watertight mind
I've been thinking a lot about the power of the mind lately. How it can drive us to perform, at times beyond the realm of our technical facilities, and also be the greatest hindrance to our success, preventing us from doing things we've repeated a million times before.
How many times has an elated mood pushed me that extra mile across the finish line at the gym, or a shadow of self doubt catapulted me into an all-consuming paralysis?
With more mainstream adoption of psychostimulants and increasing numbers of training manuals for neuroplasticity ("Train your mind, Change your brain!"), I do wonder what new territories could be open to me, if I achived a watertight mind.
Maybe those violin lessons would have gone somewhere, I'd have sold my first startup by now, I'd have more friends, tell funnier jokes.
The now cliche 10,000 hour rule may require a number of addendums to truly correlate to success, but practice is king. Now if there were only enough hours in a day...
Here is a short film by Asa Mader of Charlie Siem playing Ole Bull. A man with a talented mind, and talented looks.
Chinese Breakfast
New Post on Jing Theory
Sichuan Cold Sesame Noodles
New post on JingTheory. A simple recipe from my grandmother for deliciously spicy cold sesame noodles.
Nonya Fried Chicken
Minotaure & Dali's modernist conflation of architecture and cuisine
Minotaure (1933 - 1939)
In 1933 Albert Skira, a young publisher of elegant art books, released the first two issues of a periodical which, though it would only last for 6 years, remains to this day one of the most impressive publications of its kind ever produced.
“Filled with colour and black and white reproductions of a technical excellence unusual for the time, Minotaure first appeared in June 1933, and continued through thirteen issues, ceasing publication at the onset of World War II. The publishers set themselves the difficult task of bearing witness to the different movements in contemporary art, through text and image, demonstrating the interaction between the visual arts, literature, and science. Thus Minotaure documented the vast panorama of the 1930s, and served as a forum for encounters and discussions…Each number of Minotaure included contributions from artists, writers, philosophers, critics, psychoanalysts, and ethnologists, and was meant to be read as a collective work, many-voiced.”
Looking at it now, all these years later, with the canons of modernity firmly and irrevocably established in our minds, the list of contributors to Minotaure is almost comical: Breton, Picasso, Éluard, Miró, Chagall, Bataille, Magritte, Lacan, Matisse, Queneau, Duchamp, Man Ray, de Chirico, Dalí, Giacometti, Ernst, Rivera, Masson, Balthus, Matta, Bellmer, Arp, Brassaï, Huxley, Kandinsky, Jung…and these are just some names any average person is likely to recognize, add to it the archeologists, sinologists, anthropologists, ethnologists, numismatists, musicologists, historians, etc, etc, and the pedigree becomes overwhelming.
via the phenomenal Nonist.
There's a dire lack of translated content from Minotaure online, although I was able to find an excerpt from a certain Dali article I sought “De la beauté terrifiante et comestible de l’architecture modern style,” Minotaure, no. 3-4 (1933), p. 74
In a surealist exposition of edible architecture, Dali explores a conflation between the two in a manner not dissimilar from his visual works.
He describes two Art Nouveau houses that Gaudi designed on the Paseo de Gracia in Barcelona, explaining how one was inspired by the ocean’s waves during a tempest, and the other by the tranquil waters of a lake.
“These are real buildings, veritable sculptures of the reflections of crepuscular clouds in water, made possible by recourse to an immense and mad, multicolored and gleaming mosaic of the pointillist iridescence from which emerge forms of poured water, forms of spreading water, forms of stagnant water, forms of mirroring water, forms of water curled by the wind, all these forms of water constellated in an asymmetric and dynamic-instantaneous succession of bicyncopated, interlaced reliefs, melted by the ‘naturalist-stylized’ nunuphars and nympheas concretized in impure and annihilating excentric convergences, thick protuberances of fear bursting from the incredible facade, simultaneously twisted by all the insane suffering and by all the latent and infinitesimally soft calmness equaled only by that of the horrifying ripe and apotheosic flakes ready to be eaten with a spoon—with the bloody, greasy, soft spoon of gamey meat that approaches.”
Minotaure was sold for 25 Francs when it was in print. Needless to say, I would hand over a lot more dough to get my hands on a boxed set today.
Below are some of Minotaure's fucking epic covers.
André Masson, Minotaure no. 12-13, 1939.
Diego Rivera, Frontispiece Minotaure no. 12-13, 1939.
Max Ernst, Minotaure no. 11, 1938.
René Magritte, Minotaure no. 10, 1937.
Henri Matisse, Minotaure no. 9, 1936.
Salvadore Dalí, Minotaure no. 8, 1936.
Joan Miró, Minotaure no. 7, 1935.
Marcel Duchamp, Minotaure no. 6, 1934.
Francisco Borés, Minotaure no. 5, 1934.
André Derain, Minotaure no. 3-4, 1933.
Gaston-Lois Roux, Minotaure no. 2, 1933.
Pablo Picasso, Minotaure no. 1, 1933.
Osia in Singapore
This one promised to be different with its use of distinctly Australian ingredients, like acacia tree seeds, bush berries, and quandongs- type of desert peach. Trendy was the word, and Osia's smart setting, gorgeous show kitchen, and hip clientel all reflected its innovative dishes.
I went last night with my roommate, thank god she's also a foodie. Had a cocktail at the bar overlooking the kitchen first while waiting for our table. Lots of action, made for a couple beautiful shots. I ordered a bellini made of lilipili, a type of Australian bush berry. Lovely flavour, subtle, sweet, tart, almost like tiny chinese wax berries.
*please excuse the shitty photos, lighting was craaaap, only had my lumix, and you won't believe the amount of photoshop it took to get them at least presentable.
We started with some flatbread. They have a few kinds, but I love olive. It came with evoo, butter, and get this. eggplant paste in a tube. Rad. It was so good my atkins-loving anti-carb roommate bent and ate half.
Next up was polenta crumbled foie gras, served on daikon, with fruit chutney and mirin soy glaze. Its foie gras. There's no finding fault with this dish.
We got some sides, truffle seaweed salt fries and creamed spinach. They were fine.
Highlight for me was my main. Tasmanian milk fed lamb short loin and shank. Apricot jam, puffed (crunchy) wild rice, butternut hazlenut puree, and garlic jus. Cooked perfectly, the lamb wasn't overwhelmed by the other elements, rather complemented. Done two ways, I appreciated the added variety. I usually find vegetables and seafood preparation more interesting than meat, but this was one dish that was stimulating to eat throughout. You could really taste the quality of milk fed lamb.
Another signature main at the restaurant is the Black Angus beef tenderloin. this was paired with mushroom and bacon, a wonderful blueberry risotto and bone marrow sauce. Again, quality of ingredients really shone through. Can't go wrong with black angus.
For dessert we had the Valrhona hot chocolate soup, which came highly recommended. as well as the macademia tart.
The soup was good, but was not unlike any molten chocolate lava cake I've had, except with less cake and more lava. No denying it is heavenly though. Macademia tart was the only dissapointment, flavourless and dry, could have done without.
3 course dinner for 2 with a glass of wine each was about 300 SGD.
On the expensive side, so I'd recommend going for lunch, when set menus start at only 28 SGD for two courses.
Osia 02-140/141 Crockfords Tower (FestiveWalk), 8 Sentosa Gateway, tel +65 6577 8899
























































