Made a visit to one of the few artist village today, and, although it was deathly quiet except for the occasional black box theatre rehearsals, I enjoyed passing through the studios and admiring their exterior decor. The little patch of sunlit open space on the roof with grass tufts made me feel a little chirpier despite the emptiness of the space. But then when I think about it, I like emptiness and vast, open spaces. Space that seems to go on and on forever on a blank white canvas and envelopes you into their inviting embrace. Waiting for a motion to make a mark, draw a curve, paint a dot. While we were traversing this factory of studios, he wondered out loud how much would it cost to rent a space and transform it into our own wonderland where we are able to produce our own little novice works of art.

A rather creepy welcoming, but I adore it nonetheless!

Continuity.

Tree of steel.

Man-made nature. 

I remember these lining the walls of village houses from my childhood days. Half the time they were filled with colorful printed pamphlets.

Peeking.

The symmetry yet lack of symmetry,

Overheads are not empty and uninviting.

So adorable! Think I may need one?

Spring roll cans.

Fabric. The smell of lavender, the softness, the way it moves with the wind. Simply heavenly.

Said tufts of grass. I was so delighted.