This week was intense. These are various photos that reflect my collisions with found objects, juxtapositions, urban conditions, and pieces of Americana. My visit to URBANUS revealed how the contemporary architect acts within this realm.
Friday, February 09, 2007
Saturday, February 03, 2007
Days 5 and 6
Farewell at the Guyana Embassy
Beijing is a city of transcience. We attended a farewell pot-luck for Sam and JJ and their family. They are leaving for Perth after living here for 12 years. They were a big part of the BCIF church community here, starting when they were just students.
New address!
I found an apartment in the Shuangjing Area of Chaoyang, just south of the Business District. It's a brand new development, and most of the area is still a construction site.
Farewell at the Guyana Embassy
Beijing is a city of transcience. We attended a farewell pot-luck for Sam and JJ and their family. They are leaving for Perth after living here for 12 years. They were a big part of the BCIF church community here, starting when they were just students.
New address!
I found an apartment in the Shuangjing Area of Chaoyang, just south of the Business District. It's a brand new development, and most of the area is still a construction site.
Friday, February 02, 2007
Tuesday, January 30, 2007
Monday, January 29, 2007
Beijing
I was a part of a huge flock of people, almost all Mandarin-speaking Chinese, returning to the homeland on a 14 hour direct flight from Toronto. There was a time in the not-to-distant past when it took months to travel to the Orient, but now, we can be transported from one side of the world to the other in mere hours. Over the Arctic, no less. In any other age, this would have been simply remarkable.
We represented the nomads of modern life. Some were pilgrims going back to celebrate the New Year with family. There were mothers tightly holding on to their babies. Curiously, there were also a handful of Caucasians in this sea of yellow people, perhaps feeling that they’ve arrived in China even before the plane had taken off.
I arrived in Beijing in the early afternoon. The air was clear and the wind only bitter when it was gusting. I noticed the billboards along the sides of the boulevards- of Chinese banks and development corporations, of cell phone and camera companies, and Western oddities like Kohler and Sports Illustrated.
My two suitcases made noise as I rolled them down the textured brick sidewalk. People largely kept to themselves- anonymous bicyclists and motorists shared the giant streets while pedestrians walked without the typical speed that usually accompanies urban life.
I’ve decided to remain here in the city for the next little while to find a place to stay, perhaps even a renovated hutong. Hutongs are old courtyard houses in the center of the city. While many are being erased to favor large, denser developments, some neighborhoods still have retained their distinct character. Hopefully, I can find one with affordable rent.
I was a part of a huge flock of people, almost all Mandarin-speaking Chinese, returning to the homeland on a 14 hour direct flight from Toronto. There was a time in the not-to-distant past when it took months to travel to the Orient, but now, we can be transported from one side of the world to the other in mere hours. Over the Arctic, no less. In any other age, this would have been simply remarkable.
We represented the nomads of modern life. Some were pilgrims going back to celebrate the New Year with family. There were mothers tightly holding on to their babies. Curiously, there were also a handful of Caucasians in this sea of yellow people, perhaps feeling that they’ve arrived in China even before the plane had taken off.
I arrived in Beijing in the early afternoon. The air was clear and the wind only bitter when it was gusting. I noticed the billboards along the sides of the boulevards- of Chinese banks and development corporations, of cell phone and camera companies, and Western oddities like Kohler and Sports Illustrated.
My two suitcases made noise as I rolled them down the textured brick sidewalk. People largely kept to themselves- anonymous bicyclists and motorists shared the giant streets while pedestrians walked without the typical speed that usually accompanies urban life.
I’ve decided to remain here in the city for the next little while to find a place to stay, perhaps even a renovated hutong. Hutongs are old courtyard houses in the center of the city. While many are being erased to favor large, denser developments, some neighborhoods still have retained their distinct character. Hopefully, I can find one with affordable rent.
Monday, January 22, 2007
New Website!
I just redesigned my website from the ground up! (update: fixed some bugs..)
http://www.joekan.com
I just redesigned my website from the ground up! (update: fixed some bugs..)
http://www.joekan.com
Wednesday, January 17, 2007
How to enjoy Toronto with just one subway ticket.
I made a discovery today while using the public transportation here in TO. Normally, to take a bus after leaving the subway, you need a transfer from the subway. It often has a time expiry, and it can only be used to transfer onto a bus. In other words, you can't return into the subway with that same piece of paper. That's why round-trips would require two tickets.
Here in Toronto, however, I discovered a gaping loophole. You can use these transfers to board the streetcars outside. And, if you take these to the end, they enter right back into the subway system. Then, you could get another transfer and keep on leaving and entering the subway! So, with a very strategic itinerary (and a shameless disregard for the rules) you theoretically could tour downtown Toronto for the whole day on just $2.75!
I made another discovery just now: I realize I have way too much free time...
Monday, January 15, 2007
View of the bridge over Lake Pontchartrain
Lessons from Waveland
The air was filled with drywall dust, and the trailer was resonating drum beats from classic rock blaring out of the radio. I lifted my heavy steel knife from the mud bucket and plastered the inside corner of newly- hung drywall with thick white mud. A big glob fell back down to the floor, and I hung my head in despair.
It was day two of our missions trip, and I was becoming increasing frustrated. There were just too many questions on my mind. Why were we put here, and not on a more interesting project? Why are we restoring a trailer that is so claustrophobic and so poorly constructed? Why isn’t the owner coming to visit us? And why weren’t we left instructions on what to do? Perhaps we were doing it all wrong. Perhaps we were doing things twice. This whole project seemed pointless to me, and I felt totally useless.
