When he worked on his art it was the same – past, present and future melded, time bent or stood still, doubt and judgement were suspended. An exhilarating sense of playfulness and discovery drove him on until everything that was within him flowed onto the canvas, and when that was done he felt emptied and satisfied. It was addictive, this feeling, and he sought it again and again. Not just the doing, but the feeling after the doing.
The transition to living in the city, in a new country, and attending art school would not have been possible without the lifeguards who gathered around him. There were the admin staff, teachers and librarians at the art school, some of the students, Pak Bambang, but most important were his housemates at the Darlo Boarding House and, month by month, he grew cl
