Click here and join us in our new domain...

Monday, 4 February 2013

Dear Brother

(p.s : first time writing the truth about myself)

Dear my little brother,

Today is your birthday. My little baby brother turning eight years old. Oh how I miss you.

We all live in a yellow submarine ~ This is your favourite song right now and I am proud of that. My eight years old brother is singing the Beatles with so much love and joy that would make John Lennon smile. You are now only a little boy with his two front tooth missing and I don't fully understand why I writing this to you when you cant even fully understand the concept of the Internet or any sensible comprehension of context of my dialogues. Though you did surprise me this year by actually having a simple conversation. Now don't be too hard on yourself, everyone in the world had a very vague memory of the early years, some only remember memories from age 8 and above. This memories remembrance will deteriorate by age, like me at the age of twenty-one right now could only recall the earliest memory i had was the first time when Daddy gave me the remote control for the TV when i was at the age of 8. So it is not my intention to make you feel bad for not being able to understand and have this conversation with me right now. In fact my main intention of writing this letter of electronic medium in order to preserve my thoughts that i wish to convey to you at this very moment and hope it would somehow find useful when you are old enough to read it.

It might be ten years from now when you read this. When you are perhaps 17 or earliest 15 is my estimation of your age as you're reading this. Perhaps even only when you are 20 or 30. I don't not know. The possibilities is vast and any reality is as real as the next. I might even be alive and sitting right next to you right now forcing you to read this. Haha. And if I am, please smack my head to for being a !@#$%^&*. Haha. I really cant imagine what is the situation you are right now as you read this. And forgive me for being all over the place because its rarely anyone ever wrote a letter to the future and i dont think anyone can really imagine the immense terror of talking to an idea of someone who doesn't exist yet. Anyway excuse my rambling, back to the topic of of my letter. I might be dead and you might be reading this voice of a ghost. All I really wanted to tell you right now is this, I love you my darling brother. I hate you as much as well.  I had been stuck with changing your diaper, cleaning after you and feeding you for almost 2 years. The two years where a teenager boy should focus on his highschool work and chicks to date but no not this boy. I was forced to take care of you. Unsurprisingly I slowly decline in my performance in school and became a anti-social dreamer. And guess what my dear Nadzir Farhan, I am very very very happy i did that. I learn a lot by taking care of you and if it wasnt for you i dont know who i would be today.

You see, i was a very suicidal emo-freak writer wanna be during the two years i was taking care of you. My anger towards you was immense and i don't know why. I hated myself for hating you for it was never your fault that I was in such a predicament. I try to understand now and I guess it was bound to happen. I was a  dreamer pampered by being the youngest. I always wanted an older brother to help me out. And then you came. I had to be a big brother for you when I, myself was in need of an older brother. This was when i was twelve and thirteen, gosh that is cute though to think back. The two years i took care of you, if you are wondering, i was only 16 and 17 yrs old. The two years I was mainly absent from school and lied to everyone I was either house arrest for punching someone or going on travels with super rich kids. The years that determined my final highschool exams and determine whether I get into a good college, though I hate the idea of our Education System now back then all I wanted was to get a scholarship because our parents were in no finacial stability. But I sacrificed it all for you. I had to. You were only four. i was teaching you to walk and swim and stuff. Your parents were nowhere to be found. Dad was away in Vietnam being a pimp for his boss while Mom was hooked up on ICE partying every night and your sweet sister was in first year of collage away in her hostel. No way could I leave you alone at home with mom who woke up angry with a hangover. Of course now our family gotten better with time and maturity. But back then everything was falling apart. You are my baby brother, you were the gift that mommy and daddy been trying for so long but as soon as you were born they were gone. Now it wasnt your fault for being born at such a bad timing. The economy crisis of the world hit our family hard, dad lost his job and had to do anything to suck up to his new boss. Mom with dad absent from home fell into her mid-life crisis. It was all too much for such a young toddler like you. Violence was a common scenario back then. I was already old enough to suck it but you, you who were so young who cant even utter a full sentences yet was too vulnerable. I did what any brother would have done and try to protect you as much as I could even though I stupidly blame you for it all. I was young, forgive me brother for my foolishness.

