Contemporary Hand-painted Batiks

Earlier on I posted photos of some block-printed and multi-waxed-dyed traditional Malaysian batiks on cotton. Here are some hand painted ones on silk, exclusively from the workshop of my dear friend Kartini Illias (they are my shirts actually!) of iKARRTINi Batiks. http://www.ikarrtini.com/

Kartini has been in the batik business for some 15 years and owns a ladies boutique and a men’s shop of only silk wares in the 5-star shopping complex the Suria KLCC under Kuala Lumpur ’s famous Petronas Twin Towers. She has also recently opened another outlet in the posh new Tang’s Pavilion at Jalan Bukit Bintang.

Kartini has one the years dressed many local dignitaries and visiting world leaders, personalities and luminaries (including Hollywood ’s Mel Gibson) with her batiks.

In June last year I invited Kartini to do two batik fashion show here and it was a runaway success with some 400 guests attending the shows. The beautiful summer weather on that day wonderfully complemented her clothes on parade.

I subsequently recommended her to my colleague in New Delhi and in late November she did a show in New Delhi and Mumbai each. Weeks before that she did successful shows in Beijing and Shanghai .
I wish you more and greater success in the coming years Kartini dear.

Note 22/2/2009: I have just been informed that next week Kartini's batiks, together with a few renowned Malaysian products will be launched in London's HARRODS and will henceforth be available in that landmark departmental store. Congratulations Kartini!

See video : http://youtu.be/HWOCV6_Okr8

Simeon Gonzales Ayquipa

Simeon, good luck and all the best with your exhibition in Spain. I will be in Alicante from 6 - 9 April.

These last two are hand-painted and waxed batiks on silk. When Simeon visited me in 2004 I sent him for a few days to Trengganu and while there he spent some time in a batik workshop learning and experimenting batik making. The above is a result of his effort.

Mrs Hetman's House

From 1988 to 1992 I lived in Warsaw, Poland for nearly four and half years in three different houses.

I inherited the first house from my predecessor and disliked it from the beginning. It was small and connected to another house and it was near the airport and I could hear all the landings and take-offs and taxiing of planes. I managed to persuade my HQ to let me move and I was out of the house within a month.

The second house was modern and rather luxurious by Polish standard. It was in a leafy neighbourhood, near a small, pretty round about. It had four floors including a spacious basement, and a nice garden with a plum tree that fruited generously in summer. A few doors away lived Poland’s most prodigious and celebrated film director Andrej Wajda, but I never met him!

I did not have a good rapport with the landlady though as I found her rather mean/stingy (in Malay we say ‘berkira’). During my two-years stay, I was once burgled while I was at the opera. The thief only managed to enter my bedroom on the 3rd floor and took away my cash, watches AND my documents! Strange enough my documents – passport, legitimation cards, driving license and check book were later wrapped in newspaper and thrown in somebody’s garden in a small town 50 kms from Warsaw. The lady who found it was kind enough to call my office and I gladly received my documents back.

When my contract was about to end the landlady asked for a preposterous 80% increase in the rent if I wanted to stay on. I duly submitted it to my HQ and was resigned to looking for another house as there was no way I was going to get that amount of increase approved.

But against all odds, I did get the increase approved. But the landlady was only willing to let me stay on another three months with the increased rental. And she had the audacity to tell me that she only wanted the three months rental to renovate her kitchen – which was in fact the worst feature of the house.

Well, there was no way I was going to let her have her cake and eat it too. I was determined to find another house.

As luck would have it, a neighbour diagonally across from my house one day rang my doorbell, introduced herself and invited me to visit inspect her house. More like her small castle I thought of that imposing house right at the round about, which was beyond my dream till then. Standing at a landing on the grand staircase underneath a huge glittering chandelier amidst an opulent surrounding inside the house, I remember thinking if only I could have this house.

I thanked her and said there was no way I could afford to rent her house. A few days later she rand my bell again and asked how much I could pay her and I quoted the sum that my HQ had recently approved. Next day she came around and said I could have her house for that rental, and added that she had the French, the Arab and a multinational company wanting to rent her house at a much higher rental, but she wanted ME to stay in her house.

