The Photographer's Eye
I have been photographing Singapore with what I flatter myself is a discerning eye. Yesterday, I was confronted with an uncomfortable realization: I have been taking the exact same photographs as everyone else.
A literary botanical journal documenting luxury lily cultivation in Singapore.
I have been photographing Singapore with what I flatter myself is a discerning eye. Yesterday, I was confronted with an uncomfortable realization: I have been taking the exact same photographs as everyone else.
There is a particular species of nightlife that exists primarily to be photographed. Clarke Quay is its natural habitat.
They say one cannot simply transplant a life as one transplants a bulb, but I have always found that with enough patience and the right organic fertilizer, anything can be made to flourish.
One simply does not plant an Oriental Lily; one invites a diva into the garden. Caring for these temperamental creatures is less about gardening and more about diplomacy.
I took the cable car to Sentosa, because one must. If you are going to visit an island that exists primarily as a theme park for tropical leisure, you might as well arrive with theatrical intent.
The reservation took three weeks and a favor from someone who knows someone. This is how one dines well in Singapore.
Orchard Road is two and a half kilometers of climate-controlled retail therapy, a monument to the proposition that consumption and culture are not merely compatible but synonymous.
I have come to understand that humidity is not weather. It is a condition of existence, a baseline against which all other sensations must be calibrated.
To understand Singapore, one must understand the hawker centre. Or so I have been told repeatedly.
One does not simply visit Raffles Hotel. One makes a pilgrimage.