 I wasn't exactly a good brother for you, most of the time i was trying to kill myself. I do not know how many times you stop me from my suicidal tendencies. It got very annoying after awhile and I quit trying to kill myself. Funny, you were always trying to save me. And then torture me slowly with your tears. Then something happened, I when away for national service. It was military training and all those other Babylonian preachings of War and Consumerism stuff. It was there when i truly first felt the meaning of missing someone you love, strangely it wasn't the girls but my very own brother. I don't know why i nearly broke down and cry that one night thinking of you. I realize that very night, i may no longer care about my life and frustrated with the universe on the fucking society's ignorance to the true beauty around them but i cant give up and watch the world burn. No i cant do that just yet. I got my brother to care about. I love you and i cant let you live in a world that is fucked up all by yourself. If i don't succeed in anything else in my entire life but to just ensure my little brother a better life then i would be happy enough. That was the reason why i stop  being suicidal and try to achieve something with my life. You, my little brother gave me a purpose and a reason to continue living.  From the moment i first touched your tiny little fingers when you first took your first breath on this mother earth, I knew that my entire life would be to ensure that you would have the Older Brother i wished i had.

But that's the big problem there. I don't know what a big brother should be. I don't know much about this family stuff and all. Ask me anything about death, i could answer but when it comes to a Loving Living Family i was lost. So i did what any lost soul would do, look for direction. Look and study their behaviours. After the army camp, i worked in a cafe. There i learn a meaning of Brotherliness from my supervisor and his younger barista brother. They were happy together but yet hated each other in the most opposite manner. But yet they got along, like yin and yang they were. There i got an understanding of the term brotherhood but i didn't exactly knew how to be like one of them. So i continue my search elsewhere. Odd jobs which only goal was to learn the term of Brother and not the cash incomes. Not exactly a very good way of finding a job is it. Father wasn't please with my endless bickering. I finally got a job in an industry i actually though i could do with no sweat. Film-making. Well technically i was just a casting director but i understood much about the industry and thought to myself there is art here but its too corrupted by the money minded agendas.

Here is where i found my first true lover, Jenny and also my first female best friend, Jasmin Rayhan. I wonder whatever happened to her. Jenny taught me how to love someone else though she was the one who mostly wearing the pants in the relationship but i guess thanks to her i now know what to do the next time I am in a relationship. Me and Jenny broke up for a mutual concern of my mental health. I was being too paranoid about her. But i guess at the same time, you could say that we both broke up for the mutual concern of each others heart. You see she was in a troubled relationship with another boy and i just got dumped by a girl i loved. We both were each other rebounds in a way. We both were the escaping from the world where we wear masks and play out our roles. And though love will find a way of overcoming the fear of another lose but I was in fear of karma and her bitchiness towards me recently and I lose her. A beautiful catch who was so much more beautiful inside that how she was slowly trying to show outside using all these beauty products promised by the Babylonians. I can only wish that she knew that she doesn't need all those products and could be dressed like a beggar and i would still be the first to steal a kiss from those lips. I wished she could only see her the way i did, that is all i wish to tell her.

Well that was the love side of the female interactions i had, here is someone who show me what the real meaning of having a girl as a best friend. Jasmin Rayhan. She is a lunatic who i wish i could just slap that annoying cheeks of her so that all the candy burst out of her lips as she reached for the fried chicken drumstick for a light sabre duel with me. She is perhaps one of the type of girl who literally can make you go crazy with the amount of happiness she has. Haha.. Gosh i miss her as well, we both went our separate ways  almost about the same time i broke up with Jenny. She had to make sure Jenny was doing good and since then we slowly lose contact of one another. Unfortunate but i guess that's life, one day we might see her again. We all miss her.

