001: love

001: love, originally uploaded by light paintbrush.

quotidie
001: 1.01

this first day of the year went by rather sluggishly and void of inspiration. today is also my father's birthday. so when we reached the end of sutton high street, passing by almost all shops closed, thus leaving us with no hot scrumptious food that my mother had ideally planned... my mother was in despair. it enveloped her and it was difficult to withstand and definitely not a way to start the new year. long story short this day didn't go as planned at all. but it did end peacefully, watching The Family Stone on television and hot cocoa.

the year-end holiday season is the least accommodating for introspection, despite it being the most appropriate. family affairs of food and gatherings and travelling time leave little space for thought at the end of the day, what with us feeling full and exhausted and with too much noise in the immediate environment. the only time i was able to stop and reflect was before sleeping past 1am on the first day of the year, texting my best friend. or, scratch that, that term doesn't quite cut it (and it has bad memories tied to it anyway), what should i call you maisee?

i did not think much about the people that have come and gone,. i did not think much about the friendships i have lost, found, and restored. i did not think much of my own growth this year - although i think i've done a fair bit throughout, actually.

but i did think of This. This that fills the photograph. and i realize that everything else falls under It. falls into place because of It.

and i don't think there's any better way to start the year than to keep sight of the Light that is going to get us through it.

-

i took several shots of this, and managed to cut it down to just two. they were almost identical, except for the slight change in angle. this was chosen because He looks like He's looking up, or rising... instead of looking down.

p7 : watercolor dreamscape

p7 : watercolor dreamscape, originally uploaded by light paintbrush.

quotidie
pilot week
day 7: december 31

today i discovered that i could paint a picture. i never thought i could, because i always found myself comparing it to better recreations of reality and deeming my own quite inadequate.

but being in an A Level art course has helped me see beyond the comparison and appreciate the slight distortion in what comes out of my work.

this is part of the painting i did in response to Filipino artist Amor Lamarroza's Amburaya series. (click: the only photo of it i could find on the internet)

i had done one using the element of color, but the teacher said it wasn't enough and asked me to do a second response, doing a landscape this time, like in the series. i wasn't so keen on doing it because i'd thought the first response was the best i could do. turns out, it was far from it.

the patterns and texture were formed by dabbing almost-dry paintbrushes in watercolor, and then over stencils.

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i survived the pilot week! i believe we all have a great year ahead of us. :)

p6 : liquid versatility

p6 : liquid versatility, originally uploaded by light paintbrush.

quotidie
pilot week
day 6

started sketchbook work again today, which i can hopefully finish by the end of this holiday. (as i write this i am getting anxious again with only five days to tackle a lot of sketchbook work that i slacked off doing last week...)

i never used to like watercolors because i could never control them. it was only this year that i discovered i could. and it is lovely and amazing, i can put layers and layers of color, i can get texture, it is subdued and calm and light.

thus, a tribute to watercolors.

p5 : an ordinary miracle

p5 : an ordinary miracle, originally uploaded by light paintbrush.

quotidie
pilot week
day 5 (december 29)

this couple sits opposite me on the tube home. she is tired. the train is still quite crowded, with a lot of chatter in the air. she begins to doze off, facing straight ahead, elbow on bag, chin resting on hands. i stare for a bit and think, what a cute photo it would make. i am holding my camera but in fear that her eyes would suddenly flicker open and see a camera facing her direction, i do not use it.

she changes her position and leans towards the arm rest where her arm is now propped.

and then the train is a little more quiet, there are less people, and she changes her position again and snuggles up against her partner as much as being seated in a public mode of transport would allow her.

her right arm is around the back of his neck, but folds back so that her hand can hold the back of his ear, playing with it lazily. her other arm is in front of her, winds around the arm that holds a magazine, and meets with her partner's right hand. the hand automatically attaches itself to hers. from time to time, it reaches out to turn the page, and then as if realizing it was slacking off duty, it zooms back to its position over the female hand. the thumb rubs gently and thoughtfully at her skin.

