Category Archives: Prose

The Move to Animation (and its Subsequent Demise) I

While exploring diagrams, I revisited the issue of my relationship with language(s). It stems from my anxiety regarding my “Singaporean voice” and my “American voice,” which I had first explored artistically in my sophomore year. These were the sketches/notes I

The Move to Animation (and its Subsequent Demise) I

While exploring diagrams, I revisited the issue of my relationship with language(s). It stems from my anxiety regarding my “Singaporean voice” and my “American voice,” which I had first explored artistically in my sophomore year. These were the sketches/notes I

An Internal Dialogue I

Halfway through the fall semester last year, I left the flowchart behind. My professor had suggested that I write a dialogue between myself and an imagined, 5-year-older future self. I had reacted negatively at first, but the more I thought

An Internal Dialogue I

Halfway through the fall semester last year, I left the flowchart behind. My professor had suggested that I write a dialogue between myself and an imagined, 5-year-older future self. I had reacted negatively at first, but the more I thought

Confessions about Confessing: Moving into Prose

In my last post, I described how I moved from my initial doodled flowchart to something more expansive and systematic. As a writing experiment – the independent study started off with a reading/writing focus after all – I was asked

Confessions about Confessing: Moving into Prose

In my last post, I described how I moved from my initial doodled flowchart to something more expansive and systematic. As a writing experiment – the independent study started off with a reading/writing focus after all – I was asked

Confessions about Confessing: Stage 2 & 3

This is a follow-up to my last post, in which I introduced a flowchart that I had created to describe my own feelings and insecurities about writing, particularly confessional writing. After showing that chart to Greg, he mentioned that at

Confessions about Confessing: Stage 2 & 3

This is a follow-up to my last post, in which I introduced a flowchart that I had created to describe my own feelings and insecurities about writing, particularly confessional writing. After showing that chart to Greg, he mentioned that at

Mapping: An Essay for Mapping Thinking Spaces

As part of our decision to to take a professional approach to curating Mapping Thinking Spaces (which I blogged about yesterday), each curator wrote a 500-word essay for our intended catalogue/zine. Unfortunately, due to numerous printing issues and errors, we just

Mapping: An Essay for Mapping Thinking Spaces

As part of our decision to to take a professional approach to curating Mapping Thinking Spaces (which I blogged about yesterday), each curator wrote a 500-word essay for our intended catalogue/zine. Unfortunately, due to numerous printing issues and errors, we just

Composition on an Unplanned Walk Home

She took a different bus route home, not by choice or sudden whim, but to avoid the – at this point she really had no qualms about resorting to a cliche – numberless horde. Mentally, she ascribed no race or

Composition on an Unplanned Walk Home

She took a different bus route home, not by choice or sudden whim, but to avoid the – at this point she really had no qualms about resorting to a cliche – numberless horde. Mentally, she ascribed no race or

An abandonment, self-imposed

I cushion my ears, trying to use music more suited to one’s current endeavors to drown out music whose presence is beyond my control. The internal layer, in its unavoidable loudness, is rendered as distracting as its antagonist. The external

An abandonment, self-imposed

I cushion my ears, trying to use music more suited to one’s current endeavors to drown out music whose presence is beyond my control. The internal layer, in its unavoidable loudness, is rendered as distracting as its antagonist. The external

The Look

It was the way she looked into his eyes. She seemed, almost, to be stunned by a fulfilled expectation, to be comfortably full of trepidation, to be just as relieved by his presence as she must have, long ago, been

The Look

It was the way she looked into his eyes. She seemed, almost, to be stunned by a fulfilled expectation, to be comfortably full of trepidation, to be just as relieved by his presence as she must have, long ago, been

Artist Statement

I have been lost for much of the past few months, and it is only in the recent few weeks that I’ve started to coordinate my thoughts and start thinking more deeply about the direction I want to go in

Artist Statement

I have been lost for much of the past few months, and it is only in the recent few weeks that I’ve started to coordinate my thoughts and start thinking more deeply about the direction I want to go in

On Homecoming

I wrote this piece for a project that ended up falling through. But I’m proud of it nonetheless, and it is perhaps poignant that I am posting it just a week away from leaving for New York yet again.  

On Homecoming

I wrote this piece for a project that ended up falling through. But I’m proud of it nonetheless, and it is perhaps poignant that I am posting it just a week away from leaving for New York yet again.