30/04/2012

Ryan Mrozowski at Pierogi Gallery

Ryan Mrozowski at Pierogi Gallery

“A Mouth That Might Sing,” Ryan Mrozowski’s third Pierogi exhibit in three years, kicked off at the popular Williamsburg gallery last Friday (April 27th) and runs until the last weekend of May. The title is a fitting one: Quite a bit of Mrozowski’s work features spectators sitting in a theater, waiting in anticipation for some sort of spectacle. Much of the room in his paintings are devoted to the back of people’s heads. Inside they appear to be asking the same question we ask ourselves every day: What is going to happen next?

Mrozowski, a Philadelphia native who has been living in Brooklyn since earning his MFA from Pratt in 2005, repeatedly takes familiar objects—baseball cards, book pages, advertisements—and removes the main focal point, leaving a mere shadow of an outline in its place. The viewer can’t help but see themselves somewhere in the void. This makes me anxious for two reasons: (1) Something is happening to me; (2) I don’t know what it is.

Paintings like “Skirmish” and “Enthusiasts” focus on the audience, not the stage, turning the regular paying folks into the real spectacle in the process. (Isn’t the audience always the real spectacle? Experiment: Try going to the movies in Union Square on a Friday night.) Another, “Molecule”, features a dog with no neck, his head floating aimlessly above his body. Part Helmut Koller, part Francis Bacon, “Molecule” manages to be clean and violent (the dog is alive, but he has no neck) without being over the top or kitschy (the dog looks proud). Like most of the work on display here, it’s simultaneously disturbing and familiar, like a herd of cows floating above their grazing grounds.

A notable addition to Mrozowski’s oeuvre is his recent “Book Page” series, in which double-sided found book pages are floated over a single light bulb to create a hybrid image (a third image, to be exact, or as the PR people like to call it, a “hidden collage”) that distorts the viewers’ depth perception. Likewise, the short film “Palimpsest” shows a girl lost wandering an apartment doing ordinary things—going to the fridge, navigating furniture, slamming a door in sheer terror—while falling in and out of her own shadow. We may not physically fall out of our own shadows, per se, but we’ve all been here before: confused, rattled, and in the midst of a late-night existential crisis when all we wanted was a drink of warm milk to help us back to sleep.

Ryan Mrozowski at Pierogi Gallery, 177 N. 9th Street, Brooklyn, NY, April 27th—May 27th.

Lane Koivu – Images courtesy of Pierogi Gallery

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27/04/2012

Bas Princen at the Architectural Association

Bas Princen at the Architectural Association

This Wednesday, renowned Dutch photographer Bas Princen gave a stirring lecture at London’s Architectural Association, in which he discussed technique, the informal maquettes he uses for visual study and the strange informal relationship growing cities in the developing have to the landscapes they quickly overtake. The image that has perhaps come to embody his work is an iconic shot of a squat office tower in Texas, its garish mirrored gold façade somehow serving to make it entirely invisible within its innocuous American surroundings, and it is in this tenuous play of landscape against/among/without/within the built environment that the magic of Princen’s photos lies.


Unlike most photographers, whose subject focus comes perhaps through long processes of elimination, Princen was first trained as an architect and so has a keen sense for the built environment. That he shoots architecture was written in the stars, it seems. It’s been said that his sweeping, dramatic photographs slice through buildings and somehow omnipotently display and expose them from within. He chalks this up to the all-knowing eyes of the camera and admitted that he often discovers new things about a place he’s been through his images. And also unlike other, perhaps more romantic photographers, he doesn’t place much importance on an interesting story behind a bland image, saying instead that what is most important in a good image is that it be capable in itself of telling a powerful story.

The dramatic interplay of landscape and architecture (both formal and informal) in Princen’s work has culminated in book called Reservoirs which eloquently, forcefully highlights an uncomfortable and tenuous relationship of the built with the natural. From massive public works projects in the desert outside Los Angeles to Chinese landscapes being subsumed by buildings, these images beg massive questions about 21st century urbanism and make reference the terrifying majesty of architecture itself.


Interestingly, although his exhibited images have always been on shot on large format film with stationary view cameras, he has recently made a shift to high-end digital. The choice, he imagines, could change his work tangibly and will almost certainly result in more abstract images. And although we’re never really keen on an artist’s abandonment of analog (and many, including Cindy Sherman, have made sweeping total shifts in the past couple of years), we’re nonetheless interested in seeing his work pushed towards new frontiers.

