Today the entire Freedom Committee team bugged out of the office earlier for our ( 3 newcomers, including myself ) welcome party. Certainly its but a good excuse for everyone to get sloshed but the Japanese do take their drinking very seriously !
The lowermost photograph just above this text shows ( from L to R ), Matsui-san, my lighting, rendering and compositing chief, next Morita-san, director of Freedom Project, and Sajiki-san, whom together with Morita-san were the genius minds behind Kakurenbo, the award winning short animation film.

With Freedom 1 releasing on the 24th this month and its preorders hitting the number one spot ( beating Stand Alone Complex, yeah ! ) on many Japanese websites I suppose there's reason for some celebration afterall. Next stop, Freedom 2.

Get yours today.

Some cool stuff that comes along with work on Freedom Project : 1) My email address is myname@steamboy.net, which I am more than ok with; 2) Otomo ( yes, the dude who created that somewhat famous animation Akira ) came by the studio yesterday, tying up some loose ends on a new animation film soon to be released. His work desk by the way, is really untidy...ha.



Here at Sunrise Studios Ogikubo work has commenced on episode 2 of Freedom, with epsiode 1 scheduled for dvd release later this month. Today as the entire Freedom team sat down with the director to run through the storyboard it dawned on me that I was the only foreigner working on Freedom. I wonder if I should feel hououred or alienated, perhaps a bit of both. Its no mistake however that my companions are some of the most talented animators here in Japan, many of whom have worked on Otomo's Steamboy; my animation "supervisor" is a kid 21 years old.

So...back to work.

Browsing through a dvd shop in Shinjuku this evening I was pleasantly surprised to see Freedom Previsited soldout only a day after its release; I suspect the same to happen for Series one , slated for a late November release. Order yours today from Amazon Japan ! Haha. I was thinking wishfully that perhaps I might be entitled to a free copy when I start work but I ordered one anyway to boost Freedom Committee's sales. What's left to do is just the anxious wait for Otomo to pop by the studio...

Blue Skies.

The year was 1989. I was on a usual weekend family visit to my grandparents place. It was totally mundane and largely routine; we would always arrive in the mid afternoon, have dinner prepared by my grandmother, and then head home around 9 or 10 o'clock. But something that would transpire that evening made it an unforgettable day etched forever in my memory. My youngest uncle, whom me and my brother liked immensely because of his huge collection of Japanese comics and cartoons, was once again poised to impress us with his latest acquisitions. Popping the laserdisc ( I still remember vividly those huge and cumbersome laserdiscs, awkward by today's standards but state of the art then ) into the player as the film started, the television screen was filled by the image of a huge and hulking crater, as a bold red title appeared.

The film was Akira. Neither me nor my brother had ever seen anything as devastatingly powerful and at once shocking; indeed, few animation films past and present can challenge the sheer awe and depth of this groundbreaking animation masterpiece. I was immediately hooked; I must have lived and breathed Akira for years to come, watching the film countless times and poring over the comics, its imaginative and detail artwork the stuff I wish I could one day, if even just a tiny percentage of that beauty, recreate.

Fast forward 17 years into the future, I am now 27 and on a film scholarship here in Tokyo, Japan. Its a cold October evening and I'm rushing around like a madman in Ogikubo, searching frantically for the studio where I was supposed to attend an interview for a job that should have started 30 minutes ago.

"Where the hell have you been ? Get the f**k outta here, we do not entertain late comers." These nightmarish images, soon to become reality I thought, flashed over and over again in my mind.

* * *

One hour later. I emerged from the studio, bowing profusely. The director said he liked the work he saw on my website, hopes for me to begin work with them soon.

The name of the studio, stuck nonchalantly on the door, read Steamboy Committee; the name of the assignment that I am soon to embark on : Project Freedom; character designer; Katsuhiro Otomo.

I'm greatly honoured to join the Project Freedom committee, standing on the shoulder of giants. To me, the chance of working on a Otomo Katsuhiro film is nothing short of a dream come true. I live a blessed life, I think.

Here are the 300kbs, 500kbs, and 1Mbs previews of Freedom.

In an era when most folks are eagerly abandoning those mouldy film cameras for their sparkling, high tech digital counterparts I seem to be taking a journey in the opposite direction, shooting on my 2nd hand Mamiya 645 medium format camera. Been an absolute sucker for rich, intense tones and that inexplicable warmth of celluloid my Mamiya delivers, and then some. Certainly, digital is here to stay and I adore my Nikon D70s, but for that classy age old look that is film, I'll still put my trust in those spiffy silver halides. Big thanks to Takeshi for scanning the negs.

