The corridor
The sketch was drawn when I first joined the school. It pictures the school corridor at a particular recess, with flows of people surging through, teachers and students inclusive. Through depicted as a particular scene, it gives the general idea on how a regular school day is like. I’ve always liked to observe these moments with details. How old chums chit-chat with one another, how students carry their books and bags ready for their next lesson, how hungry ones squeeze through the crowd and lunge towards the snack bar – the aura of the loving community never fails to console my frustrated soul. Moreover, the corridor has always been a special place to me. It was where I first walked through when I was still a visiting primary student. It was the passage that linked me to a whole new chapter of my life – secondary school. It also was the very place where I bumped into my best friend, literally, who was darting for his next class. Suffice it to say, the corridor is a tunnel of memories.
My Art Teacher
I first met my art teacher when I was Form One. She gave me the impression as the living incarnation of Athena and Muse. Weird as it may sound, she was always full of ideas, and she never lacked the skill to do them justice. The rigor and devotion she held in her discipline impressed me. In a way she also acted as the origin of all my artistic ideas. All my artistic output worth mentioning, if anything, stemmed from this very teacher, including this scrapbook I’ve compiled. To say the least, she was the exemplar displaying apparent, not to say all, attributes of a good artist. With that signature smile that I’d taken pains to capture, she reminds me that a world with human art is never cold. Never.