The two previous posts in this series were realistic drawings, but now for something a bit different.
I recently went to an event at a local library which had a booth by Drool Stamps. There was a selection of lovely stamps to try out, and blank bookmarks which you could customise.
I chose a shophouse stamp for my bookmark, and then painted it at home.
The colours were loosely inspired by the Sim Kwong Ho shophouses, but I took some artistic liberties.
My friend Abbi's 3-year-old nephew made this Thanksgiving Turkey – or rather his mom filled it in for him, but he told her what to write.
It says water bottle, my guitar pick, snacks, new baby sister, Aunt Lisa, zoo, Daddy, Mama, Aunt Abbi, Uncle Nate.
I asked Abbi about the guitar pick and she said, "My mom found one and gave it to him (he loves music and has a little pretend guitar). But he lost it 😂"
Anyway, I love guitar pick and water bottle – that he is thankful for objects – and cheap, everyday objects at that. It got me thinking about cheap, everyday objects that I am thankful for.
I recently got these plastic drawers which were only S$5 each (you can see them on the shelf below the typewriter).
I used to keep my art supplies in my storeroom, but now that I have them in my study, in neatly organised drawers, I use them more.
I'm likewise thankful for my cotton bedsheet, a pair of sneakers that I got for a steal (secondhand but unused), and a mint-blue retro-style toaster which I found abandoned in our recycling bay.
In my previous post, there's a photo of Chiok (who made the pomelo kombucha) and our mutual friend Emiri. Emiri is Japanese, and said itadakimasu before drinking. Chiok's partner Guofeng asked her what it means, and Emiri said it's a way of saying thanks.
| Guofeng: | Like thanks to Chiok, for making the kombucha? |
| Emiri: | To everyone. To Chiok, to the farmer who grew the pomelo, the people you bought ingredients from, and also to the pomelo. |
In last month's post I talked at length about homebrewed kombucha, but I forgot to say – and I will just put it out there without false modesty – it's really good. Or as the kids say, my kombucha slaps. A few people have independently told me that it's the best kombucha they ever tasted.
I continue to experiment with different flavours. The bottle on the right is plain kombucha, but the one on the left has blue-pea tea (my neighbour got dried blue-pea flowers from an organic farm in Thailand, and gave me some to try).
My blue-pea kombucha is purple because anthocyanin, the pigment in blue-pea flowers, is a pH indicator. It's blue in water, but if you add an acid – like lemon juice or kombucha – it turns purple.
I still do kombucha-tastings with Chiok and Guofeng, who, like me, got their SCOBY from my friend Violet. Pictured below is Chiok's grapefruit and pomelo kombucha, which also slaps.
I also started making water kefir (below left) which is another fermented drink. Also tasty, and easier than kombucha – shorter fermentation time, and only needs sugar (not tea). But to me, it's not as delicious and complex as good kombucha.
The jar on the right is kombucha-pickled cherries, flavoured with cinnamon and star anise. These turned out okay – nothing special. But you ideally want fresh cherries, and I could only find frozen ones here in Singapore. If I find fresh cherries, I might try it again, because the recipe looks promising.
A house on my street is being renovated. There are various notices on the gate, including a cute and unexpected "No Fighting!"
My friend Abbi said, "Maybe we should have that notice everywhere."
I was cycling past this shrine on Rangoon Road in Singapore (that's my bike in the photo), when I noticed that it has Taoist deity Tua Pek Kong cohabiting with Hindu deity Ganesh.
In front of Ganesh, there is a bottle and a can of Strawberry Fanta. Ganesh keeps healthy.
Sometime back I drew one of my neighbourhood buildings on Balestier Road, and although it was my only such drawing at the time, I optimistically titled the post Balestier Buildings 1 because I was hoping it could be a series.
I suppose there need to be at least two to call it a series, but would I ever get round to making another drawing? If the suspense was keeping you up at night, worry no more: I hereby present the second drawing of the series.
Whampoa Colour Centre may be visually less interesting than Lam Yeo Coffee Powder Factory, but it's a part of my life because I go there to develop colour film (I process black-and-white at home).