Princen’s exhibition opens tonight, Friday 27 April, starting at 6:30pm in London’s Bedford Square and will run until the 26th of May.

Tag Christof – Images courtesy Van Kranendonk Gallery and Architectural Association

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26/04/2012

Dick Clark: 1929–2012

Dick Clark: 1929–2012

America’s Oldest Teenager is dead. Dick Clark—both the man and the brand—played a large role in defining American popular culture over the past half century. His star had steadily been fading since he suffered a stroke in the early 2000s, but few were on Clark’s level, and his fingerprints retain a tight grip on American media. American Bandstand, the show he turned into a national sensation, ran from 1957 until the late 80s and was the longest-running music show in American history. He cast a long shadow in the television and music industries; there’d be no American Idol, no Punk’d or Ryan Seacrest without him. I hate to say this, but there might not even be a Snooki.

Clark never courted controversy or sensationalism, and instead fashioned himself as something like the friendly neighbor next door: innocent, wholesome and familiar as vanilla ice-cream. He was an astute salesman, not a cultural icon. I don’t think he was ever a teenager. “If he had a public personality,” the NY Times wrote in their obituary, “it was the genial but sexually non-threatening affability of an efficient executive determined to get the job done and to get rich doing it.” He embodied the simple values of middle-class America, calming millions of nervous parents for thirty minutes each night. You could leave your kid alone with good ol’ Dick. He bottled up youth, shook out the blemishes, and sold it back to us wholesale.


He did get rich doing it. Very rich. Dick Clark Productions, the company he built on the shoulders of American Bandstand, would quickly expand into movies, game shows, award shows, comedy specials, talk shows, children’s programming, and reality programming, accumulating over 7,500 hours of programming in the process. In addition to Dick Clark’s New Year’s Rockin’ Eve, which started in 1974 and is currently hosted by—I can’t believe I’m saying this—Ryan Seacrest, and “$10,000 Pyramid,” a popular game show that competed with Jeopardy! and The Price Is Right and helped lay the groundwork for future game shows like Who Wants to Be a Millionaire?.

Clark was never shy about making money, and like any good producer, his influence was hard to miss even when you couldn’t see him. “My greatest asset in life,” he once quipped, “was I never lost touch with hot dogs, hamburgers, going to the fair and hanging out at the mall.” No, he didn’t. The wholesome values he pushed have become antiquated and kitsch, but a good deal of the hubbub surrounding his death owes a lot to the fact that Dick never lost touch with American viewers; most of the broadcasting platforms he established remain as bankable as they were in his heyday.

Just ask, well, you know his name.

Lane Koivu

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25/04/2012

The First Note On The Horn – Tokyo Burning

The First Note On The Horn – Tokyo Burning

At Eleven, formerly known as Yellow, the pioneering and revered night club in the heart of Tokyo, the squared box in the second basement was already trembling in a blast.

Around midnight, when the Sly Mongoose appeared on the stage, we heard the rumble of distant thunder, then the first note on the horn boosted the fervor of the audience. You would easily get caught by this Sly Mongoose, a Japanese instrumental group with an intriguing mix of percussive and electric eccentric groove. Listen to one of their tracks Snakes and Ladder for example, which became international DJs’ favourite in 2006 and arose a vogue worldwide.

We heard our ears pop from the roar, the audience was roaring for more. At the backstage we met Kuni the trumpetist. With his lady horn Monette, he spoke with a warm smile on his face. “After the March 11th 2011, it’s true, some moved out of Tokyo, some moved out of the music scene, some moved out of their lives themselves… Simply, what I can say now is, I’m thankful to be able to play and see those people gathering again, here, right now.”

This night, Kuni was back to his old club, where he once had blazed a trail in developing a fusion of DJ and musical instruments in the late 90s, leading a legendary DnB party Earth People. Born and raised in the very center of Tokyo, the little boy was fascinated by the first visit show of The Commodores in early 70s, at his home, stimulated by the pervasive aroma of indian incense arranged by his mother with her arms loaded down with bracelets.

“Jazz seeping through an Altec, Soul Train on TV… My father himself was a singer and a trumpeter too, always with a pipe in his mouth. He allowed me to play his horn once in a while. I would say, my home atmosphere was rather unique, definitely not a typical Japanese one.”

