Harits Rasyid Paramasatya. 20. majoring in fine arts. aspiring photographer. Indonesian. this is a collection of images from my daily life and my works.
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Anonymous asked: Hello, suka deh baca postingan2 lo di tumblr, lo cerdas! sama tweet tweet lo juga, even sometimes too harsh haha
Haha makasih banyak anon. Gue aslinya lembut kok orangnya, cuma harsh kalo lagi dibutuhkan aja.
Anyway, beberapa hari ini gue lagi merasa fucked up banget gara-gara tugas akademis. Ada orang yang bilang gue cerdas bener-bener nambah semangat dan rasa percaya diri gue. Makasih banyak sekali lagi :”
I miss having a proper family dinner. It has been a while since I had one of those sit-down-by-the-table kind of meal. The kind of meal I used to have in my grandparents house when I was a kid. Where the family members sat down by a table with cutleries arranged for everyone, and food waiting under a plastic mesh hood. There would be a bowlful of rice, at least one kind of meat, two side-dishes and vegetables. We would take food from the platters to our dish in order of our age, elders first, or guests if there’s any, then the uncle and aunts, then us the kids. The conversation would be about what the family members are up to, small, but important, talks. That second cousin who is hospitalized, this friend of an uncle who is a mutual friend of another uncle who just had her first child, that important test a cousin is going to have next week. Those kind of conversations. Because politics and religion are for coffee, not dinner. Here and there would be quite outdated pop culture references added by the uncles, the older generations would laugh while the younger would just try to fake the realest laugh. Or just sigh. We would have fruits after that, whatever kind that is in season. Sometimes there was cake, or puddings, whether they’re bought or homemade. I really miss those dinners, it is not as tasty as a fancy restaurant meal, sometimes the food is not what I want and I can’t ask for anything else, the conversation is not as funny, exhilarating, or deep as the one I usually have while dining with my friends, and sometimes I have to sit through lectures about views of morality that contradicts with my own and I can’t say no. But there is something that I cannot get while dining with my extended family by a table, a sense of warmth, of a place that is familiar, of acceptance, that is different with the kind I get when dining with anyone else, everywhere else. I’m not saying that this feeling is better than the others. But that feeling is unique and I really do miss that feeling. And of course, the free food.
Saturday, 30th of March 2013.
I suddenly realized my parents are old. It was when we’re having dinner in a mall. It was your usual family night out. They were bored and us kids had nothing better to do. So we decided to go to a mall to have dinner. As usual, we bickered about the restaurant we’re going to dine in. My mom was tired of seafood, my brother craved sashimi while I was sick of it, meanwhile my dad was rebutting my arguments to dine french. After a while, we settled for fish and chips. As I sat myself across my mom, I realized something. I noticed exhaution in her eyes, and weariness in her shoulders. I gazed to my dad and saw the same things in his cheeks, which were showing an early sign of sagging. Those weren’t there last time I went home to see them, those weren’t even there when they yelled at me for being so slow an hour ago.
While placing our orders, I came to a sudden realization that my parents are not going to be here forever. Sure I’ve known that they’re human and are going to die SOMEDAY since I was about twelve. But today I realized that the day is not somewhere far from reality, but closer than I’m comfortable with.
While we were munching our appetizer (beef nachos with extra jalapeños), a sense of anxiety enveleoped me. Would I be able to support them in their old age? I’m their first son, because I had no sister I’ll be expected to take care of them. A sense of regret for choosing fine arts major instead of law like my dad wanted appeared. I most certainly would have more money to support them if I were to became a lawyer than an artist. I started to feel insecure, what if I’m a failure in their eyes? What if I had disappointed them? This left me lost in my thoughts, making me let my brother ate my share of nachos.