The shop is run by a man in his 60s or early 70s ("Uncle", as we call him). One time I wanted some inkjet prints, and he said it would take about five minutes. I also needed a baguette, so I said no problem, I'll quickly pop by the bakery next door.
Uncle shook his head in exasperation. "You people, always rushing, rushing. It just take five minutes. You wait!"
I waited. Sometimes, it's good to slow down. After all, that's one reason I still shoot film too.
I went to two Chinese puppet shows in the last year, which were both interesting but very different.
The first one was by Ge Yi Hokkien Opera & Puppet Troupe at Hong San See Temple. It was free to attend, but for the performance that we went to, my friend Carol and I were the only audience. Although Carol was saying that the performance is mainly intended for the temple gods, so maybe publicising it for and attracting a mortal audience is not high on the temple's agenda.
The dialogue was in (possibly archaic) Hokkien, and although Carol is fluent in Mandarin, she could only understand bits and pieces. But I thought it was cool that they had live music, and we could see "backstage" simply by peeping around. I love the handpainted sets and backdrops too.
In the photo below, you can see one of the puppeteer's hands.
The other show was much more lavish: Journey West: Mount Fiery by Paper Monkey Theatre. It was in the air-conditioned auditorium of the Singapore Chinese Cultural Centre, and a ticketed performance, although I got a complimentary pass from my friend Redwan who was one of the musicians.
In the photo below you can see two of the puppeteers, clad in outfits that bear an amusing resemblance to beekeeping suits.
The story was mostly enacted through puppets, but for some bits, they also had human figures in costume, which was more like traditional theatre or opera.
Journey West had higher production values, and English surtitles which helped me follow the plot. But as a cultural experience, I have to say it was the temple performance that I enjoyed more.
For my birthday which was a couple of months ago, my friend Violet (who has Many Hobbies) gave me a layer from her SCOBY and thus initiated me into a new hobby: brewing kombucha.
There are lots of online resources, but if you're not familiar with the process – which I wasn't, until recently – here's a quick summary of how to make this funky fermented tea.
The SCOBY is a living thing, short for symbiotic culture of bacteria and yeast ("yum," said my friend Abbi, when I told her what it stands for). It has the texture of a rubber mat, and typically floats on the surface of the brewing vessel.
Well, I say "typically floats", but when I started my second batch of fermentation, my SCOBY sank partially, ending up suspended halfway down the jar. I looked online to see if it's a bad sign, and found reassuring comments like "Nothing wrong with the scoby sinking!" and my favourite: "Scoby does whatever it wants to do."
Anyhow, now it floats again.
For the first fermentation (F1), you put the SCOBY, water, tea and cane sugar in a jar, cover the mouth with cloth, and let the microorganisms do their thing. I use loose-leaf oolong tea from Fujian province, purchased from NTUC. Here you see the tea being steeped in hot water, before I strain out the leaves and use the liquor for F1.
After about a week of F1, it's technically kombucha, and ready to drink. However, most people do another fermentation step (F2), which is when the drink is flavoured and carbonated.
F2 takes 2–3 days. You simply pour off the kombucha – leaving the SCOBY and a bit of extra liquid in the jar for the next round of fermentation – into a sealable container like a flip-top bottle. Then you add whatever you want to flavour it with, such as fruit juice, purée, herbs or spices, and seal the bottle. These are two bottles from my most recent batch: strawberry and mint (left) and pomegranate (right):
If the flavouring agent has some sugar content Рlike pur̩ed fruit, which is a popular choice Рthen that should be enough to carbonate the brew. Otherwise, e.g. if you're just adding herbs or spices, you can add cane sugar for carbonation.
For my first batch, I made two bottles: dragonfruit and grape. Violet said her kombucha is not very fizzy, so I figured mine would be similar. Most people recommend F2 for 2-3 days. I gave it 3 days, to ensure adequate more carbonation. This is what happened when I opened the bottles:
The video on the left (dragonfruit) is playing at regular speed, but the one on the right (grape) is at 3x (I sped it up to fit). I suspect the grape kombucha was less fizzy because after 3 days of F2, I kept it overnight in the fridge, which slows down the fermentation process and also makes the gas more soluble.
