Image Credit: ArchDaily & Ben Blossom

Follies of any sort are almost extinct, especially in pragmatic Singapore. All we do is work work work, busy busy and busy ourselves. And that's an especially awful notion to contemplate, especially when more often than not, we simply hate what we're doing.

I guess that's why I'm so drawn to this project. It's sheer simplicity (both in form and function) make it so endearing. It's the perfect spot to escape from reality, especially when one has a Monet-worthy view to gaze at. I suppose that's what it's like to live within, or near the Botanic Gardens. I love how it frames up, and highlights what I suppose would be the loveliest views of the garden.

1. Wes Anderson - From Above 2. Stanley Kubrick - One-Point Perspective

Image Credit: Pedro Pegenaute, Tuomas Uusheimo, Derryck Menere via ArchDaily

I love how the old structure's history is so respected, not only through the rawness that was preserved, but also through how the addition alludes to the building's past function as a shipping warehouse. Neri&Hu are truly one of the best architects to emerge from China.

"Humanae [by Angelica Dass] is a chromatic inventory, a project that reflects on the colors beyond the borders of our codes by referencing the PANTONE� color scheme."

I'm not quite sure how I would like to interpret this particular project. On one hand, Ms Dass does a fantastic (and might I add, a rather thorough) job at highlighting that [skin] colour is nothing more than pigmentation, that diversity and variety are quintessential features to human existence. Yet I can't help but be slightly bothered about how skin colour is being tied to the Pantone colour scheme. It is almost dehumanising, especially when one notes that "[the] project's objective is to record and catalog all possible human skin tones", as if colour, and by extension the people that society have come to define them by can be treated as mere items that belong in a record.

And because I don't know what to make of this, I'll simply term it as remarkably interesting. But that doesn't do the work any justice. Hmm.

I spent a few hours at the museum yesterday. I really enjoyed it.

A particularly beautiful concept to ease the pain that is conjured up by the brain when the thought of taking medication (and by extension being ill) arises.

It's lovely to see local designers coming up with simple, yet deeply impactful design like this. That being said, in my opinion, it would be nicer if the paper used to contain the medicine had a little bit of prints on them - colours can affect the mind's perceptions on things. Minimalism need not be bland and colourless.

Image Credit: Iwan Baan & Dezeen

So what if the fa�ade is merely decorative? I find it really interesting that the entire building becomes a work of art (or a sculpture, depending on how specific you'd like to be) simply because of the material that it is draped in - chain mail. I also wonder if the chain mail sways in the wind - such an interactive fa�ade would definitely add to the aesthetic appeal of the place, as well as further define the venue's purpose as an art/sculpture gallery.

Image Credit: Masaya Yoshimura & Designboom

Nendo has been producing some of the cleanest and most distilled works that I have ever seen - the very simple idea of walking around in a pair of [Camper] shoes has been presented in a literal but extremely beautiful manner of shoes trodding around the store.

I'm really quite amazed by the simplicity and pureness of this idea!

Image Credit: Flickr User mightymightymatze via ArchDaily

Peter Zumthor is truly a master at creating spaces that while architecturally seem simple and sparse, are able to evoke so much emotions within an individual; from the introspection that is encouraged through his 2011 Serpentine Gallery Pavilion, to his iconic work at Therme Vals.

I simply love how frosted glass is used here - it is a material that I find enthralling, it reveals, yet hides, and the quality of light that it allows in is simply ethereal.

Image Credit: CityNomads

Entering the space where the exhibition was held at (the 3rd floor of Hermes at Liat Tower), I was rather surprised to find what I saw - the exhibition was literally the room itself. That wasn't something that I took notice of when I found out about the installation via the Straits Times (I was in camp though during that period of time, maybe that's why I didn't quite read it properly).

I still remember why I wanted to see Moment and Eternity the moment I found out about it - the rich patterns that evoked traditional Japanese imagery found on kimonos. The richness of colours was also another thing that I wanted to experience first hand. I enjoyed the former when I visited, but not so much of the latter - upon seeing the installation, I noticed that the prints (especially those on the floor) were worn away. That was when I realised that transience and the impact of our actions were themes that the artist wanted to convey. Quite impactful indeed, especially in today's interconnected world.

That being said, I was a little disappointed that the installation was not as immersive as I envisaged it to be; I thought that I would be literally be surrounded by a riot of colours and patterns - that wasn't the case because of the architecture of the space.

Moment and Eternity is an installation at Liat Tower's Hermes, and is available for viewing from 20 April through 3 June.

Image Credit: ArchDaily & Pedro Pegenaute

A very nice example of how tradition can merge with the modern, in this case, how Neri & Hu managed to incorporate elements of the Chinese courtyard home into a modern structure. My only gripe is that the house seems excessively large, but then again, wealth has the tendency to make itself known.

Image Credit: ArchDaily

I love how the old fa�ade was weaved so interestingly into the modern addition, almost as if it were a piece of art hung on a gallery wall. The interplay of light in the spaces of this museum is also quite nice - especially how it shines though the translucent material (I'm not sure if it's plastic or frosted glass).

Image Credit: Dominic Wilcox

I have nothing else to add, except that I'm truly amazed by how creative this artist is to come up with the concept of using a watch to illustrate the constantly changing social issues around us.

Image Credit (in order of appearance): The Doll Flowers, Ginkgo Telegraph

While nothing is permanent in this world, and transience is inevitable, for just that split second, the art of bonsai manages to capture the essence of control through the very delicate balance between the natural and manmade.

I'm particularly intrigued to by the work of a Japanese botanist - Kobayashi, of whom I have just discovered via Remodelista, particularly by how he has reinvented this very traditional art form into something that is both true to its roots, yet has a very modern feel to it; a nouveau version. Very nice indeed.

Image Credit: The Architect's Newspaper

I can't help but agree with the words of the article that came with the above photos, that this building by Gordon Bunshaft is a "masterpiece of Modernism". It ticked all the right boxes - a lofty, but pragmatic volume, a great deal of transparency, the art of the defining mid-century master Bertoia, and last but perhaps most significant, it's almost comically large safe that faced the street elevation. I mean, it was not only one of the most perfect exercises of modernism, this building is also a perfect publicity exercise - suggesting both transparency and impenetrability, both of which are excellent traits for a bank.

Its a pity that it's present state is a far cry from its sleek heyday.

You can't see much from that one picture of music boxes (no. 5), but there's a large store in Otaru, Hokkaido called Otaru Orgel (apparently an "orgel" is オルゴール orugōru, the japanese word for a music box, thanks Wikipedia). There that I discovered a tune that was once lost to my memory - Sakura, Sakura, which I first heard from a keychain that we bought in Tokyo more than a decade ago. Beautiful shop, beautiful tunes in each octagonal jewel.