But the real reason why i am writing this letter to you my future brother, is because i wish to tell you the main impact of human interactions i had so far in my experience. I write you now because i don't not know how long more i would have involved with these great men of this generation and would have to make my own journey as how the did when they were at my age. These great men that i wish to introduce you to is the Gentlemen of Minut In it Studio Galleria.

The time drags their heels as the paint shimmers in the radiant lights showcasing each and every details of the precise craftsmanship of god gifted skills. The painting hangs quietly in its place accompanied by its fellow artworks, as the air purifier freshens up the air and the water dispenser bubbles away the tiredness of the hardworking men in a fresh hydrating gulp. The boy stands behind the rest of the men in silence as they stare in awe of the marvellous venue which they had created. They are the patrons of the arts, the fighters against censorship and discrimination, and the experimentalists of expression freedom. They are the men and the boy of Minut Init Studio Galleria. This is the story of the Tribe of Minut Init. 

I remembered it like it was just yesterday. There I was, an obnoxiously ignorant nineteen years old boy trying to figure out what the hell is going on in our present reality of the real world just like every other kid who just got out of the comfort of high school delusions. I was working as a casting director in a nearly bankrupt company for minimum wages just so I could chase my dreams of becoming a famous filmmaker, very romantic notion and I guess there was some sort of romance but let’s not talk about that tragic story because I rather not remember it. No, what I remembered was the very first time I met this funny looking man named Dali. It was just another day with the tropical sun shining outside in the vast sea of blue skies hiding behind the clouded blankets. Just another day in the office with another badge of hopeful actors and models coming into the studio wearing either too much make up or not enough clothes on them and sometimes both. Sometimes i wondered whether they even own a mirror but my favourite kind of hopeless souls are those who have the same blank facial expression when asked to act. God only knows how the cameras must have felt.

After taking some sweet time casting this Angelina Jolie look-a-like talent whom I kept calling to just have that alone moments with her, a scruffy looking bummer came interrupting my delusions. At first I was outraged at this hippy punk but after the beautiful lady stating that he was her friend, I deploy the usual tactics of ‘Get her friends to like me so she would be mine’. I had a good feeling that this man wasn’t in the right state of consciousness, wearing a freaking sun glasses in the studio which is curtained by his long messy hair that connects to his subtle signs of facial hairs along with his sandals. The way this dude dress and walk, he reminds me of The Dude in the movie The Big Lebowski. As soon as he spoke to introduce himself, I knew exactly that this is The Dude, El Duderino. His voice, his persona, his bad casting videos. You couldn’t find anyone more of The Dude than him and with a name such as Dali, you know he has travelled and transcendent into a world yet unfamiliar to me.   At first I was threatened by Dali, I mean fucking this guy. Such a cool dude with a cool name and a cool look. I mean sure he looks like a Shaggy from the cartoons but I bet many girls would love to have a Scooby Snack with him.

After that first initial encounter with him, I thought he would just fade away but sadly my penis was making most of the decisions and I kept giving his friend (the Angelina Jolie look-a-like) roles for commercials and unfortunately for me, I had to see this Dude again. After using him as an extra for a job, I realise I don’t hate him. I envy him. I wanted to be him. I wished I was him and weirdly enough I had the feeling he wished he was as young as me again. On 9th June 2011, during a commercial shoot with a bunch of kids around my age or younger alongside with this old man, he was giving me advices even though I only befriend him because my girl asked me to and his hot friend was on my mind. On that day, I celebrated my birthday a day early in an embarrassing style of classic public singings. I don’t know why when I was being tortured standing on that stool chair trying to croak some sort of sound that might considered as a song, I kept looking at him. Him and my lover of course but I can’t explain why I felt more comfortable looking at this old man for some word of encouragement rather than my girl. Maybe because my girl was one of those tormentors but something deep inside my heart told me that this old dude could help me out from any sort of trouble I have, that this old dude could teach and guide me properly. That day I think I found an older brother, something which I had always wanted in my life. A real man who could show me the meaning of being a true gentleman. Of course that feeling past after a few pints of lager but somehow fate had different plans. I saw him again after that day, on the streets in middle of the night. He was going for a breakfast, he just woke up. In middle of the night this dude just woke up from sleep and going for breakfast. Definitely not an ordinary person.