He experienced his own first horn at his age of 12, which was the year 1982 when Art Blakey & The Jazz Messengers came to Tokyo. It was really natural for him to step in the world of music. Yet when he received the scholarship to enter the Barklee College of Music with a great enthusiasm to further his study, one question emerged as a major preoccupation in his mind: What does it mean to do Jazz as a Japanese?

One August night in New York in 1988, he was there to explore the dreamt local music scene before entering his college. Wynton Marsalis was on the stage at Alice Tully Hall, Lincoln Center for Performing Arts. “That night, after the show, I went to see Wynton at the backstage, just like in Tokyo. He welcomed me and said, ‘Bring your horn and just stop by.’ He handed me a note with his home address and phone number.” Then he smiled softly, “Wynton was there one day when I called him. So, I went to see him. At the time when I left his house, a hint was dropped to that question smoldering in my mind…” (…to be continued)

Ai Mitsuda

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23/04/2012

Welcome to Monkeytown

Welcome to Monkeytown

Modeselektor are a band that formed soon after the fall of the Berlin Wall, and their musical arc over the past decade has been appropriately thundering, celebratory and without borders, seamlessly incorporating elements of IDM, hip-hop, jazz, dub, and pop. Their genre is at best haphazard; no one knows what to call it, everybody moves to it. Their tunes work equally just as well with a bag of kabenzis as they do with a hit of MDMA or acid, and often both will do.

Gernot Bronsert and Sebastian Szary started out as DJs, evolved into a production team, and in the process ended up becoming full on songwriters. Sometimes they sound like two scientists breaking new territory, other times like two kids breaking into their parent’s weed stash, but their compass always points to the dance floor. None other than Thom Yorke has appeared on two of the duo’s last three albums and seems to be their biggest fan.


They’re more of a musician’s musician over in America, a DJ’s DJ, but the Americans in attendance at either of their two New York shows last week (one at the Music Hall of Williamsburg, one at Webster Hall) didn’t seem to mind the outside world’s lack of interest. “Yes!” was all anyone could seem to say over tracks from Happy Birthday! and Hello Mom!. This is because Modeselektor sound better live: Unlike many of their producer/musician/DJ counterparts, Bronsert and Szary prefer the stage to the studio, and their tunes take on a new dimension when heard in real life. It’s like a DJ set, only they’re DJing their own stuff. James Murphy, are you listening?

Technical, bottom-heavy, calculated with every gesture; even their name comes from a machine function on the Roland RE-201 space echo analog delay effects unit. One can imagine these two sitting in the corner of the discothèque arms crossed sipping on a pint of vodka lime, nodding slowly under the flurry of lights. But considering they called their last album Monkeytown we can assume they don’t take themselves too seriously. The same goes for their music. “I wanna make you sweat―bass bass drum! Hyper! Hyper!” one song boasts. “We put some energy into this place―I want to ask you something: are you ready?”

Lane Koivu

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17/04/2012

Ecstatic Alphabets / Heaps of Language at MoMA

Ecstatic Alphabets/Heaps of Language at MoMA

In our everyday life we never actually ‘think’ about the language. While for most the language is often invisible, some are more attracted to its visible form – the letters.

Significantly, graphic designers sometimes get lost in this tangible form of basic human expression, often considering the visible part as an abstract form, thus ignoring its meaning. But they are not the only ones who work with material qualities of language. Since Apollinaire and concrete poetry movement, artist and poets have been handling language as a physical structure.

It is exactly this kind of approach that MoMA is trying to investigate in its latest exhibition entitled “Ecstatic Alphabets/Heaps of Language”. The curator Laura Hoptman has decided to take an insight into material qualities of language explored by artist working with a wide range of media.

The exhibition provides both a historical look (even though some of the artist could still be considered contemporary) through the works of Carl Andre, Marcel Broodthaers, Henri Chopin, Marcel Duchamp, Ian Hamilton Finlay, John Giorno, Kitasono Katue, Ferdinand Kriwet, Liliane Lijn, Filippo Tommaso Marinetti, Bruce Nauman, Lawrence Weiner and others.

