Hope Goes Both Ways

I could tell you I'm going through a bad patch.

Been there, done that, left a big wet one on Beloved's shoulder.

But I thought the recent posts on Lianain are far more interesting and inspiring.

Women in Bangladesh are a cloistered lot. Most look after the house and take care of kids while their husbands go out to work. Some husbands, we’ve discovered, leave and never return. Or they leave and come back, dead. Or they leave, come back, and die unexpectedly.

What happens then? Some women fall apart, get kicked out of their homes, lose their kids and generally, lead miserable lives. Others rely on the goodwill of their relatives. A small handful - like Nasrin - decide to take things into their own hands.

Nasrin, if you remember, is Abdul Wahab’s wife. We met during our most recent trip to Dhaka. She had just lost her husband and was clearly in distress. She didn’t say much that morning. Seemed a bit shy. But a few days ago, she called Mohsin, our translator, to seek help.

Nasrin, you see, has a plan. She wants to learn how to sew. She’s even found someone to teach her – two lessons a week for the next six months, for 2,000 takas. That’s less than S$50. Fifty life-changing dollars. Nasrin thinks that with some sewing skills and a sewing machine, she’ll be able to support herself and her two young daughters.

The rest of the article simply tells us of the simple and straightforward way in which Lianain Films helped put together a proposal for a sewing workshop, and started the ball rolling for donations.

Charity drives are sometimes annoying, aren't they? I'm sure you and anyone else who is reading this, has received an email or call from a friend asking for sponsorship for one charitable organization or another. And they'll do all sorts in order to persuade you part with your cash. Climb mountains? Run marathons? Wander around the muddy countryside?

Ahem.

With these charity fundraisers, there seems to be an unspoken principle of "the more money raised, the better". While that is indeed factually true - ie. more funds means more help for more people, it's heartening to know that sometimes, it's a very very small sum that can possibly make a big difference in someone's life. And indeed, only $300 was needed to give this widow a hope for a new life.

I've heard some interesting discussions regarding charity recently. One argument put forward is that charities are simply a band-aid put over wounds unattended by the State. Another common criticism is that charities are laden with bureaucracy, are inefficient and at times, corrupt.

These points are not incorrect.

And yet, sometimes, it can actually make a difference in another human being's life.

So yes, we should critique the State. We should vote better. We should keep our wits about us when approached by campaigners with a clipboard.

It might be trite and true - charity is self-serving, it makes us feel better. It certainly helps me. But so what? Hope goes both ways. I want to give hope, because it gives me hope.

In the words of a very wise friend, "You go with common sense and err on the side of compassion."

Got a little cash? Spread some hope today. Email contact [at] lianainfilms [dot] com.

Also, we're close to the goal of $1000 for the walking charity fundraiser for Project Enlighten. Woohoo. Not far now, so please do keep the donations coming in.

Picnic in the Park

Recently, I've been a little blue.

A little blue ogre, to be exact. A little grumpy blue ogre.

Perhaps it's the wishy-washy weather.

Perhaps it's the chesty cough I can't seem to shake since March. I was sent to the hospital for a chest x-ray but for some reason, they booked me in for an x-ray in the A&E department. I sat in the waiting room surrounded by folks that were actually whimpering and yelping aloud in pain. When they called my name first, I cringed in guilt.

Perhaps it's me needing a break out of London.

Perhaps there's a 10 ft tall tree in my garden that needs to be evacuated and I have no idea how they're going to pull it out and through my flat.

And so forth with other grumpiness-inducing factors.

So it was very lovely when the sun came out somewhat coyly in the afternoon yesterday. The city slowed to a crawl as commuters struggled along due to the tube strike. I texted Beloved to see if he wanted to go for a walk and he suggested an impromptu picnic in the park.

Regent's Park was lovely and cool. New blooms of yellow and red have replaced the spring posies that had wilted. Even the sunflowers were winking their large eyes.



We sat on a bench and observed passers-by, dogs and squirrels while eating fresh raspberries, salmon terrine and crackers, prawn and noodle salad, and washed it all down with ale and a bottle of kir royale.

All the while, debating, of course, about the individual need to exercise the creative urge vs the overabundance of bad art in the world.

Fantasy Think Tank

Picture from here.

I was asked an interesting question today. "Who would you go to talk to about your career, your work, the issues of the world and how you see yourself and what you'd like to do in the future?"