I do not know what he saw in me. I still can’t understand why he chosen me because honestly I never actually gave much thought about him but somehow he decided to give me a call on one fine day in late June.  It was perhaps one of the most important calls I ever answered in my life. You know how Harry had the letters from a magical school, or how Frodo first found the ring or even how Luke found a message stuck in a trash can, well this was my moment. Not very cinematic but hey that’s life. That one call from him was the catalyst of my life and alters the direction of my destiny. If I had not bothered to answer or even refused his offer, I wouldn’t be here talking about it and I would have been a completely different person today. It was a simple call, a call for help. He was asking for my skills with words, he wanted me to rewrite a few documents for a documentary proposal he was planning to execute. You see, I always love writing but it was mostly for my own amusements and every now and then I use it to con rich kids into paying me for writing their assignments but I never really thought anyone would actually read it but here is an old man asking this young boy to write such an important document. I was naturally excited. Hey, I mean if this old man liked it, then I must be really that good then maybe I could actually become a writer.  If I suck and this old man hates it then Bon Voyage, my Angelina Jolie... So I took his offer and tried my luck.

He picked me up from work that day to discuss the content of my task and took me this dodgy looking shop lot in Uptown Damansara, well honestly all the shop lots looks dodgy there. He guided me up three flights of dark stairs which got me thinking, ‘Where the fuck is this old man taking me? Am I going to get raped? Murdered? Nah its Dali. He is too pacifist and liberal for such a thing. Or maybe that was his disguise? Oh shit here I am in front of this white door, everything looks so dark in there. Maybe it’s not as bad as it would be. Pull yourself together dude, you got a Mohawk. You’re a punk head. You will fight any fucker who........HOLY SHIT! THIS PLACE IS SOooooo FUCKING COOL! Look at that painting! I never thought any Malaysian artist draws like this. Shit this is a gallery? I haven’t seen anything of that old bullshit traditional ideology of what they call art. This here is the real art. This is the voice of my generation. This is the true voice of the sons and daughters. I found Nirvana!’

That was my first reaction when I entered the Minut Init Studio Galleria. My life will never ever be the same again after that day. Here is a place that speaks the truth. No more can I enjoy the brain dead Medias that being shoved down my young generation’s throat with that K-pop and Bieber bullshits after knowing that these revolutionary artworks are available for me. Everything on display in the gallery was a feast for my eyes, my heart, my soul and my mind. From the abstract paintings to the gruesome metallic sculptures to the tiny TV that illuminates in the messy room. Everything was beautiful. It was chaotic but it was a Beautiful Chaos. The true embodiment of the rebellious youth. And that smell in the air, it is so potent and sweet. The air in the studio was a fresh familiar smell that allows my body to drift away with the immense beauty that surrounds me. For almost half an hour, you couldn’t find me sitting still on a single spot. I was in constant motion to ensure that every tiny details of the gallery are fully discovered by my wandering eyes. Han Solo had his Millennium Falcon, Captain Jack Sparrow had his Black Pearl, and Dali has Minut Init. That very same night I couldn’t sleep. I was writing everything he told me to and checking it twice to ensure perfection. Though I could not be satisfied but I wanted to do the best so I could to make him proud. I just wanted ensure that I was always welcome at the gallery.

I never really know what he thought about the proposal I wrote for him. I know he said there were things to amends and improve but I haven’t really followed up. Next thing I knew was that he going away to Melbourne. I was shattered. Just when I start to like him without a secret agenda, he was leaving. I thought to myself, ‘There goes my Nirvana.’ That is when he asked me a question I could never refuse, he didn’t even need to finish the sentence my lips was already saying ‘YES’ in every language on this planet. That is the day I became Dali’s personal assistant, that is day I became an apprentice for The Black Palate, that is the day I became a Padawan for these great Jedis. A young boy from the shire on a lonely planet finally getting his chance to travel outside his village and into the deepest star systems.