The main course (dory fillet covered in oat with sautéed potatoes for me and dad, while my mom and brother had sandwiches) came, and I tried to join the small talks. We chatted about how my mom met the mother of my high-school mate during a visit to a hospital, about the average grade in my brother’s class, about how long its been since I paid a visit to my grandparents. I politely listened, genuinely interested but not participating more than giving the perfunctory “yes” or “no”. I thought about whether I would be able to make my parents proud, barely tasting the soft, buttery, fillet in my mouth. Would I be able to live up to their expectation? Would I have to sacrifice my ambition for theirs’? How much I’d have to sacrifice? As a teenager I’ve never gave these question much thought, I just thought “this is my life, I have to get to do what I want, I have to be what I wanted to be”. But as I’m approaching my 21st birthday I’m starting to think about what my parents thought about me, about their hopes and expectation for me, and whether I have disappointed them or made them proud. While I cleaned up the last morsels of potatoes from my plate, I was torn in two, a half of me insisted that I am under no obligation to live up to their expectation, while the other half said that the least that I can do to repay them for raising me is to make them feel like they were doing a good job at it.
After the waitress took away our empty plates, I still haven’t reached a conclusion. I proposed ordering dessert to give me more time to think, but it was getting late and my brother wanted to check out the bookstore. So we promptly paid the bill and left. I tried to keep on thinking but my mind quickly wanders to the sale sign in the first clothing store we passed by, and suddenly I stopped worrying, turning to my dad to ask him whether he would bought me some t-shirts.
A video performance made in collaboration with Thariq Danumaya.
Influence/Pengaruh is about how we as an individual are influenced by two types of culture: local culture and global culture.
Local culture, such as family values and folklores, are handed down to us by our parents and elders. The process of transmission is slow but intimate. This is represented by directly painting “parang” batik pattern onto the skin.
Global culture, such as pop culture and consumerism, are fed to us by mass media. The process of transmission is rapid but distorted, as we and the society directly around us never experienced the culture firsthand in their places of origin. This is represented by projecting glitched footages of various foreign culture that we’ve experienced while growing up like japanese animes, columbian telenovela, and hollywood movies.
Woh ga kerasa Januari udah masuk akhir bulan. Kantong mulai kering, tapi tanah masih basah. Tantangan gue masih baru mau masuk minggu kedua tapi ide udah mulai kering. Kebetulan waktu blogwalking ke blog seorang teman, gue melihat satu sistem yang oke banget untuk mencari ide dalam posting blog. Berangkat dari ide utama yang ditweet. Ini kayaknya akan cocok untuk gue karena gue jauh lebih cerewet di twitter daripada di blog. So here goes.
Sebenarnya masuk akal marah karena melihat orang lain melakukan sesuatu yang buruk, walaupun kita pernah melakukan hal yang serupa. Karena kadang kita lupa akan hal-hal buruk yang pernah kita lakukan. Bisa jadi karena otak kita secara sistematis merepresi hal-hal yang kita sesali, bisa juga karena kita terlalu banyak melakukan hal-hal buruk sehingga satu hal buruk bisa terselip begitu saja di celah ingatan tanpa diketahui. Bisa juga kita masih ingat akan hal buruk itu, dan masih berusaha melupakannya. Lalu kita marah kepada orang lain yang membuat kita teringat kembali akan hal itu. Bisa jadi kita berusaha menebus rasa bersalah dan dosa. Atau mungkin kita kira dengan marah kepada keburukan seseorang, orang-orang lain akan mengira kita tidak mungkin pernah melakukan hal yang serupa. Karena kita marah.
Tapi, apapun alasan kita marah karena melihat orang lain melakukan sesuatu yang buruk sementara kita pernah melakukan hal yang serupa, kita hanya akan menjadi bahan tertawaan orang-orang yang mengetahui akan perbuatan buruk kita. Melihat seseorang yang lupa, berusaha lupa, atau berusaha menutupi kejelekanya sendiri lalu bersikap sebagai pengusung kebaikan saat kita tahu kejelekan-kejelekannya adalah sebuah ironi yang sedikitnya mengundang sebuah senyuman sinis.