While these modernist experiments are being presented through a timeline, in order to get a broader historical view of the phenomenon and tell the story of concrete language in visual art, the contemporary part of the exhibition focuses on the new ways of investigating the concrete language phenomenon. Hence, the ratios has become not only a poet but also writer, graphic designer, performer and publisher working with a contemporary mix of the available media.

Thus, the fact that among the impressive list of contemporary artist we can find designers like Experimental Jetset, isn’t a pure coincidence. Since graphic design has become an evolving collaborative approach, more than a defined discipline, this exhibition sheds some light on these kind of practices, that both open the discipline to contaminations from other fields as well as free it from the duties of (commercial) communication.

The exhibition, opening the 6th of May and running until 27th of August, will be accompanied by a catalogue curated by Stuart Bailey and David Reinfurt from Dexter Sinister. If you actually manage to miss the exhibition, you must stay tuned for their Bulletins of the Serving Library where concrete language goes digital.

Rujana Rebernjak

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13/04/2012

Kraftwerk Retro at MoMA

Kraftwerk Retro at MoMA

How much are you willing to pay to see Kraftwerk? The question loomed large on the 59,280 distressed minds who’d uniformly failed to get tickets the morning of February 22nd. “You are waiting in the queue,” the screen repeated for hours on end. “You do not need to refresh, this page will automatically redirect you when it is your turn to purchase tickets.” For the 99%, that turn never came. No surprise―the legendary electronic pioneers retrospective eight night stint at MoMA only had room for 400 people per night, and a quarter of those tickets went to Volkswagen to give away in raffles and promo plugs. The rest were shuttered to the Craigslist gutters, where the cheapest ticket would set you back a month or two’s rent.

Kraftwerk have been called many things: the Beatles of pop, the godfathers of hip-hop, the founders of electronic music, etc., but they’re also very funny, though you’re likely find water in hell before you see Ralf Hütter laughing. Are they trying to be? For a bunch of humans bent on disappearing into the technology they embrace, not bluffing is very important. “This show will be performed by robots and no one I know will attend!” one fan whined, and he was right. No one knew any real humans who were going, just like how no one knows how Kraftwerk makes the sounds they do, especially in a live setting. The aura that surrounds the music is almost as mysterious as the men who make it.

But there is something deeply ironic about four Germans making funky music while standing stoically behind pods, tinkering with computers, synthesizers and, according to one MoMA employee, iPads. They’re pop stars, yet their hips don’t shake, and I’ve never seen their eyes blink. Their attention to detail is astonishing, kind of like watching a master mechanic pound out a five-cylinder engine from sheet metal, only Kraftwerk’s engine is responsible for churning out some of the best pop singles of the last 40 years: “The Robots,” “The Model,” “Autobahn,” not to mention entire albums: Trans-Europe Express, The Man-Machine, Radio-Activity. So yeah, they work like robots, all day in night in their legendary Kling Klank studio just outside of Düsseldorf, but the music that comes out of it continues to be strangely warm and innately human.

Lane Koivu

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10/04/2012

DIY – Can We Make It On Our Own?

DIY – Can We Make It On Our Own?

There’s no need to say that the modern man is a lazy beast. While our brains are getting more and more fuzzy, our hands are becoming a mouse shaped claws. While our lives were getting more and more comfortable, we were left our homo habilis nature sink into oblivion. While our fathers were able to build houses from scratch, we get anxious at changing a lightbulb. The materialist culture has taken away our autonomy, depriving us of the happiness only crafting things with our hands could bring.

The recent ‘revival’ of DIY culture is only a myth or pure fashion, as we still rush to Ikea as soon as we need a simple shelf or a working desk. Even though probably we are all fed up with the DIY preaching, it doesn’t seem to have taken real effect on us. As the spring cleaning sessions have already begun, it should be important to remember that you can actually re-use stuff we want to get rid of and maybe even make something by ourselves.

Among the endless DIY book list, there are three we feel you should be looking at. The first in order of appearance, given its recent publication, is Thomas Bilass‘s “How to Make it Without Ikea”. The second volume in the series isn’t that much about actual practical advice, but more about teaching us how to think outside the box, doming our materialist impulses and rethinking our daily routines.

Scaling up on the list, we can’t but remember Vladimir Arkhipov‘s “Home-Made: Contemporary Russian Folk Artefacts” book. The russian collector has gathered an enormous archive of anonymous objects that people made for themselves, conditioned by limited resources and an overabundance of problem-solving spirit.