So at the appointed time I moved into Mrs. Hetman’s house, just across the road. She and her adult son Konrad moved out only with their clothes, and their huge dog Bartek! She drove off in her big Mercedes and Konrad in his sporty BMW. And we were then in Socialist Poland! I was amazed at her wealth and her total ease about it at a time when the country was so poor and struggling. When I asked her why she did not take away at least some of her precious things like her antique porcelains, silvers and paintings, she told me to just enjoy and look after them. She said she was tired of living in and looking after that huge house after her husband died and with her chronic back problem and wanted to live in an apartment close to her mother in the town Lodz, some hours’ drive from Warsaw.

I remember thinking, was I playing caretaker or what, and paying for it too! I was also anxious that the house would not have my personal identity, but it worked out in the end.

A few weeks later, a beautiful little kitten fell into my basement washing room from the garden. He became my lovable pet I named Jing. And we lived happily in that opulent home for the next two and half years till my final departure from Poland.

A lot of things happened in Poland in those years I lived in Mrs. Hetman’s house. The Berlin Wall tumbled down, the Iron Curtain came crashing down and Communism disintegrated. I went through a rough time at work and most difficult emotional period of my adulthood.

But it was always good to come back to my very own sanctuary – Mrs Hetman’s grand, opulent house, which had taken a character of its own with a combination of my select personal belongings and Mrs. Hetman’s, and cared for lovingly by my loyal maid Irena who had been with me from the very first house.
Mrs Hetman, where ever you are today - Sto lat, sto lat! Dziekuje Pani bardzo!

Energy in Machu Picchu

I felt a tremendous feeling of awe on my first real sight of this incredible ancient citadel in it's ruinous splendour. For centuries Machu Picchu had been buried in jungle until July 1911 when Hiram Bingham stumbled upon it. Then on Yale University sent an archaeological expedition to explore it.

A stunning archaeological find, Machu Picchu was the only Inca site to escape 400 years of looting and destruction and it was remarkably preserved. Nor was it an ordinary Inca settlement. Located in an inaccessible location above the Urubamba gorge it contained so many fine buildings that people have been puzzling over it's meaning since discovery.

I have been fortunate to visit Machu Picchu twice. The first was the usual touristy visit, taking a rickety designated bus from Aquas Calientes. The speedy uphill drive was rather suicidal I thought with the driver oblivious to the hair-pin curves and driving as if there was no tomorrow. I was so preoccupied with the thought of another suicidal drive down later, it rather took away the excitement of being in Machu Picchu. Fortunately another driver took over our bus and it was quite a relief.

My second visit was with two friends and we decided to treat ourselves and stay up in Machu Picchu where the only accommodation was then was the 36-room Machu Picchu Sanctuary Lodge with an expensive room rate to boot. We were lucky as the rooms were very much in demand and difficult to secure. We can now claim to be among the few people who had actually slept up there in Machu Picchu.

The ruins had a completely different feel once the hordes of day tourists had left . I remember asking my friends to join me to explore the place (we had free access to the ruins as guests at the lodge) after the last day tourists had been herded off and before the sun goes down. It was a rude and memorable shock to me when they told me to go ahead first as they wanted to finish watching 'All About Eve' from a video they found in the lodge's library! God, did they come all the way to Machu Picchu to watch ' All About Eve'? (Abed, are you reading this? Hehehe!)

So I went on my own. And contrary to what most people expected of the place when deserted or at twilight (there was no sunset anyway, it just slowly and gradually got dark), I felt nothing spiritual nor frightening. What I felt was a tremendous amount of peace, calm and ENERGY! I found a solitary orchid flower growing out from a crack on a wall. And I had the whole place to myself, save for a few solitary people wondering about at a distance, and one man meditating on one of the higher points.