Our team of three had flown 3500 km to a point on the Gulf coast that was once a pristine cottage town. A place where the wealthy of New Orleans would spend their weekends to relax at their beachside mansions. Where there was a collective of artist studios and swanky restaurants. Where there was a vibrant shrimping and fishing community.
This solitude was rarely interrupted during its 300 year history. Sure, there were hurricanes. But none were as big as in the summer of 2005, when Hurricane Katrina hit. Bay St. Louis and Waveland were at the worst possible location, right on the westerly side of the eye wall where the winds were the fiercest. During the storm, the 30-foot storm surge literally erased these two towns. Hundreds of homes were forced off their foundations. The lucky homes that weren’t destroyed by the impact of the waves were irreversibly damaged by the flood waters. Whole swaths of vegetation were killed. Stories and memories that were built up over generations were lost forever.
We were now here, a year and a half later, witnessing a community that had just begun the process of healing. Familiar fast food restaurants and big box stores were popping up on I-90. New houses were being constructed, some on stilts. Contractors had put up signs at every intersection, hoping to draw business from hurricane victims.
Physically, most of the area was still heavily damaged. The coastline was still empty- its piers reduced to skeletons, its sandy beaches devoid of tourists. The only inhabitants on the beaches were crawfish several feet into the ground and evidenced only by curious dots in the sand.
And the social consequences were still being felt. Many families were still living in temporary white trailers, provided by the government. The governments handouts were running out, and many people had lost hope or a will to move forward.
We went back home that day having accomplished very little. We had realized that we had to correct some of the shoddy work that was done earlier. I brought my frustrations to dinner, and that night, we met two people that would change the direction of our missions trip.
Dick and Maggie were a retired couple from Wisconsin who were also here to drywall. They were actually the ones who had gave the church the kits needed to do the drywall work. They were both retired teachers who had a heart for the suffering. They extended a spirit of generosity and love to everyone they met.
During that dinner, we enthusiastically talked about some of the problems of the church’s efforts at reconstruction. We talked about Canadian culture, and about US politics. We learned about how the Casino might buy up the entire coastline and how hurricane victims have been unable to get money from their insurance companies. It was strange how easy it was to talk to them, and how interested they were in listening to us.
Dick came by our site the next day, in his tattered Oshkosh overalls, and taught us basic drywall techniques. Filling the gaps and joints required several coats of mud. One firm sweep of the drywall knife was all that was needed. By letting it dry, and then slowly building up the mud layer by layer over the course of several days, a smooth surface could be created. Drywalling requires much patience and work that may seem visibly fruitless allows the next step to become easier. So on that day, our aimless jabs turned into purposeful strokes. We became eager apprentices to an experienced master, who was willing to teach us everything he knew.
The story could have simply ended there, but God had something else in mind. The next day, I saw Maggie and Pastor Dave wrapped in an intense emotional conversation at the breakfast table. I thought that perhaps Maggie wanted to talk to the pastor about Jesus, but we later learned that it was more than that.
The night before, at Benigno’s restaurant, they had some conversations with some of the new students at the camp. What started off as an innocent spiritual conversation ended with Dick and Maggie leaving the restaurant in tears. There were some words uttered that night that caused so much pain that they decided to pack up early and leave Waveland.
So that morning, I was simply heartbroken. I was actually looking forward to learning more from Dick, and strengthening the relationship that we had with them, which was still very green at the time. I went over to the trailer that they were staying at. Their van was out front, with all the doors open- ready to receive their luggage. Inside, they happened to be talking to the pastor, faces red with tears, and I basically told them how sad I was that this happened, and that I was so grateful that I met them because I finally felt that I was given some direction.
Later that day, Dick unexpectedly came to our trailer. He said that they were able to sort things out, and that in fact my awkward words had come at the most appropriate time. He had been explaining to the pastor how they felt that the groups needed more direction, and here I was talking about Dick leading me along the right path!
The couple continued to bless us that week. They set us up an appointment to see a local historian- Charles Gray- who gave the most spirited history lesson I have ever heard. They also introduced us to Ruth- a ceramic artist, and Deborah- a jewelry designer who designed for Hollywood. In fact, that afternoon, we were lucky enough to go to visit Deborah’s Creole-styled cottage and help her with assembling the bed, and putting down plywood boards in the attic. She thanked us by giving us custom designed earrings for “the women in our lives.”
So, at the end of this trip, the big question is- what did I hear from God? I think He was telling me about what the kingdom of heaven is like. It’s alot like drywalling. It takes patience, and one might not see the results at first. In fact, there might be alot of heartache and pain. But layer by layer, the cracks and the deformations, the imperfections and the holes start becoming filled up. And the end result- after a whole week’s work- is a beautiful seamless creation.
Lessons from Waveland
The air was filled with drywall dust, and the trailer was resonating drum beats from classic rock blaring out of the radio. I lifted my heavy steel knife from the mud bucket and plastered the inside corner of newly- hung drywall with thick white mud. A big glob fell back down to the floor, and I hung my head in despair.
It was day two of our missions trip, and I was becoming increasing frustrated. There were just too many questions on my mind. Why were we put here, and not on a more interesting project? Why are we restoring a trailer that is so claustrophobic and so poorly constructed? Why isn’t the owner coming to visit us? And why weren’t we left instructions on what to do? Perhaps we were doing it all wrong. Perhaps we were doing things twice. This whole project seemed pointless to me, and I felt totally useless.
Our team of three had flown 3500 km to a point on the Gulf coast that was once a pristine cottage town. A place where the wealthy of New Orleans would spend their weekends to relax at their beachside mansions. Where there was a collective of artist studios and swanky restaurants. Where there was a vibrant shrimping and fishing community.