I'm lucky the bottles didn't explode – thanks Ikea. Since then, I've reduced F2 to two days, which seems about right. My kombucha is fizzy but not excessively so.
Healthy SCOBY grows thicker with time, forming more layers – so you can peel off a layer and give it to a friend. Violet bought her SCOBY online, but then she gave some to me, and also to our mutual friends Chiok and Guofeng. So now we all make kombucha, experiment with different flavours, and compare notes. I took this pic at a recent tasting session at Chiok and Guofeng's place.
Since then, three more people have asked me for SCOBY. Soon this SCOBY will colonise Singapore, with only the wild boar for competition.
I took this photo a couple of years ago in our backyard in Kolkata:
They look different but I'm pretty sure they are the same species: oriental garden lizard, also known as changeable lizard because they can change colour. Wikipedia says:
The ground-colour is generally a light brownish olive, but the lizard can change it to bright red, to black, and to a mixture of both. This change is sometimes confined to the head, at other times diffused over the whole body and tail.
Sometime back I posted phone pics of an electric blue jumping spider, and said "someday I hope to get a good macro shot of one of these beauties".
Since then I've been carrying my camera more frequently when I go for walks in the Botanic Gardens, and keeping an eye out for spiders – and you really do need to keep an eye out, because these guys are tiny!
Besides the electric blue jumping spider (Phintella vittata) that I saw earlier, there are at least two other species with a jewel-like blue-green carapace (this post was very helpful for identification).
1. Cosmophasis thalassina (sea green jumping spider)
With their big round eyes, jumping spiders are incredibly cute and photogenic. Wikipedia describes them in more sedate terms:
the large anterior eyes of Salticidae are adapted to detailed, three-dimensional vision for purposes of estimating the range, direction, and nature of potential prey, permitting the spider to direct its attacking leaps with great precision.
2. Cosmophasis umbratica (shiny jumping spider)
3. Phintella vittata (electric blue jumping spider)
Another reason I love jumping spiders is because they are so curious, often gazing up at me and my camera – perhaps sizing us up as potential prey – and even jumping onto my bag (as in the photo above) or my arm (below). That's my forearm hair, in case you needed a reminder of how tiny they are.
Some photos from my recent trip to London, as promised. Captions are below each photo.
One-second exposure resting my camera on the railing. My friend who was with me saw the photo on my LCD and asked for a copy to hang on her wall :)
Phone pic! I hadn't been to Camden Art Centre in all the years I lived in London. This time round, I met a friend here for coffee. I'm glad I went; it's a lovely space.
It would have been easy enough to straighten this in post, but I like the Dutch tilt.
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Blog note: The text column of my blogposts is 580px wide. But if images are 580px wide, the image quality suffers on high-pixel-density displays like the one on my Asus Zenbook laptop. One solution is to upload 1500px-wide images, and edit the HTML code so that they are displayed at 580px. I've been doing this manually for a while, but Tommy kindly wrote some code for me which makes the process easier.
Sometimes I think I should post animal photos only if it's (a) a relatively uncommon animal, or (b) a common animal exhibiting some interesting behaviour. But I think there's something to be said for animals in good light, even if – as in this case – they are relatively common animals, just going about their day.
The first animal literally has "common" in its name – the common sun skink. And true to its name, it was sitting in a patch of sunlight.
And this here is a white-crested laughingthrush:
My friend's kid, who is into Pokémon, asked for a Charizard drawing, for which I repurposed a page from my UK visa application. I then cut around the drawing and made it into a card, but I think the full page is more amusing.
I live just off Balestier Road in Singapore, and I really like the street, and my neighbourhood in general. Among other things, there are quite a few buildings with real character – interesting in a quiet way. The street is eclectic (or chapalang). There are the usual shopping malls, hotels and condominiums, but also Buddhist temples, 90s-style nightclubs, durian stalls, baroque shophouses and a Chinese opera stage.
Most of Singapore is modern – at times it feels almost too modern. But Balestier has several older buildings and establishments. One of those is Lam Yeo Coffee Powder Factory, which sells ground coffee and beans. And which I decided to try and draw.
