Aporia/
2025
[02]
I would first like to begin by sharing that there is absolutely no parable or adage to this tale.
I am simply fearful where crow lurks.
This is a tale that is less than fascinating. I have neither been chased nor attacked by any crow.
It is simply an inane story without a discernible source.
Still, I cannot help but wonder if there could possibly be some reason, buried deep within the labyrinth of time, that could be the source of this inexplicable unease.
[03]
Perhaps this fear first began with my encounter with a reading on crows and their unsettling intelligence–––crows possess the ability to recognise faces.
Since then, I could not help but entertain the unsettling notion that I may have unwittingly enraged one by some strange twist of fate.
My fear of transgression with crows has since stuck with me without any resolution to this day, alongside the sharp, unyielding cawing of the crows that continues to terrify me.
This is a tale I fear I may never get a chance to recount elsewhere, for fear of possibly transgressing upon the crow’s inscrutable order.
An insular world where the sun still rises.
But it is no longer the same sun.
2025
Exploring the paradox of blue – a colour that is associated with grief despite its relatively recent emergence in the history of human language – the photographic series "Aporia presents landscapes that delve into the subconscious, a domain that exists beyond the defined limits of our knowledge as shaped by language.
Obeying the ever-fluid logic of the dream realm, detached from the anchors of one’waking life. These landscape highlights the parameter defining this third realm that is reminiscent of Marc Augé's "non-places"—spaces devoid of relational, historical, or identity-based anchors. The landscapes, rendered in blue, represent a purge from the artificiality of modern life and aims to provide emotional resonance that challenges our traditional understanding and perception of blue as a colour, highlighting its fluidity. By depicting the subconscious as untainted land, I aim to provide a renewed perspective on blue and the spaces that we inhabit internally.
The photographic series is also accompanied by a series of personal reflection that captures the artist’s lingering thoughts and fears, blurring the lines between waking life and the dreamlike terrain of the subconscious.
[02]
I would first like to begin by sharing that there is absolutely no parable or adage to this tale.
I am simply fearful where crow lurks.
This is a tale that is less than fascinating. I have neither been chased nor attacked by any crow.
It is simply an inane story without a discernible source.
Still, I cannot help but wonder if there could possibly be some reason, buried deep within the labyrinth of time, that could be the source of this inexplicable unease.
[03]
Perhaps this fear first began with my encounter with a reading on crows and their unsettling intelligence–––crows possess the ability to recognise faces.
Since then, I could not help but entertain the unsettling notion that I may have unwittingly enraged one by some strange twist of fate.
My fear of transgression with crows has since stuck with me without any resolution to this day, alongside the sharp, unyielding cawing of the crows that continues to terrify me.
This is a tale I fear I may never get a chance to recount elsewhere, for fear of possibly transgressing upon the crow’s inscrutable order.