the woman does not look exceptionally made up. she is comfortable in her self that is sleeping, eyes getting a bit of shade from the man's profile. the man is dressed casually and reads a magazine while he easily, very simply holds the soul of this woman.

i sit and watch them until they get off. i wonder if they realize the miracle they share. the miracle that is a love so remarkably ordinary that it is an incredibly moving sight on a crowded train home.

this photo doesn't show much. i took it discreetly, the camera just resting on the bag on my lap. i even coughed when i pressed the shutter release. i wish That Much that i were invisible while taking photographs.

but perhaps such candor in the composition of this photograph makes it all the more significant.

i didn't take this on the 29th of december, the 5th day of quotidie. and there is no excuse for my lack of photography (that i was happy about) for the 5th day.

but when i took this (21st), i knew that i had to give it a day in this project.

p4 : dalmatian

p4 : dalmatian, originally uploaded by light paintbrush.

quotidie
pilot week
day 4 (december 28)

hurriedly walking in the cold to buy newspaper from a shop, my sister and i spotted this.

it was at this moment that i realized i had never seen a dalmatian in real life before. it took me eighteen years. or maybe, i had never seen one fully-grown like this. it was a funny feeling, almost surreal - however insignificant it may be, seeing a dog tied to a lamppost.

it looks rather majestic, standing like this and just waiting for its owner. white and four-legged, it definitely stood out in the shadowed area of this street.

p3 : pause

p3 : pause, originally uploaded by light paintbrush.

quotidie
pilot week
day 3 (december 27)

going through all the photos of this day, i find myself drawn to this one the most. a photo of a mother and her daughter running to catch the bus came a close second, but this still won me over by a mile.

i am not sure what draws me to this. maybe it's the contrast of the sillhouetted metal structures against the bright afternoon sun streaking through the clouds. or maybe it's the eye-catching red and orange traffic lights in the middle of the photo, in the middle of stark black, in the middle of that bright afternoon sun.

and the smudged look of the photo, almost dreamy. that's one thing i consciously tried to capture while taking this because i was aware of the moist windows on the bus we were in. (i am now looking for a way to smudge my lens filter with some sort of gel to recreate that dreamy feel, without my father deeming it irresponsible.)


pause and look up at the sky.

p2 : reminiscent

p2 : reminiscent, originally uploaded by light paintbrush.

quotidie
pilot week
day 2 (december 26)

my father looks up at a lone framed family sutdio portrait on the bare wall beside the front door. there was a single hook when we got here, and it was my sister's idea to cozy up this place a bit by putting the framed photo there. "ang cute niyo noon oh," (you two were so cute then) my dad says.

"cute pa rin naman ah!" (still cute!) my sister liana says, sitting on carpeted stairs. her face lit up by the morning sun flooding in with a slight winter chill from the open front door, she looks up at her five-year-old self, and justifies her statement by recreating the pose with the same childlike abandon she has beautifully kept alive for seventeen years.

p1 : christmas lamp

p1 : christmas lamp, originally uploaded by light paintbrush.

quotidie
pilot week
day 1 (december 25)

our aunt's house didn't have a Christmas tree, so the Christmas tree decorations went onto the lamps instead.

this photo speaks of nothing extravagant of a day that is celebrated worldwide, prepared for for months, sung about for centuries. this photo isn't a massive Christmas tree, or a sumptuous dinner laid out on a table with candles.

but it does speak of an extravagant spirit. it speaks of grandeur in small packages. of makeshift homes and the heart over circumstance.

it speaks of the Light that came into the world on this day: grandeur that came down as a baby and a cold stable turned cozy by spirits of faith.

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quotidie: remarkably ordinary
this is the beginning of my photo project that officially starts in a week: 2009.
just a photo a day. the title of the project is enough to explain its purpose.
please pray for this, because it's not easy for me to produce a photograph that i like, let alone produce one each day.

starting over for real