I'm hoping this can be a series, which is why I optimistically titled this post Balestier Buildings 1. This one is a fineliner sketch, but in future I might try watercolour as well.
For me, the gold standard for this type of drawing is abbillust (no relation to my friend Abbi, mentioned previously). If I could choose between painting like Raphael and drawing like Abby – I kid you not: I would choose drawing like Abby.
A few months ago I shared a photo of an oriental whip snake, but that was in the daytime. Now here's one by night, also in Pasir Ris Park:
And a four-lined tree frog (such lovely colours):
My friend Abbi – previously featured on this blog, though not by name, here and here – is in the hospital, and for the past week or so, I've thought of little else. I told her I lost 3 lbs in 3 days, and she said, "Hey, I've lost about 25 the past few months 😅" I said this is an unfair contest.
There's a passage in The Great Gatsby which makes me think of her. In the book, the narrator is talking about Gatsby's smile, but in Abbi's case I'm thinking about her conversation and personality.
It was one of those rare smiles with a quality of eternal reassurance in it, that you may come across four of five times in life. … It understood you just as far as you wanted to be understood, believed in you as you would like to believe in yourself, and assured you that it had precisely the impression of you that, at your best, you hoped to convey.
I don't know if other people who know her feel this way, but I really do.
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Blog note: Many of the blogs that were on my blogroll are no longer active: some have merely gone quiet, while others have been made private or disappeared altogether. I moved the inactive links to the sidebar of my CQA page. I didn't want to remove them altogether because it's nice to have this record – a bittersweet reminder of a time when blogging was more of a community activity.
It's fun having friends from different age groups; I think I'm lucky that way.
A few months ago I used the term core memory in a blogpost. Tommy, who is in his 60s and a former software engineer, commented, "I'm old enough to remember when 'core memory' was what computers had before semiconductor RAM."
Last week my friend Wu Chi asked me my MBTI type. I said I did the test five years ago, and can't remember what I got.
"Five years?! MBTI is that old?! Five years ago I was in high school!"
I looked up MBTI on Wikipedia, which said the Briggs Myers Type Indicator Handbook was published in 1944. Wu Chi had to take a few sips of yuzu soda to recover. "1944," she said wonderingly. "That's older than New China."
Three things which I do now, which I didn't do, say, 10 years ago (okay I was well into adulthood 10 years ago, but adulting is a work in progress):
Speaking of holidays, I just got back from a trip to the UK; I'll post some photos soon.
[Edit: Photos are now up.]
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Blog note: Last month I wrote 12 posts, which is a new record for this blog. Granted, some of them were photos with not that much text, but hey it all counts. The previous record was 11 posts in March 2011, and some of those were short extracts.
In my final post of 2023, I wrote that (a minimum of) 24 posts a year is a good number to aim for. With this post, I've already reached that number, and we're only in the first week of June. Time to treat myself, maybe :)
Ornate sunbird nest, now empty because the chicks have fledged.
The skin (technically exoskeleton) of a cicada. When a nymph matures, it crawls out of its skin which is then discarded.
Of all the things I've owned or used, a bike, to me, feels most like a person – like a friend, even.
The inscription on this bike, which I saw one night when walking back from Toa Payoh Public Library, made me smile. "Always be with you."
After banded arthropods, I now bring you banded snakes.
These pictures are from a night walk along Old Upper Thomson Road. I went with a few friends who are amateur herpers.
They are all quite good at spotting snakes, but one of them – a Thai guy who moved to Singapore some years ago – is particularly sharp-eyed. He spotted both snakes pictured in this post – this gold-ringed cat snake:
…as well as this twin-barred tree snake, which – like the paradise tree snake featured earlier – is a "flying" snake.
My friend Kwang Ik and I were sharing a camera – my camera, but with his lens, flash and diffuser. Moreover, one of us typically took the photo while the other held the off-camera flash and diffuser. At this point we don't really know who took which photo, and in any case it doesn't really matter. "Collaboration is the condition of photography in the most basic sense," as this book puts it. We decided to share credit, and also thanked the snakes.
