personal - me

ATH E E RAH KAMAL

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Tears Photography

Wander Photography

Living Photography

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Doodlings and Fancy Writing Drawing & Typography

Some hand-made things Crafts

‘Magazine’ Web

PHOTOGRAPHY Captured digitally and on film camera

Tears, Wander, Living; encapsulates my state of being the past year. A fresh graduate that was lost and recieving rejection upon rejection. Film evokes a certain mood and mystery. Not knowing the turn-out, but when developed, looking at the image, there is a soft whisper of memory. After picking up photography for some time, I start shooting less. I slow down, and observe more. Less is more after all. It’s so intriguing to be patient, live in the moment & feel what you shoot. I love the emotion of blur, & grain in images, it gives us something raw that we feel, that relates to the images we see. A thought crafts a picture’s story. Shot on my iPhone 8, Olympus Penn and disposable camera.

TEARS 22.12.17 En route to home from Petaling Jaya, shot on phone (left) Everyon has seen sadness. What does sadness look like? It looks motionless. I need to do something to fill this void; colours, happy thoughts and love. I tried fighting with all strength and power, but these black holes are still here. Thinking it would bring light into my soul, nourishing me, enlightening me. Emptiness is my companion. I think we amicably co-exist...for now with my hollow heart.

TEARS

Once, I knew a fine song, —It is true, believe me,— It was all of birds, And I held them in a basket; When I opened the wicket, Heavens! They all flew away.

I cried, “Come back, little thoughts!”

But they only laughed.

They flew on Until they were as sand Thrown between me and the sky.

- Stephen Crane

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TEARS

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When your father passes, just before he leaves your side forever, you think of all the things to say, to ask, things you may have said and asked a million times but you’ll want to say them just once more.

Thank you.

Sorry.

When your father passes, you don’t peel away from your mother, who, you learn, is tougher than you gave her credit for. You assumed she would be left behind, wallowing by herself.

When your father’s gone, you’ll see your mother in a new light. You’ll see more clearly how your father loved her, protected her, made her the woman she is without him. You will see her running the household, ‘she is so strong’, you think to yourself.

TEARS

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I love you.

When your father’s gone, his spirit itself seems to have taken over the space, you aren’t going to change that overnight. You try to heal yourself and your family.

You start moving a sofa, perhaps add a pillow or two. A new coffee table comes along, a change of layout in the living room, a fresh coat of paint. Subconciously where he was always the most, you busied around it. He then becomes a lingering pleaseant memory. A new wave brings with it an ocean of happy thoughts, reminders, sensations, and memories.

Process of grieving is unique, each to their own.

When your father’s gone, it’s as if having your protective illusion stripped away.

But every now and then, when the sky is a particular shade of blue, or driving silently in your car or you hear the chatter of a family gathering, you will feel a drop in your chest, to no one in particular, you’ll say, “Baba.”

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TEARS

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WAN D E R

East Coast Park, shot on film (left) During these difficult months of ‘recovering’, I learned that a huge part of life is chance. The chance you give yourself, and chancing upon. You can try to control how you react, but you have to learn to adapt to the changing tides. We all want approval. We all want to be praised. We all want to be loved. Any time we would even betray our own self. “We have become so unconscious of our unconsciousness and so ignorant of our ignorance - unknown”.

Falling into periods of burnout or extreme doubt is easy. It’s a downward spiral from there and on a continous loop.

Outside your fence, the world has so much to offer. It would be a shame to not take a leap of faith over that setback. Inside all of us there somethingomething pure, gentle & loving; beyong words and comprehension. When you learn to trust your heart, be present and faithful, allowing things to come you way, you will find your way back home. Even through the toughest of times. Because you realised home never left you, it was within you all along.

I’m lost !!

But was I ?

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WANDER

The brain is trained to keep yourself away from danger. It settles, it wants you to be comfortable, you contemplate every move. The heart? No. The heart makes you long for the next few seconds, feel, the adrenaline of rash behaviour.