 A week later I quit my job to spend as much time as I could with my new found mentor. In fact, I have never been able to hold a job for too long ever since that day. Every day since then was a journey.  From late night brownie baking sessions on the floor of his kitchen to registering the business license. Even when he goes for his medical check up, I was there. Every moment and every single minute with him was filled with words of inspirations and dreams. He told me exactly what he expects from me. For a few weeks before he left, I had a real brother. An older brother who I respect and look up to. Can’t express to you my emotions about this dude because well I still finding the right words to describe it.

Now if you reading this and thinking you are reading a short story then I’m afraid it will disappoint you. You see I can’t write the story of Minut Init, well not yet. The adventure is still ongoing; we are barely at the climax of the plot. No this is just rants. This is just me sitting here in my boxer late at night smoking my pipe, telling you a vague perspective of my past year with these great men and I will barely scratch the surface of it. Now if you wanting a proper literature material of these events then you have to wait. For now, enjoy my ramblings. I got a lot more to say about Dali but since we are going with the flow of the story the next chapter is with the introduction of James Ly and Jon Sim.

Before I meet up with James and Jon, I was warned by Dali on how these guys will be very strict and going to teach me proper disciplines of hard works. I didn’t truly believe him but of course I didn’t dare to do anything stupid. The very first time I met James and Jon was in the studio, one fine evening in early July 2011.  I saw two dudes sitting on the dark blue sofa surrounding the small television, playing Winning 11 on the Playstation 2. One had an awesome long hair with beard of wisdom while the other was in his office attire. I thought to myself: This is not what I expected from Dali descriptions, nah he just scaring me to ensure I behave. I mean these guys are pretty cool, I bet if I met the younger versions of them we could have even been best of mates. 

Oh how naive I was. In many ways I was right about them. They are my type of guys who I would associates with but Dali was right as well. They will take no bullshits from me. Those excuses which I often use for most of my mistakes with other people will not work on them. These guys in many ways have been where I am and understand exactly the type of excuses I would give. So they know exactly how to counter attack my lame ass reasoning. Up to this day, I can’t give a single excuse which they cannot advice on and some of the excuses are sincere problems which with their response I actually learnt to fix it.

Now what can I tell you about James Ly from my times with him? I first felt the commanding power of this great warrior on my first exhibition experience. It was the mobile photography exhibition and Dali had just left me there with bunch of adults that I barely knew. I couldn’t really recall him asking me to clean the toilet a day before the exhibition but he was right, it was something I should have done without asking. In front of the visitors of the gallery, he forcefully ordered me to clean the toilet and like a sad little boy I did what I was told. It wasn’t the kind of experience you would want but it helps me to feel comfortable cleaning anything that was thrown to me afterwards and not to be embrassed about it. Ever since that day, I was always afraid of him. Not afraid in the sense of an evil dictator (maybe a bit when i first started) but rather afraid of disappointing him. I am not really the kind of person who cares much about disappointing myself because I really have low expectation from myself but if I disappoint James, I would disappoint Dali and if I disappoint the both of them, I would feel like shit. Now don’t get the wrong perception of James, he is not a sergeant who put high expectations on things, what he asks from me is pretty achievable if I wasn’t such a coward and a lazy bastard. If he is angry at me it is really my fault and I won’t bother giving an explanation to you for my behaviour anymore because I learn from them not to give excuses but rather prove that you have learnt from your mistakes. I know it may sounds like a simple thing to learn but you have to understand that I am just a horny little boy who making decisions with his penis, so there was less thinking done back then. He destroyed the illusion of know-it-all teenager and rebuilt a humble and educated man out of me.

