Overload
Get ready for one.
First up, Urban Faces.
I am upset that the pageant leaned more on the basis of popularity and supporters, in terms of audience voting system, than actual beauty, not that i have any. It was too my disadvantage as i wasnt as popular as the rest, who were backed up by their large CCA groups that came and voted, and that many who knew me just were not there.
I guess the most excruciating part was how the pageant had surfaced skin-deep insecurities i had within myself - shortly after being shortlisted, only to find out that i have let my guard down and be bathed in humiliation, in vunerability, because my score board had more board then scores.
After the first day, i let out a bitter laugh and accepted the fact that i will never win in a popularity contest. I also got myself mentally prepared for the next round, by stomping all manner of expectations and hopes and just sail through it with a smile, keeping in mind its just for the fun of it.
Then the next round came. Just like a routine i was used to. During the voting session, i didnt even bother to go around asking people i've never met to stick blue stickers on my board. However i collected enough to take them out of the board and be arranged to spell my name. Heh. I wasnt even humiliated anymore. Life is easier when you accept reality.
For those who knew me, and voted for me, thank you so much.
Ahai... semarak buta, engkau tidak kemana. apa benar?
The experience was priceless, and so was the company. 10 more people to smile to as i walk pass them in the flurry of campus life, trying hard to recall their names. Cheers to good sportsmanship.
Next up, MAG's Performances By SNT and PST.
PST. I dont know why, but from the start, i worried about the set's ability to be staged without leaving the audience yawning and possibly also reducing of our spirits and will to perform. 3 songs to choose from. I personally liked the first one. The one laced with the memory of 'defeat'. I wonder why they even bothered giving us choices when 'they' have already decided on the second song. Shy and afraid to disrupt that comfort zone that automatically binds the 'Anything' attitude, i decided to keep mum. To starve myself of an honest opinion. Satisfaction robbed.
And to think i thought it was the composition or arrangement of the the people, taking up their respective roles, that failed to liven up the atmospere, in this complicated art form.
It was so embarassing that i did not acknowledge a dikir barat activist who was there to play audience. Truthfully, im ashamed. truthfully, i have no solution for it.
Our spirit has been muffled. Muffled beyond comprehension. Muffled by a force waiting to be identified. Its time for change. Its time to clean the cobwebs and replace the flickering light bulb.
Our reputation is at stake.
For all that it's worth
SNT
My love affair.
The reason people question my loyalty.
The reason for great opportunity, for photography.
The reason carpets are littered with glitter.
The reason i questioned my significance (and contributions? sacrificial actions? if any)
I managed to capture some interesting human emotions from the dancers.
Both represent that moment in time where the subconcious mind takes over, for a rest from the plasticity of the stage smile, in a display of worries that might have clouded their mind with each step they execute and the next they try to recall.
Here you see lina, choreographer, resting, waiting for her next dance step. Letting lethargy set in. Allowing worry to distort her eyebrows slightly. Ushering numbers to dance in her head, as she wait. and worry.
in this photo, we see dee removed of her stage smile. removed of her temporary happiness. reduced to being troubled by some that hangs only in her head, and not for the audience to see. a confession stubbornly clinging to her buccal cavity, never wanting to escape those pursed lips.
Although this was posed, it still has the ability to stir a few emotion that we constantly play in our hearts.
Concept: Aida. Artistic Direction and Photography: Irfan. -ceh ceh ceh
Overloading,
underpressure
Pahlawan Putih
Get ready for one.
First up, Urban Faces.
I am upset that the pageant leaned more on the basis of popularity and supporters, in terms of audience voting system, than actual beauty, not that i have any. It was too my disadvantage as i wasnt as popular as the rest, who were backed up by their large CCA groups that came and voted, and that many who knew me just were not there.
I guess the most excruciating part was how the pageant had surfaced skin-deep insecurities i had within myself - shortly after being shortlisted, only to find out that i have let my guard down and be bathed in humiliation, in vunerability, because my score board had more board then scores.
After the first day, i let out a bitter laugh and accepted the fact that i will never win in a popularity contest. I also got myself mentally prepared for the next round, by stomping all manner of expectations and hopes and just sail through it with a smile, keeping in mind its just for the fun of it.
Then the next round came. Just like a routine i was used to. During the voting session, i didnt even bother to go around asking people i've never met to stick blue stickers on my board. However i collected enough to take them out of the board and be arranged to spell my name. Heh. I wasnt even humiliated anymore. Life is easier when you accept reality.
For those who knew me, and voted for me, thank you so much.
Ahai... semarak buta, engkau tidak kemana. apa benar?
The experience was priceless, and so was the company. 10 more people to smile to as i walk pass them in the flurry of campus life, trying hard to recall their names. Cheers to good sportsmanship.
Next up, MAG's Performances By SNT and PST.
PST. I dont know why, but from the start, i worried about the set's ability to be staged without leaving the audience yawning and possibly also reducing of our spirits and will to perform. 3 songs to choose from. I personally liked the first one. The one laced with the memory of 'defeat'. I wonder why they even bothered giving us choices when 'they' have already decided on the second song. Shy and afraid to disrupt that comfort zone that automatically binds the 'Anything' attitude, i decided to keep mum. To starve myself of an honest opinion. Satisfaction robbed.
And to think i thought it was the composition or arrangement of the the people, taking up their respective roles, that failed to liven up the atmospere, in this complicated art form.
It was so embarassing that i did not acknowledge a dikir barat activist who was there to play audience. Truthfully, im ashamed. truthfully, i have no solution for it.
Our spirit has been muffled. Muffled beyond comprehension. Muffled by a force waiting to be identified. Its time for change. Its time to clean the cobwebs and replace the flickering light bulb.
Our reputation is at stake.
For all that it's worth
SNT
My love affair.
The reason people question my loyalty.
The reason for great opportunity, for photography.
The reason carpets are littered with glitter.
The reason i questioned my significance (and contributions? sacrificial actions? if any)
I managed to capture some interesting human emotions from the dancers.
Both represent that moment in time where the subconcious mind takes over, for a rest from the plasticity of the stage smile, in a display of worries that might have clouded their mind with each step they execute and the next they try to recall.
Here you see lina, choreographer, resting, waiting for her next dance step. Letting lethargy set in. Allowing worry to distort her eyebrows slightly. Ushering numbers to dance in her head, as she wait. and worry.
in this photo, we see dee removed of her stage smile. removed of her temporary happiness. reduced to being troubled by some that hangs only in her head, and not for the audience to see. a confession stubbornly clinging to her buccal cavity, never wanting to escape those pursed lips.
Although this was posed, it still has the ability to stir a few emotion that we constantly play in our hearts.
Concept: Aida. Artistic Direction and Photography: Irfan. -ceh ceh ceh
Overloading,
underpressure
Pahlawan Putih
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