Next morning the three of us were up early to catch the place in a different mood before the tourist crowd arrive from Aguas Calientes. We encountered a whole group of people who had been hiking for 3-4 days from the Sacred Valley on the Inca Trail, and had finally reached their destination in the same tradition the Incas did hundreds of years ago.....

Traditional Malaysian Batiks

Much have been made about Malaysian batiks. Batik-making in Malaysia had over the years stretched the limit of what should be construed as batik. Modern Malaysian batiks sometimes do not look like batiks anymore - all in the name of so-called innovation. They may as well be printed by machine. And there are those which are just brush painted on the cloths and with a few lines and dots made by waxing!

I am a traditionalist when it comes to batik and if a batik is hand painted then it should be really be so and a work of art.

Anyway, I have always admired the traditional batik sarong and lepas from Trengganu and Kelantan which are block printed and multi-dyed. The making of the design block itself is a highly skilled and artistic output. Sadly this form of batiks are nowadays sidelined, unrecognised works of arts. Just imagine in developed countries like Australia, Europe and the US where any hand-made crafts or artwork are extremely valued and highly-priced. And in Malaysia block-printed batik which should fall into this category are relegated to the lower stratum of appreciation.

I have a whole collection of these batiks bought over the years for anything from RM10 to RM 16 or at the very most RM20 and they always make beautiful and excellent backdrop or decor at my functions.

Here are some of them

See video: http://youtu.be/slp729OJbO0

Raphael Scott Ahbeng

Raphael, I hope you are well and still painting. I could not get through your mobile over Christmas, please let me have your new number. Greeting and all my best wishes for 2009.
Your paintings are very well-admired here but masih belum ada rezeki lagi....

My friend Francois

Sometime last year I decided to trace an old friend who I had not seen for 27 years but had been in contact from time to time. He and I served in Vietnam in the late 70s and early 80s. Since then his work with the International Red Cross had taken him all over the world whenever there was a humanitarian crisis. I heard that he took an early retirement for health reasons.

I found his telephone number in the Internet and called him. He was actually living about one and half hour from where I am. Sometime later I went to visit him. He was a picture of a distinguished gentleman, snowy hair now, still trim and sporty but heavier than 27 years ago.His voice though had become rather weak and quivering. He had been fighting cancer for a few years now. I admired his bravery and positive attitude. And I felt very sad and remorse at how life could suddenly change for anyone without us having control of it. I know this too well from my own experience some years back.

Francois a most active and energetic person I knew, ravelling everywhere at the drop of a hat, sporty, cultured and articulate, and extremely good at his job. His huge apartment was a testimony of the many countries he had lived in, adorned with interesting things from them.

He told me he was diagnosed with cancer after a colons copy which he undertook after a long period of unexplained tiredness. That bit of information got me rather worried as I was myself due for a colons copy in a month's time from then at a doctor's friend recommendation as I had for over two years suffered from chronic indigestion. Thank God my colons copy result was fine, the doctor removed a small benign polyp and my indigestion is now history!

Three weeks ago I called Francois thinking he had returned from Washington where he was supposed to conduct some courses in his expertise (I was surprised when he told me about that and wondered if he could manage all that long travel but he said he needed to keep himself occupied and useful). He told me he did not go after all as he was suffering from a bout of depression resulting from the long period of his battle for his health. He had got over it and was planning to take a holiday in Thailand, a familiar ground for him. I promised we would get together when he returned.

I hope my friend had had a good a trouble-free holiday.

My reunion with Francois was again a wake-up call of sorts. Not that I have not appreciated my good fortune in life but it is a reawakening that there is no certainty in life and I should count my blessings every day. My dear friend in Holland had just had an ICD implanted in his body to monitor and assist his heartbeat. My good friend Fadzil in Malaysia will go into hospital on 22 February to have an open-heart operation to replace a damaged valve in his heart. I will pray for his successful surgery. Another friend now goes around with a portable oxygen tank to help with his breathing.

When you hear about one friend after another undergoing difficult development with their health, it makes you realise how fortunate you are to be spared - thus far!

I thank Allah for his blessings on me and I wish everyone good health and blessings always...