Last but not least, even though you might have it over the top, Enzo Mari‘s “Autoprogettazione” can’t be left out. With the recent “Autoprogettazione Revisited” and “Autoprogettazione 2.0″ (to be presented this year during the Salone in Milan) it remains a true Bible. Not only because of the quality of Mari’s projects, but because its true intent was building awareness regarding the process of design while crafting these beautiful objects.

Arrived at this point, we cannot avoid quoting Richard Sennett: “craftsmanship names the basic human impulse to do a job well for its own sake, and good craftsmanship involves developing skills and focusing on the work rather than ourselves.”

Rujana Rebernjak

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06/04/2012

The Lifespan of a Fact by John D’Agata and Jim Fengal

The Lifespan of a Fact by John D’Agata and Jim Fengal

There has been a considerable amount of debate lately over whether or not essayist John D’Agata has the right to present fiction as fact. The muscled author behind “About a Mountain” and the lightly controversial new book “The Lifespan of a Fact” seems to be spending a fair amount of his non-teaching time championing an old mantra of David Byrne’s: “facts all come with a point of view, facts don’t do what I want them to, facts just twist the truth around, facts are living turned inside out.” A friend of facts D’Agata ain’t.

To set it straight for those who haven’t read the book, D’Agata claims duty only to Truth with a capital T, not the pesky facts that try and stop him along the way. To him, the two seem to be mutually exclusive. The problem with D’Agata assigning himself to the role of God (an authority that permits a fictional story to be guised as a “lyrical essay” and sold to the public as “journalism”) is that it ultimately gets in the way of the story he’s trying to tell. D’Agata alters facts and dreams up realities that only exist in the depths of his imagination, often for arbitrary reasons. He changes things small―the number of Vegas strip clubs, from thirty-one to thirty-four; the color of a van, from pink to purple―and large: the history of Tae Kwon Do, relying on “coincidences” that aren’t in fact real, making up quotes and attributing them to people he never spoke to. In short, writing fiction. All of which begs the question: Is D’Agata more concerned with his own prose than he is with the subjects he writes about?

“I don’t think it’s ok for us to say, ‘In your memoir about growing up and liking pie, it’s completely ok to alter the facts’,” D’Agata said in a recent interview with NPR. “’But when dealing with huge issues like suicide or nuclear waste, it’s not ok.’ The subject in this essay is amped up to get us to pay attention.”

Wait, aren’t these weightier cultural issues the ones we need to verify? Most people don’t give a shit if you lie about what kind of pie you liked growing up, because your preference for pie is inconsequential. The details surrounding a suicide epidemic―or, say, nuclear waste―are not. Unless I’m missing something.

Monologist Mike Daisey was recently put through the meat grinder for presenting his controversial theatre piece about Apple’s overseas labor practices (“The Agony and Ecstasy of Steve Jobs”) as journalism on This American Life. Turned out Daisey fabricated a large part of his story, including gruesome stories about the working conditions of Chinese labor workers. No good, right? “It was a fine bit of theater,” wrote David Carr of the New York Times. “It worked less well as a piece of journalism.” Speaking for the general public, Carr went on to condemn Daisey’s apparent supposition “that you have to cheat to come up with remarkable journalism that tilts the rink.”


D’Agata cheats while simultaneously arguing that he’s not a journalist. Like Daisey, who also claimed he wasn’t a journalist, he presents his work as if it were journalism. But why publish a fictional essay as non-fictional, narrative journalism? And why is “The Lifespan of a Fact”, a book made up of fabricated conversations and scenarios, as a non-fictional insider’s look at the fact-checking process? Why is there no disclaimer? Why not just call it what it is―that is, why not call it fiction?

Because Lifespan wouldn’t fare nearly as well if it was. (Does anyone remember A Million Little Pieces?) Neither would the essay that anchors the book, “What Happens There”, about a Las Vegas teenager who jumped to his death from the roof of the Stratosphere Casino in 2002. Given the subject matter, and D’Agata’s approach to it, it’s clear he wants what he’s saying to pass for reality, at least in the eyes of his readers. Throughout the book Jim Fengal, D’Agata’s fact-checker, asks, “What gives you the authority to introduce half-baked legend as fact and sidestep questions of facticity?” John replies: “It’s called art, dickhead.” Unfortunately, this conviction―that artistic merit must come at the expense of the audience’s integrity―makes reading him more trouble than it’s worth.

