A NeverEnding Story...

Keep the fire burning

Flan was bubbling with excitement, like a child. She hurried towards the City Hall building, eager to meet the rest of the volunteers. She waved at the familiar faces that greeted her and smiled politely to the rest.
Shortly after, the small entourage headed to the rear where they could take a lift up to the exhibits. Flan held her breath.
"Meeting the artists can be a double-edged sword...You want to meet them but it takes up all your time. So, we don't want too many - let's see...this way, everyone." Lucho explained to the agents.
Everything was still very much work-in-progress. And everyone was busy painting and fixing something. Flan felt something flutter (literally) in her stomach and she knew it wasn't the sandwich she had gobbled hastily down this morning. It was fire spelt with a 'p'.

Five minutes later, she met Jonathan Allen from Britain. Her second encounter with a real international artist (whatever that means). She hasn't known what to expect. He spoke fluently, a little shyly, in response to all 15 pairs of eyes boring at him. First impression: he looked VERY different from his persona - the "Tommy Angel"; the character portrayed in the life-size photographs appears tall and menancing and larger-than-life. Very mystical and alluring.

Flan realised that she is meeting the artist, forming the impression of the artist before she was able to study them. As a result, she didn't have questions to asked him. Unlike say if she were to meet Matthew Barney, she would probably be firing questions at him. Or not. For years, since she watched the Cremaster series, she was burning to ask - What the hell were you thinking about when you made those videos?!

They had to move on.

Despite the fact that she hadn't known what to expect from artists whom she had never met or studied before, she was mildly surprised to meet the next artist, as if she had expected someone else. It was as if someone so ordinary, so sweet, so 'like-herself' (they have the same shoes!) could not possibly be an artist. Flan met Donna Ong, a Singaporean artist. She listened intently at her explanations of her work and felt slightly awed - not at her work, but because she had made it. Like everyone else, Flan was impressed by the intricate and meticulous result of Donna's installation. She had roped in her mom and her sisters to help. They understood her work; they saw her vision.

As they left the chamber to leave her to continue her masterpiece, Flan felt the flutter in her stomach glow ever so strongly. She cast a solemn look of envy at Donna's rendition and made a mental note to make this piece part of her tour. That was the least she could do - acknowledging the camaraderie.

posted by Flaneur @ 6:34 AM