Tommy Peters' Bicycles

Monkey God! Someone said an artist is merely a scribe, and her intended message is immaterial but what the viewer interprets from her piece becomes its reality. Once her art is born, her soul exits her body. The artist does not own her work. Hence, she cannot ascertain who gives it life or takes it apart. Her job description is giving birth to her next piece, period!  Monkey God is a sublime piece of oil born in the era of the Darwinian ape where Nietzsche proclaims God is Dead. Hitler moves ethnic cleansing to its logical conclusion. At the same time, Freud pushes psychoanalysis toward a vibrant sexual revolution with the mantra 'If it feels good, do it. This culminates in Krishna-consciousness for Brahmavamso to offer suicide bombers some monk magic to align their mental issues with dharma rather than drama. Twelvers' Well He disappears as a child into a well while attending the funeral of the eleventh, then ascends into a state of occultation. He remains fo

Carrying on from where they had left off at Jonker Walk, Malacca (2015) Kiehl's Wall Mural has now (2019) descended upon the Silang neighborhood. It paints over the sputum of our vibrant betel-leafers.  Art trivia is coming at you from Spitters' Paradise at Soong Kee's heritage wall in a gloriously showy mode for art critics to chime in their two cents. It embodies our diverse cultures habituating in Chinatown. The simplistic flat two-dimensional approach isn't without reason. It is convoluted to be sucked into a three-dimensional vortex of, say, the weed inspired Kobra fleshed out by Eduardo, our South American cousin.  It is safe to assume the Brazilian and our brothers under the bridge are using the same bong with a different plant. Yet, they possess an eye for graffiti-like no other. But then, that is what we do with the minimalist approach in Kiehl's offering. It wakes up the child in us and avoids all paths which may invoke the wrath of our local censorshi