This solitude was rarely interrupted during its 300 year history. Sure, there were hurricanes. But none were as big as in the summer of 2005, when Hurricane Katrina hit. Bay St. Louis and Waveland were at the worst possible location, right on the westerly side of the eye wall where the winds were the fiercest. During the storm, the 30-foot storm surge literally erased these two towns. Hundreds of homes were forced off their foundations. The lucky homes that weren’t destroyed by the impact of the waves were irreversibly damaged by the flood waters. Whole swaths of vegetation were killed. Stories and memories that were built up over generations were lost forever.
We were now here, a year and a half later, witnessing a community that had just begun the process of healing. Familiar fast food restaurants and big box stores were popping up on I-90. New houses were being constructed, some on stilts. Contractors had put up signs at every intersection, hoping to draw business from hurricane victims.
Physically, most of the area was still heavily damaged. The coastline was still empty- its piers reduced to skeletons, its sandy beaches devoid of tourists. The only inhabitants on the beaches were crawfish several feet into the ground and evidenced only by curious dots in the sand.
And the social consequences were still being felt. Many families were still living in temporary white trailers, provided by the government. The governments handouts were running out, and many people had lost hope or a will to move forward.
We went back home that day having accomplished very little. We had realized that we had to correct some of the shoddy work that was done earlier. I brought my frustrations to dinner, and that night, we met two people that would change the direction of our missions trip.
Dick and Maggie were a retired couple from Wisconsin who were also here to drywall. They were actually the ones who had gave the church the kits needed to do the drywall work. They were both retired teachers who had a heart for the suffering. They extended a spirit of generosity and love to everyone they met.
During that dinner, we enthusiastically talked about some of the problems of the church’s efforts at reconstruction. We talked about Canadian culture, and about US politics. We learned about how the Casino might buy up the entire coastline and how hurricane victims have been unable to get money from their insurance companies. It was strange how easy it was to talk to them, and how interested they were in listening to us.
Dick came by our site the next day, in his tattered Oshkosh overalls, and taught us basic drywall techniques. Filling the gaps and joints required several coats of mud. One firm sweep of the drywall knife was all that was needed. By letting it dry, and then slowly building up the mud layer by layer over the course of several days, a smooth surface could be created. Drywalling requires much patience and work that may seem visibly fruitless allows the next step to become easier. So on that day, our aimless jabs turned into purposeful strokes. We became eager apprentices to an experienced master, who was willing to teach us everything he knew.
The story could have simply ended there, but God had something else in mind. The next day, I saw Maggie and Pastor Dave wrapped in an intense emotional conversation at the breakfast table. I thought that perhaps Maggie wanted to talk to the pastor about Jesus, but we later learned that it was more than that.
The night before, at Benigno’s restaurant, they had some conversations with some of the new students at the camp. What started off as an innocent spiritual conversation ended with Dick and Maggie leaving the restaurant in tears. There were some words uttered that night that caused so much pain that they decided to pack up early and leave Waveland.
So that morning, I was simply heartbroken. I was actually looking forward to learning more from Dick, and strengthening the relationship that we had with them, which was still very green at the time. I went over to the trailer that they were staying at. Their van was out front, with all the doors open- ready to receive their luggage. Inside, they happened to be talking to the pastor, faces red with tears, and I basically told them how sad I was that this happened, and that I was so grateful that I met them because I finally felt that I was given some direction.
Later that day, Dick unexpectedly came to our trailer. He said that they were able to sort things out, and that in fact my awkward words had come at the most appropriate time. He had been explaining to the pastor how they felt that the groups needed more direction, and here I was talking about Dick leading me along the right path!
The couple continued to bless us that week. They set us up an appointment to see a local historian- Charles Gray- who gave the most spirited history lesson I have ever heard. They also introduced us to Ruth- a ceramic artist, and Deborah- a jewelry designer who designed for Hollywood. In fact, that afternoon, we were lucky enough to go to visit Deborah’s Creole-styled cottage and help her with assembling the bed, and putting down plywood boards in the attic. She thanked us by giving us custom designed earrings for “the women in our lives.”
So, at the end of this trip, the big question is- what did I hear from God? I think He was telling me about what the kingdom of heaven is like. It’s alot like drywalling. It takes patience, and one might not see the results at first. In fact, there might be alot of heartache and pain. But layer by layer, the cracks and the deformations, the imperfections and the holes start becoming filled up. And the end result- after a whole week’s work- is a beautiful seamless creation.
Friday, January 12, 2007
Last days at Waveland
I will be heading back to Toronto, after a week of hard and dirty work. Here are some new pictures, weird and wacky.
The makers of Budweiser also provide free drinking water for us.
This house remarkably stands despite the entire first floor being skewed from the impact of the waves, which reached as high as 50 feet.
The results of a crab and crawfish dinner at a local restaurant.
" i will shoot to kill theavs"
One of our trucks, stuck in the ditch. We managed to jack it up and bring it back to solid ground.
I will be heading back to Toronto, after a week of hard and dirty work. Here are some new pictures, weird and wacky.
The makers of Budweiser also provide free drinking water for us.
This house remarkably stands despite the entire first floor being skewed from the impact of the waves, which reached as high as 50 feet.
The results of a crab and crawfish dinner at a local restaurant.
" i will shoot to kill theavs"
One of our trucks, stuck in the ditch. We managed to jack it up and bring it back to solid ground.
Wednesday, January 10, 2007
Drywalling in Waveland
The trailer we're working on.
Unfinished walls.
The coast at low tide.
The historical society, which has some amazing photographs of Waveland's houses before Katrina.