Bukan berarti kita harus membiarkan orang lain berbuat keburukan yang pernah kita buat, karena membiarkan keburukan hampir sama buruknya dengan melakukannya sendiri. Tetapi sebelum mengangkat panji kebaikan dan berkoar sebagai penjaga moral, ada baiknya kita berkaca, mengaku, dan menyesal dahulu sebelumnya. Karena melarang orang lain melakukan keburukan yang pernah kita lakukan tanpa mengakui bahwa kita juga pernah melakukan hal tersebut hanya akan membuat hati kita busuk sedikit demi sedikit. Dan cara untuk menghentikan pembusukan itu adalah dengan mengakui fakta bahwa kita pernah berbuat buruk, atau dengan cara memaklumi orang lain membuat keburukan yang sama. Pilih satu juga cukup. Percaya deh, karena gue pernah melakukan hal yang sama.
Gue suka liat tulisan lo buat 30 hari bercerita is, gue suka liatin lo nulis tentang kehidupan lo yang agak lame gitu.
Kita tertawa tanpa lelucon, karena kalian sumber jenaka
Kita bersedih tanpa menangis, karena kalian penyerap air mata
Kita bercerita tanpa suara, karena kalian pembaca pikiran
Kita berpetualang tanpa berjalan, karena kalian pewujud ucapan
Kita tidak bercinta tapi kita begitu mesra
Kita tidak sedarah tapi kita bagi suka dan duka
Kita tidak sejalan tapi kita sepemikiran
Kita tidak sempurna tapi kita tetap bahagia
Ketika kalian telah menua dan beristirahat, bersama dengan pasangan dan kelahiran
Aku tidak akan berjalan di tempat, menangkap harapan dan keinginan
Biarkan nasib dan waktu coba memisahkan
Karena aku yakin kita tetap menjadi teman.
Pertama-tama gue ingin minta maaf udah bolos berhari-hari dari tantangan 30 Hari Bercerita, sebelumnya ga pernah bolos tapi sekalinya bolos langsung seminggu gitu :’)
Jadi setelah perjuangan melawan kekurangan sumber daya, bencana alam, waktu, ruang, dan rasa malas. Gue dan rekan terpercaya, Torik, berhasil menyelesaikan UAS Studio Intermedia 3 yayayayay tepuk tangan semuanya~~~
Ini adalah beberapa potongan dari video performance yang berjudul INFLUENCE/PENGARUH, intinya tentang bagaimana diri lo itu adalah potongan-potongan dari berbagai kebudayaan yang disampaikan baik secara langsung turun-temurun atau melalui media massa. Nanti kapan-kapan gue unggah video utuhnya. mwah.
I don’t like love stories. I don’t like the way the characters are described. I don’t like how the authors described the protagonists with her delicate physics and his charm. I don’t like how strong he is and how pure her heart is. I don’t like the way she is in need of rescue and I don’t like that he is a heartless man who only there for the money.
I don’t like love stories. I don’t like the plot. I don’t like the awkward first encounter. I don’t like descriptions of love at first sight. I don’t like how the heroine misunderstood the hero and hate him. I don’t like it when the guy is an anti-hero and the girl is an independent woman. I don’t like it the other way around. I don’t like it any other way either.
I don’t like love stories. I don’t like it when they slowly grow fonder of each other. I don’t like it when their love triumphed. I don’t like the small moments that led into a big plot device. I don’t like it when their love overcome every obstacle in their life. I don’t like it when it falls apart and fails miserably either. I don’t like the every possible outcome of love stories.
I don’t like love stories. I don’t like the fact that it made me have an idealized impression about love. I don’t like it because it made me hope that my own love story follows a certain scenario. I don’t like it when it made me feel bad about my own love story. Most of all, I don’t like love stories because reality have made me realize that there is no such thing as a storybook ending.