 James Ly, the Thor Look-a-like Sifu of Aesthetic Excellence. James to me is the guru who shape me to become a real man. Pushing me further and harder, disciplining my mentality, increasing my philosophy and overall making a Man out of me. Though i do disappoints him more often that i wish. I sometimes wish to tell him how much i am learning from him but at same time i am pulled back by the laziness of my youth with the mindset that i have years more to go in my life before i have to take things seriously. But i guess i would still be wrong. Because just when you think you figure out how James really thinks, he would then make a statement that would shatter my understanding of his personality. He is very unique to learn from and I am honored to be his student.James is a well built man with a great passion for the beautiful game of Football which often seen in his strategies and plans. The way he reacts to new situations and crisis is like watching a talented Brazilian striker dribbling the ball with perfect balance and the right usage of footwork to reach his goal. It seems as if nothing can stop him from salsa dancing his way into the success. Fearless, fast and a great endurance to hard foul plays. Nevertheless he is not all about techniques and skills. He has something which many players in the game lacks, he has soul. He doesn’t see the ball as an object but rather a part of himself. He doesn’t just shoot for his own individual glory but rather for the nation’s dying hope. He is doing it for the love of the game. This is exactly what makes him so great and undefeatable in my perspective. He has become my mentor for how a real macho gentleman should be.

Confident, Intelligent, Artistic and I’m pretty sure he has a romantic side as well. He is what every woman craves for in a man. James Ly and James Bond are my guidance to becoming a real man. In addition he is very knowledgeable in other cultures that I have always fascinated with, which helps me learn things I have been dying to know. And he has done things I only dream of doing. I wouldn’t ask for anyone else to be my teacher. You want to know what’s the best part of knowing James? You idiots pay thousands of your parents hard earn cash or the government loans for a class with him in college which I bet some of you don’t even pay attention to while I have lessons with him for free! So what if I don’t have certificates of diploma and degree? What I learn from him can’t be found in your papered qualifications. Now enough of butt kissing and let’s talk about Jon.

Jon Sim Hua is in my point of view the business man of the gallery. He is the one ensuring the cash flows and though I never really had the chance to learn much from him but his personality of keeping tracks on the expenses do impact my own financials managements. Of course I am still struggling with it but he will always be there for me to ask for advices on this matter. Jon is not what he looks like. At first, I thought he would be boring money minded banker but damn he is funny. He has the sort of personality that you can’t stereotype. A simple normal Joe but yet extraordinary. He is not the kind of person you would just forget in a day or two. He has a unique impact and adds spice in simple conversations with his quirky down to earth statements. He is the guy who glues reality back to the dreams and ambitions of James plans. Not in the sense of destroying the fantasy but rather finding a logical and executable methods of making the dreams come true. All that with a manageable budget and investments. There isn’t as much events of the past year with him that I could truly recall because mostly it’s in the discussions and talks that the group has and you don’t expect me to remember word for word of every conversation in the studio. Nevertheless his words do still resonate in my head every now and then.

The next teacher I had in the brotherhood of LepalaiseEnNoir has to be great shaman Haziman. The first time I truly notice Haziman was during the Tahi Cicak, a black and white film photography exhibition. The one thing that made him stand out from the crowd of adults pouring in to my life during these times was his helmet. I don’t know why but that dirt bike helmet was the first thing I can recall about him maybe because I love to play around with it when I’m alone. You know playing pretends. I pretended to be some extreme daredevil with it thousands of times jumping onto the sofa as if I was in a crash. You know kiddish stuff. Anyways, Haziman stands out best when he playing some sort of musical instrument either the traditional Indian drums or the Aborigine long wooden flute thingy (I still haven’t learn the name of it, too much motorbike accident with that helmet I guess) . Every time he is playing a rhythm you could feel the majestic soul of his passion. It is hypnotic to watch him play, the music just flows out of him naturally. It is the nearest spiritual ritual that exalts my understandings that I have experienced so far.  My memory of him is often shirtless because well that is how he is most of the time in the studio. He would often jump around doing his Muay Thai exercises while his single dreadlock dancing with the movements. The best analogy to describe him is a wild horse that was born to roam freely in the open lands of Mother Earth. Haziman is one of my favourite brothers in the studio for one tiny little fact, he is that brother who loves to bully you by giving you the knuckle to the head while you squirming around to fight back but of course failed miserably. It was because of him that I managed to work for a while in Langkawi. Though it was for a short period but I learnt a lot about myself and had loads of good memories staring at beautiful tourists. One thing I surely learn there was that penis overrules any decisions you made and that no matter how much I hate the city, I needed it to write.