It's been a pretty busy week so far, and I'm just squeezing in some time in to blog. We've been working only on one project- a trailer home that was salvaged from the storm. Our mission has been to drywall the interior so that the family can move in by the end of the month.
The trailer itself is owned by a Katrina survivor- single mom with three kids. When we first arrived, we found a site littered with old toys and debris. When we got inside, it was much of the same. The previous group had already done most of the drywalling. Pastor Dave, Enoch, and myself- we jumped in without any direction, and with limited drywall experience (Pastor Dave had done some before).
After two days of working from 8am to 4:30pm, I became frustrated. Working with drywall compound was messy. We had no idea what level of finish was required, or even whether or not we had to redo some of the poor drywall work. I questioned the job itself because we never met the owner, and the trailer itself was not a beautiful building. The walls were poorly constructed, the ceiling was discolored, there was hardly any space to live- especially for a family of four.
My hope is that we will meet the family that lives in this trailer before the end of the trip and that they may see that our work is a reflection of love that comes from God.
The trailer we're working on.
Unfinished walls.
The coast at low tide.
The historical society, which has some amazing photographs of Waveland's houses before Katrina.
It's been a pretty busy week so far, and I'm just squeezing in some time in to blog. We've been working only on one project- a trailer home that was salvaged from the storm. Our mission has been to drywall the interior so that the family can move in by the end of the month.
The trailer itself is owned by a Katrina survivor- single mom with three kids. When we first arrived, we found a site littered with old toys and debris. When we got inside, it was much of the same. The previous group had already done most of the drywalling. Pastor Dave, Enoch, and myself- we jumped in without any direction, and with limited drywall experience (Pastor Dave had done some before).
After two days of working from 8am to 4:30pm, I became frustrated. Working with drywall compound was messy. We had no idea what level of finish was required, or even whether or not we had to redo some of the poor drywall work. I questioned the job itself because we never met the owner, and the trailer itself was not a beautiful building. The walls were poorly constructed, the ceiling was discolored, there was hardly any space to live- especially for a family of four.
My hope is that we will meet the family that lives in this trailer before the end of the trip and that they may see that our work is a reflection of love that comes from God.
Sunday, January 07, 2007
Waveland, Mississippi
Lagniappe Church has been one of churches that have been active in the reconstruction efforts in this area, which was overlooked by the media after Katrina. They started off with nothing back in January 2006, and since then, they have been grown tremendously. During the summer, they had as many as 250 volunteers helping out in one week. This is the church building, which is a converted indoor pool.
Many of the trees on the Gulf Coast were defoliated and destroyed during the hurricane, and even if they survived that, saltwater killed much of the vegetation during the subsequent flood.
A house once stood on this concrete slab, but the waters swept it away. The different ceramic tiles show where the kitchen and bathrooms used to be.
Lagniappe Church has been one of churches that have been active in the reconstruction efforts in this area, which was overlooked by the media after Katrina. They started off with nothing back in January 2006, and since then, they have been grown tremendously. During the summer, they had as many as 250 volunteers helping out in one week. This is the church building, which is a converted indoor pool.
Many of the trees on the Gulf Coast were defoliated and destroyed during the hurricane, and even if they survived that, saltwater killed much of the vegetation during the subsequent flood.
A house once stood on this concrete slab, but the waters swept it away. The different ceramic tiles show where the kitchen and bathrooms used to be.
Saturday, January 06, 2007
Austin, Texas
This is Austin, the capital city of Texas, just 150 miles south of Dallas. It is also known as “Live Music Capital of the World.”
In the 'burbs.
There is some interesting new architecture happening on the south end of Congress St. (they call it SoCo). There are cafes and restaurants that spill out onto the street, vintage shops with bric-a-brac artifacts, and indie art galleries. We ate Tex-Mex outdoors in unseasonably warm weather.
A series of old bungalows were converted into a trendy hotel, with interesting outdoor spaces and generous amounts of vegetation. With bamboo trees, potted cacti, fragrant wood screens, and climbing plants, Hotel San Jose had both an Oriental and Mexican flavor.
On Mount Bonnell, we could see a panoramic view of the city.
Mozart's Cafe- a popular hangout on the river (which is really a lake..)
This is Austin, the capital city of Texas, just 150 miles south of Dallas. It is also known as “Live Music Capital of the World.”
In the 'burbs.
There is some interesting new architecture happening on the south end of Congress St. (they call it SoCo). There are cafes and restaurants that spill out onto the street, vintage shops with bric-a-brac artifacts, and indie art galleries. We ate Tex-Mex outdoors in unseasonably warm weather.
A series of old bungalows were converted into a trendy hotel, with interesting outdoor spaces and generous amounts of vegetation. With bamboo trees, potted cacti, fragrant wood screens, and climbing plants, Hotel San Jose had both an Oriental and Mexican flavor.
On Mount Bonnell, we could see a panoramic view of the city.
Mozart's Cafe- a popular hangout on the river (which is really a lake..)
The Stockyards
In Ft. Worth, we visited the Stockyards, which is very much like “Frontierland”- with a veritable Main Street, gigantic honkytonk bars, aromatic cattle yards, and horse sheds. To add atmosphere, a loudspeaker blared a recorded voice, with a Southern accent, rambling about the Stockyard’s history. Only here will one find daily cattle drives, where they take longhorns out of their yard and prod down the streets. Tourists crowd the sidewalks as cowboys on horseback guide the cattle, leaving manure in its tracks.
