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2009-02-15 6:30AM / 標準BLOG / 會員可以看

thank you to dave, the artists that signed my book and those that came out to the secret headquarters last night. i had fun meeting you all and it was an honour and pleasure to doodle in your books.

photo courtesy of amanda of erratic phenomena. notice the kirin beer? haha.

photos courtesy of jacob covey's photostream.

the first edition hardcovers of beasts! 2 are almost all gone everywhere. for those of you that can still find it, this is a beautifully designed and executed book and it really is worth getting your hands on one.
if i'm not mistaken fantagraphics is already looking into a second printing. i hear the first edition of the first beasts! book is already a hundred bucks on ebay.

~

i was really hoping to catch the nba dunk competition tonight, but alas, all work and no tv makes tessar a boy who will instead, be at:

for those of you without big valentine's day plans.. im lucky to have a piece in the show and we should be having a great time- hope to see some friends tonight, come and say hi!

erika, big kisses and long hugs, happy valentine's day! <3

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Tessar Lo

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i was born in indonesia. ...
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i was born in indonesia.
in 1989, my parents brought me to canada.

soyez amoureuses, vous serez heureuse.
d'où venons-nous? qui sommes-nous? où allons-nous?

I stopped and turned to look behind me. The slope twisted palely down toward the town like the tracks of some gigantic insect. I looked up at the sky then, under the moonlight, and glanced at my palm. With a rush of understanding I knew this wasn’t my hand anymore. I can’t explain it. But at a glance I knew. My hand was no longer my hand, my legs no longer my legs.

Bathed in the pallid moonlight, my body, like some plaster puppet, had lost all living warmth. As if a voodoo magician had put a spell on me, blowing my transient life into this lump of clay. The spark of life had vanished. My real life had fallen asleep somewhere, and a faceless someone was stuffing it in a suitcase, about to leave.

An awful chill swept through me and I felt choked. Someone had rearranged my cells, untied the threads that held my mind together. I couldn’t think straight. All I was able to do was retreat as fast as I could to my usual place of refuge. I took a huge breath, sinking in the sea of consciousness to the very bottom. Pushing aside the heavy water I plunged down quickly and grabbed a huge rock there with both arms. The water crushed my eardrums. I squeezed my eyes tightly closed, held my breath, resisting. Once I made up my mind, it wasn’t that difficult. I grew used to it all – the water pressure, the lack of air, the freezing darkness, the signals the chaos emitted. It was something I’d mastered again and again as a child.

Time reversed itself, looped back, collapsed, reordered itself. The worlds stretched out endlessly – and yet was defined and limited. Sharp images – just the images alone—passed down dark corridors, like jellyfish, like souls adrift. But I steeled myself not to look at them. If I acknowledged them, even a little they would envelop themselves in meaning. Meaning was fixed to the temporal, and the temporal was trying to force me to rise to the surface. I shut my mind tight to it all, waiting for the procession to pass.

How long I remained that way, I don’t know. When I bobbed to the surface, opened my eyes, and took a silent breath, the music had already stopped. The enigmatic performance was finished. I listened carefully. I couldn’t hear a thing. Absolutely nothing. No music, no people’s voices, no rustle of the wind.

-excerpt, Sputnik Sweetheart, Haruki Murakami

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職業: 畫家 , 作家 , 動物訓練師
性別: 男
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