he said she said and SDCC.

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he said she said and SDCC.
2008-07-24 6:59AM / 新聞 / 會員可以看

i made two editions of a two-colour gocco print titled, 'he said she said'
they are 4.25 x 5.5" each. i will be bringing them to san diego comic con and they will be available for purchase at the munky king booth, just ask for them if i am not there.

but i will be there on thursday afternoon, from 2:30 to 4:30pm signing my kirin print for the upcoming beasts! 2 book; you can also pick up the prints then. everything was cut, printed, signed and numbered by yours truly. they are bagged with some of my new postcards- so you can feel secure about keeping them nice and clean.

the summer edition will only be available at comic con, and will be $25. the winter edition will be $20, but please email me with, 'he said she said' in the subject line if you'd like me to hold one for you before i bring them to comic con.
though it's hard to see here, the winter edition's turquoise colour has a shimmer in it. it's my tribute to the time i came to toronto, canada: february 1989.

he said she said; summer edition- two-colour gocco on paper, edition of 50.

he said she said; winter edition- two colour gocco on paper, edition of 89.

thank you all for the support, and i hope to meet some of you on thursday or over the weekend. have fun at SDCC!!

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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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