In Ft. Worth, we visited the Stockyards, which is very much like “Frontierland”- with a veritable Main Street, gigantic honkytonk bars, aromatic cattle yards, and horse sheds. To add atmosphere, a loudspeaker blared a recorded voice, with a Southern accent, rambling about the Stockyard’s history. Only here will one find daily cattle drives, where they take longhorns out of their yard and prod down the streets. Tourists crowd the sidewalks as cowboys on horseback guide the cattle, leaving manure in its tracks.
Modern Art Museum, Ft. Worth, Texas
On the other side of the street is the four-year-old Modern Art Museum, designed by Tadao Ando. It is the first Ando work I have seen, and it has all the characteristics of an Ando. Beautiful thick concrete walls with an immaculately polished surface, dynamically changing in color. Lines of formwork very carefully considered. Concrete drums that reconfigure the largely orthogonal spaces. And a reflecting pool from which the museum appears to float.
On the other side of the street is the four-year-old Modern Art Museum, designed by Tadao Ando. It is the first Ando work I have seen, and it has all the characteristics of an Ando. Beautiful thick concrete walls with an immaculately polished surface, dynamically changing in color. Lines of formwork very carefully considered. Concrete drums that reconfigure the largely orthogonal spaces. And a reflecting pool from which the museum appears to float.
Kimbell Art Museum, Ft. Worth, Texas
Contemporary art and architecture is not the first thing that comes to mind when you think about Fort Worth, Texas- a city that is overshadowed by its more obese twin- Dallas. However, after visiting its cultural district, this city boasts some very exquisite architecture, with an interesting collection of modern art. The Kimbell Art Museum may very well be Louis Kahn’s most sensual work. We arrived there in the mid-afternoon sunlight. Here at the Kimbell, light takes on new forms- skillfully invited in by the iconic barrel vault, revealed carefully through thin openings and gaps between massing, and playfully reflected by materials and textures. This light seems to transform the heavy concrete barrel into an inexplicable lightness.
Contemporary art and architecture is not the first thing that comes to mind when you think about Fort Worth, Texas- a city that is overshadowed by its more obese twin- Dallas. However, after visiting its cultural district, this city boasts some very exquisite architecture, with an interesting collection of modern art. The Kimbell Art Museum may very well be Louis Kahn’s most sensual work. We arrived there in the mid-afternoon sunlight. Here at the Kimbell, light takes on new forms- skillfully invited in by the iconic barrel vault, revealed carefully through thin openings and gaps between massing, and playfully reflected by materials and textures. This light seems to transform the heavy concrete barrel into an inexplicable lightness.
Friday, January 05, 2007
Urbana Missions Conference, St. Louis
The first day of the conference, we piled into the Edward Jones Dome, and were a little bit late. We arrived in a packed stadium, filled with 22,000 students praising the Lord. It was like an endless sea of people, and what was so amazing was that these are all people who follow Jesus- who want to do more for God. It was more than just a collection of people. It was a union of students from all walks of life, and from all churches from all over North America, a the visible "body of Christ".
The theme of the event is “Live a Life Worthy of the Calling”- asking for what God’s purpose and plan is for us, based on the book of Ephesians.
(Here we are, eating porridge that is fed to 2/3rd world. Money saved from this meal went to relief missions.)
Urbana allowed me to experience just how God can be so amazing. How His Spirit can move so powerfully. It showed me that giving our life to Jesus meant total freedom, total renewal, and total empowerment. That there is significance and victory in turning towards Jesus. That being missional can mean pain and sacrifice, but it is what we are called to be as humans.
(My friend, Angela, singing with the Chorale de Reconciliation)
I experienced God at work in ways I never thought possible. First: the idea of living simply, living as a steward of God. Shane Claibourne spoke about how there is a major imbalance of wealth, and that we need to move against the injustice caused by the excesses of 1st world consumption. “There is enough in this world to meet our needs, but not enough to satisfy our greed.”
I was touched by the speakers who spoke out against racism. The need for reconciliation is huge here in the States, and we need a multi-ethnic, multi-national, multi-lingual perspective. How should I respond when it comes to bridging the gap between cultures?
There is AIDS- the one pandemic that requires urgent action. Princess Zulu gave a stirring speech. U2's Bono gave a personal video message.
The question is now what is my calling? And how do I live a life that is worthy of that calling? I believe that God is calling me to urban missions. I felt drawn to topics like monasticism, homelessness, house churches, community, and relational evangelism.
Friday, December 30, 2005
Trying to get an unprotected wifi signal for my laptop has made me do strange things. Here I am right now in my parents' cramped kitchen in Toronto, sitting on a cold step ladder, near the water cooler with the laptop bent at a 45 degree angle, which gives me, at the very best, 2 bars. In front of me, my Mom is slicing cantaloupe.
Oh, Dad needs the ladder.
Now, I'm sitting on the cold kitchen floor.
Oh, Dad needs the ladder.
Now, I'm sitting on the cold kitchen floor.
Friday, July 29, 2005
Although I revere Jane Jacobs greatly, it is tempting to point out the idiosyncrasies and inconsistencies of her new book, "Dark Age Ahead." Her premise- that North American culture is slowly spiralling down into a castastrophic Dark Age- is fascinating at first. However, the text is riddled with anecdotes and prescriptive statements that often break up her argument into awkwardly disparate ideas. For example, while expounding on the spectacular growth of Vaughn, an industrial suburb of Toronto, she makes fairly reasonable observations of the economic and social details of its transformation. Then, for some reason, she tacks on a paragraph about a great diner that she visited while she was there. As well, there are often weird but refreshing flashbacks of the old Jane Jacobs- a self-trained urban critic that observes the city from her porch and reinterates the destructive impact of the car, the elevated expressway, urban planners and traffic engineers. Her fascination with walkable and lively neighbourhoods, mixed use, and the intimate relationship between economics and architecture is still apparent, albeit softened.