A seemingly perpetual drizzle that lasted 3 days washed away the arid summer heat and with it came numbing, piercing gails, the sure harbinger of autumn, rattling the flimsy wooden window panels of my old house. Interestingly, this transitional change in the seasons, though happening a thousand miles away from home, brings back very vivid memories of Singapore, rainy days where the temperature drops and huge storm clouds would loom in the sky, casting a bluish, melancholic mood over everything and one could almost feel the rain before the first drops have even started to fall.

Am I homesick ? Perhaps. Or maybe its just because it rains so seldom here in Tokyo (comparatively) that I relish those quiet moments of lucidity, that few precious seconds when everything seems to stand still, transporting me, albeit fleetingly, back home.

Some screengrabs off my recently completed graduation film project "Umi no Namida", where I tripled as cameraman/cinematography, storyboard artist, as well as editor. For any filmmaker there's always the indescribable rush of excitment and pleasure as one watches the film take shape slowly during the editing stage, so I guess those all-nighters hadn't gone to waste.

Kyoto/Osaka/Nara trip - Quite simply in two words; beauty and tranquilty. Think breathtaking shrines and temples, and then some.

Some production photos from the locations of my final year film project. More updates coming soon.

A recent 16mm film shoot filling up 2 weekends have had me appreciate the value of sleep in a way I had not since the army days; let's hope at least the rushes turn out decent. As we wrap up things on this shoot preproduction starts for my final year project, in between a serious and earnest lookout for a job opening here in Tokyo. Amidst these hustling events just as I am about to lose sense of all time and purpose an appropriately timed present from my Korean sharemate ushers me back to one of my most cherished creative inspiration; a book procured from a 2nd hand book store; a Iwai Shunji's Love Letter photobook, for less than 1.50 singapore dollars. To me, its true worth can hardly ever be calculated.

On planet Tokyo, people travel to work in elevators. I mean lifts. No I mean cars damn it. But cars are elevators. So are lifts cars too ? Or are elevators lifts ? I'm confused !!!!

I could have just died of esctacy right there in Shinkiba's club Ageha on Friday when Paul Van Dyk finished up his dizzying 3 hour set with the mind blowing tunes from his magnum opus track "For An Angel". PVD me anytime, anywhere.

The annual retreat back into wilderness and the embrace of everything natural continues this year with a 5 day travel itinerary to Takasaki in the Gunma Perfecture, hometown of my very good friend Takeshi. Here ample thanks and gratitude must be appropriated to my hosts Takeshi+Kojima whom without them this trip would never have been possible. We travelled far and wide for hours to distant mountains and waterfalls, cabbage farms so huge and wide it was like standing in the middle of the world; quiet, undiscovered villages that could only have appeared in quaint old Japanese films. One night a miraculously timed, passing glance into the starry skies had us catching a beautiful, long tailed shooting star. What are the odds.



Takeshi's father is a farmer so every trip back to Takasaki is like a dietary detox session; an astonishing variety of homegrown vegetables are eaten and meat consumption drops to a virtual zero.



Kojima attempts a Kodak moment.



The Ito residence.





No, I didn't digitally enhanced the colours on these flowers; they were of the very same intensity I saw with my own eyes, but Takeshi quickly informs : "Erm..these are actually the flowers of...weeds." Killjoy.

Takeshi+Kojima+loadsa'cactus.

Bloody crazies Vol II. Pizzacato5ive art directs a soon to be released print ad for the Takashimaya NAC scholarship. Too radical perhaps for MITA, but stylish nontheless. Photography by Kenneth.



Bloody crazies these blokes. Image courtesy of Pizzacato5ive.

Babes galore, rush hour in Shibuya station. This is but only half of the entire ad spread.

I don't ever remember seeing a Macdonald's print ad as hip as this one in our ( Singapore ) Mac's. Not even remotely close. Simple and clean, yet screaming coolness, its interesting how a mere Macdonald's tray sheet can tell you about a country's culture and fashion sense ( or lack thereof ).

My second trip to Miyazaki's Ghibli Museum. I must have been too excited during my first visit to have missed thess 3 blokes perched on the top of the entrance signboard. Charming folks.