I was momentarily stunned, but then went on to answer, "My friend, Lynn, a fantastic filmmaker and even better human being. Also, she knows me, what I care about, how I think and what I would be willing to do."

"Who's another person?" I was pressed further.

"Um..my [beloved]..." I answered. "He works in a very different discipline, and in some ways, he's completely different from me in the way he thinks and sees the world. While he's still figuring out what I am about, he's a clear analytical thinker, and he can translate goals and desires into practical steps towards implementation." I nearly added that he knew 12 decimal places of Pi, and surely, that meant he knew why 42 was the answer to the universe. But I suspected that was not what was being asked.

"No," I was told, "If you could have access to anyone in the world, anyone with the expertise and knowledge, who would you want to speak with?" As I was to find out, my inquirer had access to some of the most celebrated individuals - philanthropists, cultural leaders, politicians etc - and was trying to figure out how to put a panel of conversationalists together to discuss why arts cultural policy had gone so wrong in some ways. Names like George Soros and Brian Eno were mentioned.

Ah, now I understood the parameters of her question - who could help us think about how can we help make better art in the world we live in, and/or how can art make the world better?

I thought about it for a while, and decided I was not interested in listening to anyone who would be considered to have status or success in the arts sector. While it wasn't always so, I'd worry that it just meant this person had demonstrated an ability to play the public arts funding system, and be a part of the problem itself. The Emperor's new clothes must have had its crowd of cheerers.

I'd like to listen, instead, to a conversation between visionaries, an educator and a cultural anthropologist - ie. a futurist, an implementor/advisor and a historian. Imagine that - that could have been a chat between the Larry Page and Sergey Brin, Socrates and Philippe Bourgois.

I know I should throw in an economist in there, but it's late, I'm still feeling idealistic so I shan't.

Weekend - Please Don't Feed the Dinosaurs

Once in a while, I get a craving for a particular burst of flavours in my mouth that I identify with as completely Asian. It was a good thing an old friend flew into town this weekend, and we ended the working week with a scrummy meal at Bugis Street in South Kensington.

In true Asian style, we shared Malaysian Curry Chicken, Seafood Hor Fun, Char Kway Teow, Hainanese Chicken Rice, Aubergine with Chili and Fried Banana Fritters. Beloved also had Sago Melaka, which he seemed to adore (he scooped up every drop!)

The rest of the weekend was spent in the hot sun in the parks. A frisbee was thrown. Wine was consumed (except I am on antibiotics and can't drink!)



We even managed to find the old dinosaurs at Crystal Palace. Well, almost all of them. No dactyls, unfortunately. We couldn't find them despite the signs, a map and an iPhone. Go figure.





And a barbecue is a great way to end the weekend!

The Need for Myth

We were down at the Frontline Club this week to listen to David Aaronovitch deconstruct conspiracy theories. We were pretty excited about this, but unfortunately, while it was entertaining, it wasn't hugely enlightening.

Since Beloved is a Skeptic, he found the talk somewhat frustratingly mainstream in its journalistic style. Similarly, for me, I didn't find the list of de-bunked conspiracies all that provocative. One interesting comment that did emerge, however, was an observation that perhaps, the desire for conspiracy theories is a modern exercise of the traditional form of oral history - that the act of story-telling is in itself an expression of the human need for meaning. Therefore, if the actual version of history is somewhat unsatisfactory, there is an impetus to invent a better version suited to affirm our framework of meaning.



A couple of days later, I attended the private view of Clemens Von Wedemeyer's film installation, The Fourth Wall. The central anthroplogical enquiry to this work was intriguing and engaging - the question of whether any group of people can truly be classified as "undiscovered," when the very act of contact changes that quality. Highlighting the dilemma of Schrödinger's cat, this wonderfully executed installation also brought together filmic and theatrical concerns of the fourth wall, the viewer and the gaze, as well as the cultural phenomenon of the hoax.

What grabbed me in particular was the reference to the controversial docu-drama film, Cannibal Holocaust, which included an interview with the director. This film holds particular significance for me. I was a tender seven years old when my father took me to the cinema and we watched this film. I loved my Dad, but it was an odd choice for a kid. While I forgot the title of the film, scenes from the film stayed vivid in my mind for many years. For a while, I thought it was a particularly bad nightmare. I feel queasy even thinking about it now.