The book does have its moments. I do like the fact that she does speculate on the future of sprawl: that, maybe, people will naturally see the benefits of densification and of complexifying their neighbourhoods with new building types and mixed use. I also like the observation that there is really little that architecture can do to change a social condition: that poverty and crime can somehow be solved by an architectural sleight-of-hand.
The book does have its moments. I do like the fact that she does speculate on the future of sprawl: that, maybe, people will naturally see the benefits of densification and of complexifying their neighbourhoods with new building types and mixed use. I also like the observation that there is really little that architecture can do to change a social condition: that poverty and crime can somehow be solved by an architectural sleight-of-hand.
Monday, January 24, 2005
BBC's comedy "The Office" is perhaps the most ingenious thing I've seen this year. It's a playful critique on the banality of office life that seems to pervade white-collar management. It's certain that anybody who works in these environments will recognize a bit of themselves in the characters that exaggerate common stereotypes- the regular paper pusher, the legalistic viceroy, the clairvoyant newbie, the love-struck boy in cubicle 3. What is so interesting about the show isn't so much the comedy, but how everyday moments get played up to the point of either silly ridiculousness, or pure melodrama. I am often disappointed with much of the American sitcoms with the same laugh tracks and the same punchlines. It is so refreshing to see something entirely different for a change.
The other moment of brilliance this year for me is "Napoleon Dynamite". The Jared Hess' dead-pan comedy of an awkward teenager living in some hicktown stuck in the 80s has some extremely funny scenes- the li-ger, the dance, Pedro's election campaigning. I am happy that, finally, MTV can produce comedy without resorting to toilet jokes, animal costumes, and profanity.
The other moment of brilliance this year for me is "Napoleon Dynamite". The Jared Hess' dead-pan comedy of an awkward teenager living in some hicktown stuck in the 80s has some extremely funny scenes- the li-ger, the dance, Pedro's election campaigning. I am happy that, finally, MTV can produce comedy without resorting to toilet jokes, animal costumes, and profanity.
Sunday, October 24, 2004
Extraordinary Charrette
A chain of events that could not just be explained away as coincidence:
Saturday
11:00am Gareth, Barbora and I meet at the Second Cup coffeeshop to start brainstorming design ideas for the charette (student design competition). We only meet for an hour, but we were playing around with the idea of situations that influence architecture. For example, the increase in live load as more people arrive at a particular place.
8:30pm We meet again at Barbora's house for another design meeting. Barbora comes up with a brilliant idea of a sinking ground plane that forms an amphitheatre when enough people stand on the site.
9:00pm Gareth comes and is excited about the idea. We chew on it for a bit, and another idea comes: perhaps we can use folding plexiglass and three-dimensionally express our idea. We thought this would be an unbeatable project.
11:30pm We leave, and Gareth goes to the school to check to see if the hot-air blower is available.
12:30pm I get back home and Barbora phones. Says that it's an emergency. Apparently, Gareth had gone back to school and heard the blower being used. He goes to the room and sees a team folding a plexiglass panel with almost a splitting image of our idea. We are devastated, but are too tired to think.
Sunday
9:30am We meet at Place Milton, and guess who we see there too: the team that Gareth saw last night. We are in complete shock. We decide to change our idea, but we couldn't come up with anything.
11:00am We go to Home Depot, and finally, an idea pops up. We get excited, and drive to the library to scan images.
1:00pm Back at Barbora's place, we start working on the presentation when we realize the printing deadline is 2pm. We only have an hour to make the panel.
2:00pm We aren't done yet.
2:15pm We decide to quit. The printing deadline is passed, and we conclude that our panel is too much of a hack job to submit.
2:30pm I propose to go back to the original idea. The deadline is 6pm anyways, and we could get some foamcore and hand draw the panel. Barbora laughs, and asks Gareth if he heard what I just suggested.
3:00pm We decide to give it one last shot, and Barbora goes and gets foamcore.
3:45pm We start drawing on the foamcore.
5:45pm We finish drawing on the panel, and drive to the exhibition room to hand in our project.
6:00pm People look at the panel, intrigued by the low-tech treatment of the project. However, the other team who had the same idea kept their idea. We overheard one professor remark that he has never in his career seen two projects so similar.
9:00pm Gareth, Barbora, and I sit in a Greek restaurant contemplating what has happened in the past 24 hours.
(to be continued)
A chain of events that could not just be explained away as coincidence:
Saturday
11:00am Gareth, Barbora and I meet at the Second Cup coffeeshop to start brainstorming design ideas for the charette (student design competition). We only meet for an hour, but we were playing around with the idea of situations that influence architecture. For example, the increase in live load as more people arrive at a particular place.
8:30pm We meet again at Barbora's house for another design meeting. Barbora comes up with a brilliant idea of a sinking ground plane that forms an amphitheatre when enough people stand on the site.
9:00pm Gareth comes and is excited about the idea. We chew on it for a bit, and another idea comes: perhaps we can use folding plexiglass and three-dimensionally express our idea. We thought this would be an unbeatable project.
11:30pm We leave, and Gareth goes to the school to check to see if the hot-air blower is available.
12:30pm I get back home and Barbora phones. Says that it's an emergency. Apparently, Gareth had gone back to school and heard the blower being used. He goes to the room and sees a team folding a plexiglass panel with almost a splitting image of our idea. We are devastated, but are too tired to think.