Revisits to familiar tourists' spots like the Meiji Jingu and Shibuya's 109 junction as I accompanied my 2 friends Gabriel and Waimeng from Singapore had me tuning my accustomed eyes to little hidden nooks and corners, delightful sights I never knew existed; indeed, god is in the details.

I would like to take some comfort in believing that the jetlag suffered from the flight back to Tokyo after my annual Singapore holiday is the genuine cause of my recent bumming and inactivity in all matters big and small ( school doesn't start till the 2nd week of April. I think. ), but a full week would be pushing it. even for someone particularly susceptible to disruptions in their circadian rhythm. Its astonishing how a mere 3 weeks of indulgence in convenient Singlish ( there's virtually zero chance of communicating in english here in Tokyo, much less singlish for that matter ) and the all too familiar, snug comfort zone can do to one's hitherto half-f**ked Japanese; it was as if my inner brain functions have been all this while waiting for the opportune moment to steal back, realign their native, singlish languaged neurons from the spots where the Japanese *once* occupied.



I was a tourist by the time I touched down in Narita; already I could foresee nightmarish days when school starts, awkward lost in translation moments, but we'll deal with that as it comes along. Before crunch time sets in I think I'll just catch up on a few more dvds, yes please.

As far as I can remember I've always had bad things happen to my everytime I board a flight, bizzare as it seems. Take for example my first momentous trip out of Singapore to LA for the Siggraph convention in 1999. As our plane was descending to LAX I started making out ( it was a window seat ) pinpricks of red, flashing lights all over the runways and no, they weren't guidelights but the entire LA fire department waiting to douse out our plane which incidentally had a leak on its wing and was just waiting to explode into tiny little bits, myself a part of that. Great.



The 2nd time was on a photography job to Brunei with my boss in 2004, 10 minutes after the plane took off my ears started hurting really badly and I was fully expecting blood to come pouing out any second, genuinely fearing for my life. I later found out the excruciating episode was due to the plane ascending too quickly ( due to the short flight time the plane ascends faster than long flights ) and the change in air pressure wrecking havoc on my ears. Now the return flight wasn't too comfy either.

Finally, during my first trip back to Singapore from Japan last year, I yes, lost my wallet at customs 10 minutes before last call. I was tripping, almost turned into a raving madman just waiting to get arrested by airport security and had to settle for home minus my wallet, with all my important documents inside. Just minutes before take off this angelic, beautiful Japanese airport attendent raced down the aisle and handed me my precious. Darn. Should've gotten her number.

So, what's going to happen on today's flight back to Singapore ?

*UPDATED 24TH FEBUARY* Either the gods or someone must have cursed me to suffer a life time of inescapable, horrible fates everytime I board flights because it has happened again : I missed a perfectly good opportunity to meet this beautiful japanese lady Kiyomi ( now living in LA but was in Tokyo to stay with my ex-sharemates Takeshi and Kojima ), heck, she probably even arrived at their house right about the time I was boarding my plane back to Singapore. See here for a photo of Kiyomi ( the girl applying makeup for Kojima ): http://www.lionbus.undo.jp/

They always say if something's not broken, don't fix it, but heck, I really felt like a change. (picture for blog header). To usher in the new year, a breath of fresh air, the works. I just hope it still runs in parallel to the "halcyon realms" theme. Tell me what you guys think. Shot on a beautiful evening near the train tracks near my house.

Watching Reality Bites (1994) for the first time in its entirety brings back very fond memories of my early secondary days where the nostalgic soundtrack featuring Lisa Loeb's "Stay" was one of the first CD's I ever owned, and this was still way back in the early 1990's where the now mesozoic cassette tapes were been slowly but surely supplanted by CDs, a fate they themselves seemed doomed to reiterate in the wake of digital music.



That aside, Reality Bites is an extremely important film in recent cinematic history not only because its serves as an irreplacable memory bookmark in an early chapter of my life ( the transition from bespectacled, nerdy primary school kid to bespectacled, nerdy secondary school kid ), but more importantly because its the emblematic teen-angsty, quasi-intelligent, 90s era defining film, just as what the Matrix Trilogy had done for the new millenium years. This once again demonstrates the power of the cinema and its ability to change worlds and shape lives, deliberate or not. Now the debate of whether Bites was a good or bad film requires another article altogether, but undisputedly, it had one heck of a bloody good soundtrack, bar Sharona or none.