The First Exhibition

My graphical works in ink are being displayed for five days during this week in an exhibition. Yesterday I was at the coctail lounge. I cannot describe how special it felt inside, to complete one piece of work and introduce it to people.

I vividly remember when I got the first large piece of "schoeller" and started from the first stracth. Then the figures appeared one by one: the faces, the bodies; the small leaves on the branches, all boundaries in black bright ink...

One other thing I recall is that, I was quite doubtful on the successful completion of the work. Ink was some material which I was not familiar with; besides it required delicate and careful work and much effort than any other drawing styles. But, in the end, when the three graphical drawings were complete, I was flattered upon seeing the beauty in the work and hearing all the good words from the people around.

Yesterday at the exhibition, I was so proud of myself. I guess only the people that produce, create, design or compose artistically can really understand what I felt deep inside. It is much more than to explain in words of pride, joy or pleasure.

I will not be modest and disdain my work; I regard myself as born gifted. It is so special to be able to create and produce; I am now dying to create more stuff to work on. I hope all my future work will be displayed in many other galleries... Years would pass, and, with a smile on my face, I would then had a vision of that very first date my work was on display...

Impressions of a New World

I am in Doha/Qatar for a couple of days this week. This will be a short writing on observations in a new environment. There is so much to talk about when you've been in a different country with a different culture. But I won't comment on anything about the buildings or the city etc. What I found striking here is that the social status of people. The city is full of people from different cultures. You can see all the colours of the world. The local Qatari people: the Arabs, the expatriates from the different countries: European, American and Turkish etc; and the worker class, Indians, Philippine, Pakistani, Nepali and the Africans. As I have observed and utterly decided, here there exists an unofficial caste system, just like in India. The people here all know what they are and are quite aware of what has given them their social status in this small society.

The Qatari are wearing those long white loose robes, with the untied turban-like fabrics on their heads; rarely seen on the street walking, with their heads up, even when crossing the street, never looking right or left, passing by with an arrogant posture. The Indians, Pakistani and the Philippine are working in the city or at the construction sites at low-class jobs, with salaries even the less-paid person in Turkiye would never be willing to work for. For most of them, their only chance to survival is right here, doing what is said to be done, and not caring about the clothes they wear, the style of their hair, the colour of the new shoes or even life itself. However, most of them seem quite happy with what they have, especially the Philippine. I sensed and observed that as I had a little chit chat with the Philippine maid cleaning my guestroom. She had the silent and timid moves, even lead me to think that she is afraid of me.

I must admit, I do pity for those people here. And it made me see how lucky I am and how much I bother for the little things in my life. Those people do not even have anything to complain about. They live only with their basic physical needs satisfied.

Feeling what racism is really about is easy here, finding out all the unbearable attitudes and differences of people. But I believe that those people were not given any chance to choose where to begin their lives and where to end. Their only gratitude is to keep on living, to survive whatever the circumstances may be…