Sunday
9:30am We meet at Place Milton, and guess who we see there too: the team that Gareth saw last night. We are in complete shock. We decide to change our idea, but we couldn't come up with anything.
11:00am We go to Home Depot, and finally, an idea pops up. We get excited, and drive to the library to scan images.
1:00pm Back at Barbora's place, we start working on the presentation when we realize the printing deadline is 2pm. We only have an hour to make the panel.
2:00pm We aren't done yet.
2:15pm We decide to quit. The printing deadline is passed, and we conclude that our panel is too much of a hack job to submit.
2:30pm I propose to go back to the original idea. The deadline is 6pm anyways, and we could get some foamcore and hand draw the panel. Barbora laughs, and asks Gareth if he heard what I just suggested.
3:00pm We decide to give it one last shot, and Barbora goes and gets foamcore.
3:45pm We start drawing on the foamcore.
5:45pm We finish drawing on the panel, and drive to the exhibition room to hand in our project.
6:00pm People look at the panel, intrigued by the low-tech treatment of the project. However, the other team who had the same idea kept their idea. We overheard one professor remark that he has never in his career seen two projects so similar.
9:00pm Gareth, Barbora, and I sit in a Greek restaurant contemplating what has happened in the past 24 hours.
(to be continued)
Friday, October 22, 2004
Libeskind
Any architect will know who Daniel Libeskind is- the most recognizable architect today. His lecture on his recent work required very little introduction, needed no verbose explanations, and had a "shock and awe" effect on the audience. His buildings excite, his concepts are clear, his architectural intentions are noble. It's almost uncanny to have an architect who is a household name come down and talk on the same level as all of us.
Any architect will know who Daniel Libeskind is- the most recognizable architect today. His lecture on his recent work required very little introduction, needed no verbose explanations, and had a "shock and awe" effect on the audience. His buildings excite, his concepts are clear, his architectural intentions are noble. It's almost uncanny to have an architect who is a household name come down and talk on the same level as all of us.
Wednesday, October 20, 2004
Buy a Mac
If there's a similarity between Christianity and Mac users, it's that both are minorities who have an instinctual need to tell other people about their love. In the case of Christians, it's the love for Christ. For Mac users, it's the love for Macs. One thing that Apple is succeeding that perhaps Christians can learn from is that people immediately notice the glowing Apple logo, or the white earbuds, or the eagerness to show off OS X. There is an immediate perception of difference, of resistance, and of (perhaps) good taste. If only I was more effective at showing my faith as I am converting PC users.
If there's a similarity between Christianity and Mac users, it's that both are minorities who have an instinctual need to tell other people about their love. In the case of Christians, it's the love for Christ. For Mac users, it's the love for Macs. One thing that Apple is succeeding that perhaps Christians can learn from is that people immediately notice the glowing Apple logo, or the white earbuds, or the eagerness to show off OS X. There is an immediate perception of difference, of resistance, and of (perhaps) good taste. If only I was more effective at showing my faith as I am converting PC users.
Saturday, October 09, 2004
Watch "The Terminal"
This is one of those surprise movies that challenges how we view the world. Tom Hanks plays a traveller who has lost citizenship because his country has dissolved into war, and ends up caught in a crack in the immigration system- unable to enter the United States, but unable to return to his native country. He ends up living in the airport for nine months, using an abandoned gate as a refuge, and using local amenities for essentials- washroom as bathroom, bookstore as school, condiment stand as grocery store. We are led into an imaginative play between the mediated world of the airport, and the uncontrollable community of airport workers. At one end, you see the recognizable shopping world, complete with Starbucks and Borders, but on the other end, you see a darker world of what goes on behind the scenes- airport workers as part of a ridiculous cult, security personnel as voyageuristic egoists. As Rem Koolhaas would say, the airport environment is remarkably similar to the commodified environment that we live in today.
This is one of those surprise movies that challenges how we view the world. Tom Hanks plays a traveller who has lost citizenship because his country has dissolved into war, and ends up caught in a crack in the immigration system- unable to enter the United States, but unable to return to his native country. He ends up living in the airport for nine months, using an abandoned gate as a refuge, and using local amenities for essentials- washroom as bathroom, bookstore as school, condiment stand as grocery store. We are led into an imaginative play between the mediated world of the airport, and the uncontrollable community of airport workers. At one end, you see the recognizable shopping world, complete with Starbucks and Borders, but on the other end, you see a darker world of what goes on behind the scenes- airport workers as part of a ridiculous cult, security personnel as voyageuristic egoists. As Rem Koolhaas would say, the airport environment is remarkably similar to the commodified environment that we live in today.
Thursday, October 07, 2004
Joyful Suffering
How can you show thankfulness when so much has been taken away from you? How can you have joy when much of the time you're in pain? I'd be lying if I said I knew the answer, but these questions have no doubt been on my mind since getting arthritis during my China trip. These past two months have been both the most painful and the most joyful of times. At every moment when I realize that I am completely helpless, something always happens. I discover something and I realize that there is a higher power. I have rarely received so much.. at a time when I have so little. Thesis is going well, I am surrounded by a cloud of good friends, I have loving parents who worry and care for me, I have a God who provides for my every need and who is healing me. The question is.. how can I not be thankful at a time like this?
How can you show thankfulness when so much has been taken away from you? How can you have joy when much of the time you're in pain? I'd be lying if I said I knew the answer, but these questions have no doubt been on my mind since getting arthritis during my China trip. These past two months have been both the most painful and the most joyful of times. At every moment when I realize that I am completely helpless, something always happens. I discover something and I realize that there is a higher power. I have rarely received so much.. at a time when I have so little. Thesis is going well, I am surrounded by a cloud of good friends, I have loving parents who worry and care for me, I have a God who provides for my every need and who is healing me. The question is.. how can I not be thankful at a time like this?
