and sketch the paintings. a break from our stuffy studio at college, i was quite excited about a change of environment and the idea of being in that kind of space, surrounded by age old masterpieces. i love illustration, although i've felt a bit stuck within my own style of drawing and have been unsatisfied with my work. this was really just what i needed, cuz as it turns out, not only was i lacking in drawing more freely, but on so many other levels as well. physically being in the national gallery today, sketching the figures within those oil paintings in quick sessions, it just made me feel a bit more like an artist again. the strange sensation of your hand working across the piece of paper, no visible links from source to eyes, through brain to fingers and onto the surface of the paper, its all happening subconsciously. i really miss this, not having to think about design. so tiring, being surrounded by consumerism. i really think that stupid training programe at H&M is taking an effect on me. i need to just focus on more observation and free drawings, and channel that kind of energy through to fashion design and illustration.

 

then there was the LCF BA graduation show this afternoon, i managed to talk my way out of another H&M training, all part of the masterful scheme of transforming us newbies into brilliant sales assistants. the show was very long. and have to be honest, not that eye catching. it was all good, and i really liked the menswear but nothing got me sitting at the edge of my seat gasping. but then maybe its just me. i had it all promptly recorded on camera, and reconized one of the models i met on london fashion week.

 

it's been a busy day, i went to the barbican center after a quick sandwich dinner at pret. feels like thats all i've been eating lately. anyways, the plan was to watch the oscar winning chinese documentary on orphaned children with AIDS in rural china. its called 'the blood in yingzhou district'. but as things strangely turned out, the main focus of the evening wasnt that short film at all...but the composer Gabriel Yared who did the music for it along with other famous movies like cold moutain, the talented mr. ripley and the english patient. so major change of subject, thougts of innocent suffering children in bad conditions swerve to the power and effects of composing music. i was thinking of the anhui volunteering scheme for this summer, then suddenly realized that i've never really understood music. strange. should we really try to make sense of every thought that swims by? i'm to easily influenced by movies. but visuals can be very powerful, partly why i'm so attracted to photography i suppose. everything is connected.

i cant remember the last time i had to walk this much. must have been italy trip, or? oh, huangshan mountain climbing. how is it that traveling really becomes more of an excercise than just a relaxing holiday? these tight schedules, us trying to cram in as much sightseeing as we physically can...at the expense of having very very sore feet. barcelona really brought back memories of other trips. at the thought of sore feet, i think back to beijing summer 2005. when i climbed the great wall (the older broken down bits) with emelie's flipflops, got sunburned from head to toe, and had a 2hr long foot massage near our hostel. that was so nice. right, back to sunny spain.

 

we really out did ourselves the first evening with that ambitious moonlight promenade, i found it really hard to wake up the next day. but miho opened the balcony window and the bright morning sun came streaming in. through sore, cloudy eyes i saw the silhouette of our pretty metal railing, took a deep breath and decided to embrace the new day. museu picasso was the first stop. fisheye camera ready and all set to go in my hand, we passed through most of the gothic area around Via Laietana before spotting the long queue for the museum. full of picasso's early works, the collection really gave me a different picture of him, more like how he masterfully developed his work into cubism and the such. but these cubic imitations of velaquez's work was so amazing, the cutest. slight set back: the throng of tourists were doing my head in. way too much people lah. so we decided to go a bit out of the way, to see parc montjuic and poble espanyol.

 

half way up the massive hill, in front of the castle like national museum, quenched by thirst, we sat down on the flight of stairs and looked out at the vast scenery that stretched before us. this was busy barcelona, with its new york like square streets, surrounded by hills and mountains, facing the horizon of the mediterranean. a street musician played guitar in the background, i closed my eyes and imagined myself a sponge, sucking all this in. this very moment.... so that when i'm in the middle of term, up to my eyebrows in college work, i can take a break, close me eyes and remember that instant. i think its something in the music, this is why people say barcelona's so colourful. while walking along that aged stone path, these walls with so much history, it all just doesnt seem complete without the faint echo of a classic tune. i loved the music, made me want to go back to playing the violin and the accordian. but i guess i cant have everything.

barcelona. barceLONA. barCELONA. BARCELONA! with the 3 day trip behind me, it felt like a dream. intense sightseeing, gorgeous atmosphere, inspiration, the walking, the listening, the culture, the language, gaudi, picasso, miro...its already faded in my memory and i can remembering it all happening like an old motion picture.

 

 

day 1. (sat, 14th april)

 

10am - showered and packed, waiting for miho to arrive and ready to go.

12 noon - arrive early for the flight, miho's bag was too suspicous for customs security so we had to wait ages for them to go through every single item in the bag.

13.50 - find out plan's and hour late... after standing in line for an hour by the gate. 

17.50 - barcelona time^^, finally arrive in girona, we lost an hour of time travelling over europe.

20.00 - waiting in front of our apartment building, home for the next 3 nights. noticed cute candy shop right next door, neighbouring a chinese internet cafe call 'yu zhou'. girl arrives on a vespa and hands over the keys and we climb into a small old fashioned lift to get to our shared apt.

20.30 - so excited about seeing the city, we leave our stuff in the room and venture outside in search of spanish food.

21.45 - after promenading down la ramblas and exploring into the depths of the gothic area, we find a uteservering by the catedral. i ordered v. expensive seafood paella and we filled out stomaches to our content.

22.35 - discovered the cutest little street full of cosy bars and colorful graffitti, walked down to the harbour

23.50 - so exhausted from walking, decided to head back up Via Laietana and back to the apartment

 

 

 

in the middle of procrastinating my college work, i flipped through my photo sketchbook from last summer. i decided to scan some of my photographs into the computer. i miss the feeling of that trigger in my hand. the sound of the shutter, the dusty square screen and the magnifying glass. i simply gave into instincts when it came to shutter speed and aperture, cuz i couldnt afford a proper light meter. everything was about making the right guess. it was so much fun. i had a friend of mine help me develop the black and white ones. it was the mid july in hangzhou, right in the middle of a heat wave. he transformed his small, un-airconditioned rented room (rented from local farmers) into a dark room by taping newspapers on the windows. he's a bit mad when it comes to photography. for his final project in uni (at the china art academy) he built a massive wooden pinhole camera the size of a cabin, and locked himself in it for hours taking photographs. the result was incredible.

 

how did i get into 120mm photography? it all started with an exhibition at the photographer's gallery. they were exhibiting rinko kawauchi's work and there was this amazing slide show of images of her grandparents. i was so affected. always loved photography but nothing before had ever made me feel so much. its hard to describe, rinko kawauchi simply manages to capture the most beautiful moments and succeeds in channeling her emotions into her work so everytime u see it u cant help but gasp. the colors, the lighting, the composition, and mostly importantly the story behind them. her story. it made me feel like falling backwards into a dense, nostalgic fog of the past. this is what inspired me to seek out a old yashica-mat camera on portabello. it  felt as if i was meant to have that camera all along. i'm in love with it, despite not having the faintest clue about how real camera's work. its time consuming and fagile, but made me see the world through a different lens. theres more depth in that camera than all the newest sony digitals combined. looking back, i feel like i didnt take half as many pictures as i would have liked.