Lane Koivu

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04/04/2012

A Flower Opening At Dawn In Singapore

A Flower Opening At Dawn In Singapore

It was a sunny muggy morning, Aya Sekine, well recognized as most swinging, passionate and eclectic Jazz pianist in the region, brought us to her neighborhood, a quiet and hidden district just around the corner from the bustling Orchard Road, where an overnight closed-road runway has appeared most recently with over 150 models to showcase big fashion brands during a fashion festival. In March, Singapore was filled with cultural festivals.

One of the best annual music events in South East Asia, Mosaic Music Festival was also held at Esplanade- Theatres On The Bay, which is Singapore’s national performance arts venue and a non-profit organization. Aya has been invited since its very first year in 2005 and this year she lead her Straight Ahead Quartet including celebrated bassist Christy Smith. Under a slow electric fan, mixed languages spoken in the air as our morning BGM, we had a local Malaysian breakfast Mee Siam, spicy rice vermicelli in curry. Shortly after, in a cafe across the street, we were having a cup of delightfully brewed organic coffee and gluten/wheat-free pancakes with strawberries, bananas and organic raw honey with a scoop of vegan ice-cream.

“Singapore is literally Rojak [a traditional fruit and vegetable salad dish you mix and serve yourself.]” Aya gave us a wink slyly.

Born in Japan, Aya spent half of her childhood in Singapore. She moved to further her study of Jazz piano and improvisation at Berklee College of Music. After spending eight years in New York City, she returned to her second home Singapore with an invitation as the resident pianist of a popular Jazz club around that time. Since then, she has been generating a powerful magnetic field in the live music landscape of Singapore through her performances in various important venues such as INK Club Bar at Fairmont Hotel, Club L’Opera, bar at The Sultan Hotel and especially at Blu Jaz Café where she opened up their music scene through her music project Ayaschool since 2006.

“Blu Jaz Café was the very first place in Singapore where I found Janis Joplin played at that time. I popped in and met Aileen, the owner. After a short while, we had a little meeting and got good vibes immediately enough to go and buy a new drum set the very next day! That’s how it started.”

Aya insists to make a different selection of musicians each time. Even during the sessions, she is opened to welcome potential and motivated young talents. We often witnessed rather interesting mix of audience such as well dressed hotel guests, music lovers, young musicians even students with their instruments gathering all together, getting into the whole ambience, which would rarely happens in big cities these days.“Ayaschool is like an experimental cuisine, making something special out from whatever is in the fridge. So it could be mix of Jazz, Hip hop, Soul, Funk Rock, Brazilian music… We never know how it is going to be, sometimes a great success, sometimes a total disaster… like real life!”

“People tend to compare and complain that we’re rather short of music resources and talents etc… perhaps there’s something to that. But it’s totally nonsense if we start to compare the music scenes here and those in New York City for example. We’re now at the very stage of sowing seeds, nothing is established yet.” A sudden squall came and Aya was radiating her simple, humble, energetic spirit. “I don’t take it as immaturity. Rather ‘Yet’ is good because I believe it’s a great advantage, a great potential and freedom to let something born out of a very simple point.”


AYA SEKINE’S MUST-SEE-PLACES IN SINGAPORE

Real Food (cafe, grocer, books)
“Who are we? We are indie. Real Food is self-run by a team of passionate and stubborn individuals who believe we are what we eat.” 110 Killiney Road Singapore 239549 T: +65 67379516

Blu Jaz Cafe (cafe, live music)
11 Bali Lane Singapore 189848 Tel: +65 62923800

Ayaschool on Saturdays.

Mystic Masseur Hama-san (massage therapy)
The owner’s “Magic-Hands” never stop inspiring people to fly over from overseas only for the purpose of receiving his therapy based on Shiatsu. His treatments cannot be fixed in a certain sort of menu. Simple and spontaneous, he feels and sees through his clients emotions real time and figures out which body work is in need. #01-89 Lucky Plaza 304 Orchard Road Singapore 238863 Tel: +65 62355911

Ai Mitsuda – Graffiti on the wall by (c) Didier Jaba Mathieu 2012

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