Monday, October 04, 2004
On Sunday we became kids again.
After Sunday School, a dozen of us went to the local chicken diner. Not only was the place a genuine family-run restaurant, but it looked like a 1970s throwback, bringing us back to a time when bell-bottoms, folk music, and long shaggy hair were trendy. The pastor was there, with his wife and four kids, and as the children screamed and giggled when we teased them, we too felt like kids at our favorite restaurant on a Sunday afternoon.
We played card games till the sun went down. We screamed and yelled until our sides hurt as we sat around on the floor hurtling insults at each other, laughing at our silliness, and concentrating hard when it was our turn. Bang! Five! Two! Three! Spoons!! I broke a nail!! You're a P-I-G!!!
We watched old Jackie Chan films, impersonating the voice overs and laughing at the cheesy music.
We stood and sat around in relative silence, savoring and slurping fudgsicles.
Eighteen grown-ups that for a moment forgot the world around them and became kids again.
After Sunday School, a dozen of us went to the local chicken diner. Not only was the place a genuine family-run restaurant, but it looked like a 1970s throwback, bringing us back to a time when bell-bottoms, folk music, and long shaggy hair were trendy. The pastor was there, with his wife and four kids, and as the children screamed and giggled when we teased them, we too felt like kids at our favorite restaurant on a Sunday afternoon.
We played card games till the sun went down. We screamed and yelled until our sides hurt as we sat around on the floor hurtling insults at each other, laughing at our silliness, and concentrating hard when it was our turn. Bang! Five! Two! Three! Spoons!! I broke a nail!! You're a P-I-G!!!
We watched old Jackie Chan films, impersonating the voice overs and laughing at the cheesy music.
We stood and sat around in relative silence, savoring and slurping fudgsicles.
Eighteen grown-ups that for a moment forgot the world around them and became kids again.
Friday, October 01, 2004
The Debate
I have never seen a debate where there is absolutely no risk. The presidential debates last night was heated, but with all the new debate rules, the candidates looked more like scripted puppets than real people. Some of the answers sounded prefabricated, engineered with words that were carefully chosen by spin doctors. Perhaps the stakes are too high for a full-fledged all-out debate which could humiliate either side, but then again, this when the stakes are this high shouldn't there be a forum where we can really see the kind of creative and intelligent spontaneity that we require of our top leaders? I demand a president who isn't afraid to stand up and speak boldly, careful not to jump into repetitive cliches. Of the two, John Kerry, I think, proved himself the most during the debate as a decisive leader who can not only articulate his ideas cleanly, but also look into the camera and speak simply to Americans without resorting to slang and rhetoric.
I have never seen a debate where there is absolutely no risk. The presidential debates last night was heated, but with all the new debate rules, the candidates looked more like scripted puppets than real people. Some of the answers sounded prefabricated, engineered with words that were carefully chosen by spin doctors. Perhaps the stakes are too high for a full-fledged all-out debate which could humiliate either side, but then again, this when the stakes are this high shouldn't there be a forum where we can really see the kind of creative and intelligent spontaneity that we require of our top leaders? I demand a president who isn't afraid to stand up and speak boldly, careful not to jump into repetitive cliches. Of the two, John Kerry, I think, proved himself the most during the debate as a decisive leader who can not only articulate his ideas cleanly, but also look into the camera and speak simply to Americans without resorting to slang and rhetoric.
Thursday, September 23, 2004
Play
Play is the ultimate form of human activity. When all the chores are done, when all your homework is finished, when the workweek is over, humans go play. Play could mean watching TV, playing sports, playing video games- play is anything in which the end is less significant that the actual act of playing. Sociability is form of play. Talking to somebody casually is pleasurable, and it is no surprise that popular communication tools like MSN Messenger, email, and even blogging are contemporary forms of expression that are derived essentially from play. How does play fit in with faith? Christianity limits our play in many ways.
Play is the ultimate form of human activity. When all the chores are done, when all your homework is finished, when the workweek is over, humans go play. Play could mean watching TV, playing sports, playing video games- play is anything in which the end is less significant that the actual act of playing. Sociability is form of play. Talking to somebody casually is pleasurable, and it is no surprise that popular communication tools like MSN Messenger, email, and even blogging are contemporary forms of expression that are derived essentially from play. How does play fit in with faith? Christianity limits our play in many ways.
Friday, September 17, 2004
The Internet killed the television. At least for me, there is now no reason to get cable. The computer screen now allows you to access anything from anywhere in the world, shop, download movies and shows, listen to music, plan your life, talk to friends, compose a song, watch the shows and movies that you downloaded, read the Bible, make money, do banking, sell your possessions. The vitualness of the TV is being subverted by a more seductive virtualness: that of the computer. This is not new. But it does beg the question of how we spend our productive lives in front of essentially a machine. But maybe reality is too inefficient.
Friday, September 10, 2004
I have a problem with traditional Chinese medicine. It is a gimmick, something that entices only because it provides hope to those seeking it. In my opinion, it is a false hope, predicated by profit and the business of fear. When I went to the acupunturist, there is no question whether or not he could heal me. Simply come twice a week, and you will be healed, he says. Western medicine treats the symptoms, Eastern medicine treats the source. However, there is no proof that acupuncture works, that taking herbal medicine will heal. It is driven only by people who lack a scientific understanding of the body and need something to comfort (or discomfort) them periodically. The only difference between the beginning of treatment and the end of it is that I had perfect red circles all over my back, and relief that I don't have to go back there anymore.
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