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A photo illustration for an article I wrote on site-specific dance, photographed by Joshua Bessex. (And yes, that’s me.)  
  Read the story here : http://dailyuw.com/archive/2013/06/05/arts-leisure/close-site-specific-dance#.UcKFpGruV29

A photo illustration for an article I wrote on site-specific dance, photographed by Joshua Bessex. (And yes, that’s me.)

Read the story here: http://dailyuw.com/archive/2013/06/05/arts-leisure/close-site-specific-dance#.UcKFpGruV29

Home.

Home.

a preview of some of the clips we shot today. stoked.

a preview of some of the clips we shot today. stoked.

and snap goes my sternum.

The injuries include:

A scarified clavicle

A bruised shin

A shoulder joint that slid fifteen degrees away

A cracked toenail

A shattered patella (scattered within the skin)

A kettle of bubbling cerebrospinal fluid (when my skull hit the paved road)

A fracture on my temple

A head of hair shampooed by the viscous bloodshot liquor

A torn muscle

A broken coccyx.

 

Ah, such torment has my body gone through

when

I fell head over heels for you.


Copyright © Imana Gunawan 

just messing around with Zee Avi’s music on a gloomy Sunday afternoon. Apologies for the blurriness in the beginning.

disclaimer: please respect the creative work of the choreographer by not reusing the choreography, especially without permission.

music: Is This the End by Zee Avi

an improv phrase + a short combo from a piece that I’ve been working on, With No Witnesses.

ps: please excuse the video quality. and yes, I know that jump was really sucky, I swear it could’ve been better.

music: Zero Degrees (3) by Ryoji Ikeda

isn't this what you want?

Who knows what troubles them

                  Who knows who they pray for

                                     Who knows how they tie their shoe

                                                                                                                              or button their shirt

                                                                                                                                or take their coffee
 

Who knows if their eyelashes still curl

framing their razor-sharp gaze

                     Who knows if they linger

                                       Who knows if they linger on you

                                                        Who knows who lingers on you

                                                                           Who knows

                                                                                         Who
 

Anything goes

everything goes.

So touch, say thank you                                                    then go your separate ways

Look back, how very human of you

                 Look back, and see their minuscule silhouettes

They’ll be your grain of salt

                                                                                        trailing.

You’ll be ahead 


Always pacing

                                                                                            never lingering.

 

                                         This is what you want. It is.



Copyright © Imana Gunawan 

enjoying the last fleeting moments of Summer.

enjoying the last fleeting moments of Summer.

one of my favorite places in Seattle. 

one of my favorite places in Seattle. 

dad in front of my house.

dad in front of my house.

you’ve been hazed.

you’ve been hazed.

i like scarves.

i like scarves.

the photographs are falling.

the photographs are falling.

burgundy-brown hair.

burgundy-brown hair.

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As you can probably tell, I was not born to be an artist. Anyway, I still like these and I like drawing birds. That will be all. X

boondocks

“Solitude is bliss” is a line

that doesn’t belong in a poem

or a traffic sign or a prose,

or a chalk scribble on a café’s

menu board atop the counter.

It belongs in a leaves’ bristle

in a bird’s whistle

or a ripple

brought forth by a droplet of dew

on one shy Spring morning.

It deserves to be etched on

a street-side mural, impressed

in icing on a toddler’s birthday cake

or scribbled on a broken-hearted man’s

morning coffee cup

maybe jotted down on a ripped notebook paper

folded and passed along absent-mindedly through

a junior high classroom.

It is a fleeting thought, a lover’s whisper, a pandemic

word of mouth

a blaring roar through the city streets sardined with busy

souls

A reminder that none of us are alone in this

crowded lonesome little world of ours.


Copyright © Imana Gunawan

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A few weeks before I left the beloved country of Indonesia, I asked a friend of mine to make me an artwork to decorate my new place here in Seattle. The only request I gave her was that it needs to be a series of six A4-sized pieces, the rest were absolutely up to her to decide. Then Nadhira Riezkya (or Dea), being the creative awesome soul that she is, conjured up the artwork featured on the photos above. It is basically a large print cut up into six pieces. Every component of the print represents something that is connected to me, be it my interest in dancing, my beloved green boots, even my cats. Needless to say, I am ecstatic with the result and can’t wait to have it hung up on my wall (I shall post photos when I have done so!).

A few words from the artist:

it’s a final look of a commission work for a friend, it took me 3 weeks in the making. Drawn all the details on Adobe Ideas and edited in corelDraw x4. I enjoyed the process so much since she was a very dear friend to me. every details relate to her including her 5 cats and her family in the polaroid frame. can you spot Mira, Kerry, Rusty, Coco and Milo?

I am really so impressed by her talent and proud to have her as a friend. Most of all, I’m glad to have someone to count on whenever I need a dose of art in my life! Look out guys, I’ll probably feature her again sometime soon.

To check out more of her works, check out her blog! Click below:

Nadhira Riezkya

all images are courtesy of Nadhira Riezkya.


xx

-i

introducing my babies. forever possessing the effervescent ability to turn Cinderella’s slippers into shards of broken glass.

introducing my babies. forever possessing the effervescent ability to turn Cinderella’s slippers into shards of broken glass.

to be merry

Whenever I feel blue,

I like to drink coffee with extra

cinnamon powder

walk around barefoot on creaky wooden floors and

put on red Converses worn in with memories.

I’d walk around with earphones

on and pretend my life is a movie with a jazzy art deco

tune for the soundtrack.

Every so

often I’d glance at my reflection on windows

and realize that my sunglasses really suit my face

I would find a bench to sit on and see lives passing by while I imagine

intricate backstories for intriguing persons

then I’d think

back to my woes and oh noes and golly gee

damns

and board on a train of thought destined to jump off a cliff to a monstrous river

raucous with crashing waves

Then I’d remember.

I’d remember that I am made of stardust

that the atoms on the tips of my eyelashes start to exist while a star ceased to

that my cracked knuckles are made of billion year old carbon

that my broken toenail used to be part of a constellation

that paint the night sky.

I’d drown myself in that rosy thought

and feel okay.

I’d feel okay.


It’s so easy to be happy, it’s almost disgraceful to be sad.




Copyright © Imana Gunawan

You know what would make a really great present? A wooden shelf, possibly mahogany, filled with Vonnegut. Literally everything Vonnegut: books, speech transcripts, articles, quotes, pictures, short stories, what have you. I would want that shelf in my house, then decorate it with fake yellow leaves and white lights.

I actually would rather have multiple mahogany shelves filled with all my favorite writers but when it comes down to it, Vonnegut is definitely my top choice.

You know what would make a really great date? Reading books. Literally just taking turns reading out loud a snippet of a novel or a chapter or possibly a short story. Preferably by Vonnegut, although reading Gabriel Garcia Marquez or Bukowski/Neruda’s poems will do as well. But reading books. Reading books together. That would be a real nice date. Not a first date, or even a third; fifth is more like it though for me.

I think every blog should definitely have at least one completely random post. This is mine, by the way. Just had to put my thoughts out there, I guess. Toodle-oo