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.
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| A rather creepy welcoming, but I adore it nonetheless! |
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| Continuity. |
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| Tree of steel. |
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| 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.
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| Peeking. |
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| The symmetry yet lack of symmetry, |
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| Overheads are not empty and uninviting. |
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| So adorable! Think I may need one? |
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| Spring roll cans. |
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| Fabric. The smell of lavender, the softness, the way it moves with the wind. Simply heavenly. |
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| Said tufts of grass. I was so delighted. |