The next Brother who plays an important role in the TBP brotherhood is Nahoy Yohan. I met him right after I return from Langkawi during the Creole Exhibition set ups. The first time I saw him, I was confused.  Here is a guy who looks so happy and cuddly like a teddy bear but the words that comes out of his mouth is what you would only expect to hear from the hustla in the ghettos. In fact I think the best way to describe him in my view is by stating that Yohan is the original Seth MacFarlane’s TED. Every time I see him, I see a giant teddy bear that pointing middle finger and dropping F-bombs and many other gangsta slangs and don’t even bother trying to give this teddy a hug unless you want a magnum colt shoved up your butt. At first I couldn’t understand the jokes he was saying and sometimes finds it a little vulgar but nowadays I can’t stop laughing at every word that he utters. And the songs he plays, well it really does grow on you. Even as I write this, my house is echoed by the playlist copied from his laptop. Funny a few months ago I wouldn’t bother listening to these genres but now all I wanna be is that Pretty Muthafuka hustling my way to the Pyramids to listen to these bitches singing how much they crave that Pilot Jones.  Gotta to buckle up nigga! Gotta do it PROPER, aye! SMOKING MARILYN MONROE~

Another brother of The Black Palate is the upbeat Alet. The most rockstar among the brothers and the life for any conversation. A party or an opening wouldn’t be complete without him. I first met him at the Tinpix exhibition; he was there to comment on James ordering me to wash the toilet. If I’m not mistaken he tried to help me out of the trouble. He is perhaps one of the busiest among the brotherhood; nevertheless he will never miss a single exhibition opening and occasionally finds the time to visit the studio. He is like the brother in the family that you could only meet on festive celebrations to ensure that the family dinner doesn’t die of silence. 

Now who next for me to mention in the brotherhood? How about Putt? I met Putt one fine morning on mid of 2012. I was coming over to clean up the gallery and here was a dude sleeping soundlessly. I am quite used to seeing people sleeping at the studio. I mean Haziman slept over here before and so did I. Not to forget James’s friends Mihao, European teacher in China and Julie from France have slept over at the studio too. I even gave them a tour of KL city.  Minut Init is a second home for the brotherhood. Anyways back to Putt, the first time I met him, I spent hours of listening to his stories of backpacking and hitchhiking almost everywhere. He shared his experiences in the most peaceful place on earth of Bhutan, the gypsy community of Christiana and many more. I was awed by his travels which only add the burning desire for the same sort of adventure.

Of course the other guys, I have met in the gallery also have such travel stories, example the Tahi Cicak group of Lan, Basil and more travelled to Kathmandu, another destination for me to visit but the delivery of Putt adventures were so vivid to the point I could imagine being there. Since I mentioned Basil it is perhaps a crime to not state the amazing musical selections he has as a DJ with his dreadlocks that is unforgettable. I could spend hours just listening to him practice with the turntables in the studio.

Now looking back at this, there is still a lot more people I haven’t mention like the smooth talking Ben Ly, the messenger of good news Quek or the artist side of the gallery such as the eccentric Mils Gan, the sweet Jackie Gomez and many more. I am sure there is a lot more I would love to rant about. There is so much to record for the history of the gallery. My adventure in this amazing place is barely even at its greatest height. There is so much to tell you people about this nirvana of mine but for now I will end this rambling with a simple promise. A promise that one day, the greatest untold stories of The Black Palate Brotherhood in Minut Init Studio Galleria will be fully written with far better story telling than my little rants.  

So my little brother, one day when you are older I hope everything I have learnt from them would be passed onto you. I wrote this letter to remind you and myself that the brother I shall be for you is because of the countless older brothers I had from my experience with the Minut Init Men.

No comments:

Post a Comment