I realized it was a film some time back - that was another "Oh my god...what were you thinking, Dad?" moment, but for some reason, no one else I knew had seen it. To have it referenced in this installation both amused, horrified and delighted me. It afforded me a personal connection to the installation, and I cornered the artist and questioned him about the director.

We had tickets to watch Objectified, directed by Gary Hustwit. The film began on a joyful note with its cheery delight in the objects we use everyday, and the celebration of the design and though behind the pieces. But it felt a little thin after a while - there was just a little much gushing and posing. It would have been interesting to hear voices from outside the design industry and some historical context with regards to various iconic objects/brands. I'm still stoked to watch Helvetica though, there's a certain unexpected quirky charm about a film about a type font.

So a common theme this week - that there is an apparent and obvious need for meaning. It's the story behind everything and every thing.

Back to the Big Bang

The Institution of Engineering and Technology hosts a series of Prestige Lectures every year as part of their calendar of events. This evening, as part of the Young Professionals Event, we were treated to a two part lecture by Lyn Evans of CERN and Dr Tara Shears of the University of Liverpool, on "Back to the Big Bang: the Large Hadron Collider."

The event was hosted at the Savoy Place, along the Embankment, which offered a pretty cosy auditorium (you have your own mic under your armrest in case you get enthusiastic during the Q&A) and a lovely 5th level bar and balcony that overlooks Waterloo Bridge and the Thames.



The first part of the lecture provided insight into the huge engineering feat involved in simply constructing the device. Tunnels had been dug from 75-100m deep under Geneva, with a circumference of 27km, in order to house the circular tubes and magnets. In one instance, Evans informed us that they dug deep and found a river. So in order to push through, they froze the river and hammered through. The rest of his lecture covered the intricacies of installing the massive magnets and the chemical difficulties involved in cooling helium.

While the first part of the lecture simply underlined how large the project was, how many nations were involved, and how many international scientists were contributing the effort, the second part of the lecture personalized the work of a particle physicist.

Dr Tara Shears, with her obsession with the very large and very tiny - represented both the meticulous particularity involved in scientific research and the broader fascination of the field - whereby the scrutiny of tiny particles might afford observations that might provide answers to the big questions of the universe.



It was impossible, not to be a little impressed, even despite not being an engineer or physicist, with the immensity of the project and the audacity of the attempt to reenact the moments after the Big Bang. It was thence which lies the origins of our existence.

We were quickly brought back down to earth by the Q&A session that followed, especially by what they termed "the civil engineering question," "What's the worst that could happen?" We were quickly reassured that no worm hole large enough to matter would be created, although no word was said as to whether Geneva might ever accidentally blow up.

Still, large and small matters aside, we trooped upstairs for red wine that flowed generously.

P.S. Apparently, Stephen Hawkings has put a bet of one hundred dollars against the Higgs particle being found.

Weekend Fun

Lovely weekend that began with watching Anne of Green Gables while eating roquefort and blue cheese with crackers, followed by a day of talks at the "Battle of the Economy" forum at the Institute of Ideas. Nothing like dragging oneself out of bed on a Saturday morning to listen to panel talk about economics and the recession! Unfortunately, no one seems any the wiser as to what we should do about the problem.

Saturday evening was great fun at the Shake Rattle and Bowl for my friend, Jen's hen night. We all dressed up in 50s style clothing, sang karaoke, ate burgers at the diner and danced to jive tunes next to the bowling rink.

Thankfully, Sunday was a lazy day in, after the walk was rained out. Still, it meant an opportunity to invite some folks round for pasta and a geeky game of Illuminati. This time round, I was controllingThe Church of the Sub-Genius, but it was really Beloved playing as The Network, that won the game with great panache with equal bouts of strategic sneakiness and sheer luck. (How sexy is his big clever brain! Shhh... don't tell him I said that.)

Ah, Monday was here all too soon. But sometimes the very pleasant walks we take together to work, make it much easier to face the week. We took a little longer way this time, through the very pretty Regent's Park and its bubbling fountains and colourful posies.

"You give off this strong sense of home," she said. "You know that? This I'm-from-a-big-family vibe. It's nice. It makes you feel solid." I was pleased-even though I was not sure I fully understood-and said thank you for want of anything better to say. Then, hesitantly because I did not wish to be too forward, I asked, "And you, do you feel solid?"

She considered this and said, with what I thought was a trace of sadness in her voice, "Sometimes, but no, not really."

The Reluctant Fundamentalist, Mohsin Hamid

Ceci n'est pas un pistalet