Seventh month is the month is Singapore where people remember the dead and give offerings. It is said that on the seventh lunar month, the gates of hell open and the ghosts are free to return and roam the earth. Also known as Zhong Yuan Jie 中元节.
This drawing is dedicated to my neighbour that sadly decided to leave this world at a young age.
I paste my artwork on the wall outside my house But you are not here to share it with me, when you walk down the corridor. Its the seventh month, but i can’t feel any ghosts, only light. I almost died But you actually died In all my years rooftopping i never fell. If it is a matter of luck, we could trade places. Maybe if my artwork had been on the wall sooner, we might have talked and said hello. I don’t understand, in my life i met so many people to help, But i didn’t know you. The Gods gave us different paths, even though we live on the same floor. Standing above a city of lights, I have landed. You have landed as well. Hopefully somewhere better. I will pray for you. This drawing is for us. You’re dead I’m alive. We can look at the lights of the city together From the floor we live on.
Thank you all for being here, you are all such a comfort to me. Sometimes i look through the drawings i do with difficult emotions. It is so very hard to talk about them but good to try, some artworks can’t really be explained well in words, i guess this is why they are artworks.
This artwork was done in winter, where i usually tend to have more melancholic and deeper reflection. It is a picture of God pulling me away from Death, whom i used to be close to. At least in this incarnation. We spent a lot of time in the underworld together. The moment of separation. While i am happy to be closer to God, everyone longs for their old friends.
I never really saw ghosts, more like demons and angels and deities. And many times when i was staying on my own, i saw a hooded figure in black by my bed. Not bad, just checking on me. It didn’t feel real until they brushed by the bed. The feel of the coarse black cloth of unearthly material was what really shook me to my senses. Apparently in a near death experience, my mother saw me reach out my hand and say someone was there. It was a golden figure of light. Someone was waiting to collect me. My energy moves so fast i always feel like a pile of stardust. I didn’t realise i could be collected. Until now. But thats a story for a different day.
This artwork is one of my abstracts. It features a silvery figure gazing into a black hole. The start of everything or the moving into the cosmos. It is surrounded by the veins of consciousness or the veins of the universe. Into the dark night of the soul we all step, then emerge. Done in Winter, time of contemplation.
One of my favourite drawings, the feeling came across so nicely. It is an incomplete drawing, but i stopped drawing it the minute i saw the face of Death. The artwork is myself and Death looking at souls in the underworld. It is like an old memory of this incarnation of Death looked like. I didnt touch it anymore because i was worried if i coloured in any of the drawing the sharpness of his features and expression and mine would be lost. It is appropriately a winter drawing. A time for cultivation.
A trip into the underworld, accompanied by God in a carriage. The carriage raced in the darkness through a sea of souls, and one must have startled the carriage horse. God looked out the window and calmed the situation, and we raced on our journey.