mountwizard

[mountwizard]

(not affiliated with MCCY in any way, this was for my final year project at Temasek Polytechnic’s School of Design)

In society, especially in modern times, culture seems to have given rise to a notion that is to be “grown up,” or a standard to which is to be “grown up,” as if there is some cap to growing, which is simply untrue.

And hence, the project 2 ppl, by ppl, 4 ppl, frm ppl. aims to be a platform, a voice, and an instrument for discourse and discussion around the concept/notion and paradigms of growing up, adulthood, its varying definitions, and what/how it might affect one's self—and in turn our collective consciousness moving forward.

[mountwizard]

[mountwizard]

I'm going to miss you.

You — you and all of your endless hallways, you and all of your sleep-inducing classrooms, you and all that is yours.

I'm going to miss all the times I've had to sweat my ass off running, lying to myself that I would be able to make it in time for you.

All the times I burst out laughing, watching my friends and I screw up just as badly as each other at your exercises again.

All the times I cried and panicked, in fear that I would not be able to make your deadlines.

All the times my lecturers reminded me that everything would turn out fine in the end anyway.

It really did.

from          with love,

to 28 & 28A

[mountwizard]

I look up and gaze into the eyes of the giants made of glass and steel, wondering what it was like during the time of my forefathers.

They told tales of fields, greenery, wildlife.

Pristine, untouched nature.

I watch as a brass heron feeds from the stray grass of a deep drain alongside his flock. The ones with feathers seemed to not take any notice of their peculiar new family member. The former billowed steam from his beak and took to the sky as the others followed.

A garden city, shades of jaded green and faded yellow contrast the masses of black, grey and white.

[mountwizard]

Fall doesn't come around this early often.

I'm not complaining. I remember waking up to their feathers again. The way they fall through the air. Swaying, swaying. From side to side. I sat up against the backboard of my bed and fiddled with my hair a little. The cabin smelled of pine and cigarette smoke. The fireplace crackled wearily. Hosea came trotting over and laid down on the bed next to me, then stared at me intently. The innocence in those eyes I could never fathom. 

"You alright, boy?"

He cocked his head to the side ever so slightly, his ears drooped and hanging in the still air around us.

"I don't know."

There were a few moments of silence, then he lowered his head and rested it on my thigh, his eyes sparking a sense of apprehension, almost. I pet him.

Eventually I mustered enough strength to drag myself out of bed, put on my coat, and went outside. The early morning sunlight embraced the first snow gently. The clouds exhaled from my mouth faded in and out between my breaths. I lit up my first stick of the day. I couldn't tell how much time had passed since I came out here. I couldn't tell if time had passed since I came out here. My eyes caught on to something red on the porch in front of me. Those feathers again. They seemed to follow me everywhere. I bent down and picked one of them up. It was weightless, as soft as the snow that it laid upon. It smelled of iron. I put it in my pocket, and just as I did, I heard it again.

This time closer than all the other times before. My eyes shot back and forth at the brush around the cabin. I saw the familiar silhouette dart across between some trees, going deeper into the woods. I scrambled back inside to grab my rifle, then raced off into the thicket after it.

White noise enveloped my ears as I got closer and closer to it. Grainy but not coarse, motionless but engulfing, like a blanket being thrown over my head. I continuously tripped and stumbled over branches and rocks, battling to stay focused on the chase. But alas, after about five minutes into the chase, I lost sight of it. Again.

I turned around defeated, eyes glued to the slush at my feet. I started my journey back to the cabin. But after taking a step, all suddenly went quiet. The silence was deafening. I slowly lifted my head. There she stood. Upright, her hair gently arrect. I felt my body give way under me. I fell flat on the snow. I tried looking up at it, but all I could make out were her feet pacing toward me through the air. I felt a warm wave of darkness wash over me. I closed my eyes and it consumed me.

I woke up to their feathers again. I sat up against the backboard of my bed and swept my hair out of my eyes. The fireplace was crackling jadedly. The cabin smelled of aching and cigarettes. I turned to look out the frosted window by the side of my bed. The first snow was settling in nicely.

Fall doesn't come around this early often.

[mountwizard]

“We’ll figure it out. I’m sure.”

They invited me out to one of their “fun sessions” again. 

This time, however, was to one of their little encampments out on Beyond. The amenities could’ve been worse, to say the very least. I never understood how they saw this as “unwinding.”

On our last night there, the snowstorms had subsided. We sat by the synth-fire pit, with them twiddling and strumming away on their instruments just as they always did. 

“How do you do this?”

“What do you mean?”

He looked up, his hands still beating on his drum.

His metal head cocked to the side with a perplexed look on his face.

“How do you guys keep on doing this? How do you guys keep going with all of this when you know that all that is out there? I mean, just look at it, it’s right there!”

I stretched out my hand violently, pointing at the megalithic pyramid looming over the horizon.

“Hm.”

He shrugged, using his shoulder to nudge his cloak further around his torso. He took another second to answer.

“How do you do this?”

I shook my head, confused at his rebuttal.

“We shoot and kill beings sent by some supernatural figure in the sky in the name of survival, after being brought back to an only ever so slightly familiar world by another supernatural figure in the sky.”

He paused for another second.

“I’m not trying to argue about morality: about who’s right or who’s wrong, or about what the best way forward is. I don’t know. I don’t know anything. And I know I don’t know.”

He turned intently towards me, the warmth in his luminescent eyes embracing me.

“You know?”

I sat back into my chair, the music enveloping me. Bathing me. Cleansing me. 

I think I finally understood.

[mountwizard]

[mountwizard]

[mountwizard]

[mountwizard]

[mountwizard]

596 x 170 mm Large format printer 2021

The first entry in a (hopefully) continuing series of horizontally preposterous and visually disruptive artworks. Literally translating to "long artwork" from German, this absurd collage of faux avant-garde graphics is an instinctive mish-mash of subconscious sensual stimuli. All is unknowable, and all is subjective. This piece is an exploration into that concept; of universal senselessness – a rebellion against the uncompromising nature of the universe.

[mountwizard]

(No.35 is now discontinued: old branding...)

2 minutes, 45 seconds 1280px x 720px 2020 

all is but objective thrusting one’s self into the foray/deeping introspective rumination; the spirit hungers and the above will reveal itself at moments, but only ever so briefly, succintly, sharply the cracks therein had but hidden them do you hear it

[mountwizard]

[mountwizard]

A4 anthology of posters 70gsm copier paper Inkjet printer 2021

Packaged in a folder and printed from home, “I DO JOB AND GET MONEY” is a compilation of prints, graphics & compartmentalised miscellanea by 42(A). << now discontinued... Ran in a print run of only 12 copies. Each folder consisted of a cover poster, as well as a random number and selection of posters from Chloe and Nigel Tan of 42(A)’s discontinued individual 365-day poster projects. Each packaging folder was of a different colour and level of wear, and also came with a random custom designed card, and other little tidbits scattered about like an invoice slip, or a work record card.

[mountwizard]

Gold Crowbar Winner for Book Design, 2020. Title screenprinted, digital printing on Recypal 8″ x 10″ 2019

Burial Hill is an explorative insight into a lesser depicted side of one of Singapore’s proclaimed “sleepy” towns, Toa Payoh. The town has a rich, deep, and lasting relationship with gangs, and the publication seeks to shed more light on what truly encompasses the term “gangster;" their lifestyles, as well as the community, culture, and loved ones around such individuals. It also broaches upon themes of coming of age and empathy, seeking to humanise gangsters and delinquents — a group commonly seen and portrayed as lesser than.