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WANDER

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WANDER

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WANDER

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WANDER

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WANDER

A beautiful girl with a beautiful smile. Special children are unique and cannot be fit into a cookie-cutter. They dont bother to conform to what is worthy or right in the society. They have a mind as free as a butterfly, they are themselves without apology. Maybe because they live in every second, spontaneous and no bother.

LIVING 11.07.18 Up in the air, shot on film (left) “No one can make you feel inferior without your consent” - Eleanor Roosevelt You, never feel guilty of what you believe in yourself. Love what you do. “It’s a silly pursuit. With that English, you sure?” you heard it all. Eh. It used to bug you. Now, not in the slightest bit are they true.

In the end, if you aren’t doing something you love, why are you doing it in the first place? Like if you’re passionate about a story, I promise you there will be readers who will love it, too. Do it with heart and willingly. You’re never alone when doing something you love.

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LIVING

If writing and drawing is what you feel your passion is, make time to do them; without guilt. Go ahead just write, just draw. Nurturing in your passion brings bliss in life. What is wrong or right when it comes to writing? You need to stop caring what others think. I see you people pleaser! You’re never going to please everyone and accept that. All you are doing is filling in the empty space with a pool of colours. Full depth of emotions. The more you write, its the fastest way to improve yourself.

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LIVING

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WHEN IN MELBOURNE 11.07.18 - 13.07.18 Flinders St., shot on film (left) Everything and more Melbourne was. A great escape, where cold breeze nips at my lips, I sip delicious coffee. I drown my concerns back home here with warm delectable liquid gold. Like a beautiful painting it was. Picturesque, friendly ‘Melbournians’ and food prepared with warmth. A short dream.

LIVING

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LIVING

FINDERS KEEPERS

Royal Exhibition Building We serendipitously ended up under a magnificent dome structure, where creative souls were sharing their wares. Where the artisans had meticulously and uniquely curate their crafts. Only warmth and joy they had when explaining their ideas to people. Despite the throngs of people, in that humble setting, I felt content.

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LIVING

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I sit on a grimey stone, Knowing I’m never alone.

My sneakers are white, I want to feel as pure, But emotionally I can’t endure.

1..2..3 seagulls, Unlike their colour, My life is dull.

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Daydreaming by the pier.

The sun’s setting here.

Where the waves crash, My forlorn soul left in a flash.

Salty air wafts around, Here serenity, I found.

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D RAWI N G & TYP O G RAP HY Nibs, brushes and all the doodles

Let’s be honest. My drawing skills are not the best so I’ll call them doodles.

Through my doodles, I noticed that the drawings mimic the state of my being.

Usually it’s a fond memory of someone translated into a cartoon, or a trait I associate with the subject.

Calligraphy I must say was the most meticulous and hardworking skill I’ve tried to pick up. I did jump on the trend-bandwagon but mainly because handwriting admiration is a disease I suffer from. Also when the nib meets the surface of the paper; watching how the ink flows out through the split of the nib and the scratchy sounds it makes. GASPS

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DRAWING & TYPOGRAPHY

DOODLES

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DOODLES & CALLIGRAPHY

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CRAFTS All things made with love

A few months back I started to dabble into making crafts. Stashed in my room is a tin box full of curios. I have a sore spot for things that are one-of-a kind. There’s something unexplainable about possesing an item no one else has. I have become obsessed with creating things to fill my room.There is not much I have made yet, but so much more to come !

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CRAFTS

CLOCK-WORK

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WEB the beauty of time passing

An issue about me...

A person who collects things is called a “collector” or a “hobbyist.” I am a hoarder when it comes to magazines. I love collecting furniture catalogues, pottery or artisanal issues and more. The ultimate dream is to write or design for a magazine one day. But my skills aren’t there yet...one day issuu.com/atheerahkamal

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theerahkamal@gmail.com issuu.com/atheerahkamal @eggnosey or @dustandchisel