This layman, T. C. Chew, has been (and is still) trying to make sense of his works & journeys to the people around him, since he entered and returned from The Zone (with pink lights) in 1988. but the harder he tries to be vivid & honest with his thoughts, the more inaccessible and/or self-defeating his works become.
he encourages his faithful observers to invest their precious brain juices in his works for another 2 decades. a few years ago, he was lost (again) in the texts of The Bhagavad Gita, Tarkovsky’s Sculpting in Time, Bresson’s Notes on Cinematography, Deleuze/Guattari, Artaud, Sontag’s The Pornographic Imagination.
lately he almost burnt them all in his trash bin, along with his boxes & bottles of risperidone & fluoxetine. he is accepting the fact that his films are neither commercial nor artistic. they are most probably best suited as unlisted video clips at some eternal spot in the cyberspace.
