After constructing a set of visuals to reflect an observation from another student about trains, I set about replacing the audio to accompany my new visuals of trains. After completing an interview with my grandparents, I chose some sections of audio about the scars that can be felt by travel that go far beyond the everyday, and contrasted this with images of Melbourne commuters not worrying too much about their travel habits.



A light breeze washes over the few people leisurely sitting on the pier, waves crashing on the old wooden poles, the slight sound of hungry seagulls hovering in the distance. The warm and welcome April sun beams down onto the small collection of beach dwellers, hoping to soak up as much sunlight before winter rears its ugly head again. A group of young people crowd around a small speaker, looking on in anticipation while the sound of a radio announcer bellows from the overly loud speaker, although not loud enough that any of the beach goers would leave. As the radio announcer introduces an artist into the studio and they start performing, a young man picks up the speaker, turning it up even further, and yells to the mostly empty beach, “this is my mate!”. His look of genuine joy and excitement bringing a warm smile to the several people to the pier.




The radio is a powerful medium that creates an unconscious community, tied together in a moment of time, most often through music. The short explores that unconscious community, and the expansive nature of a medium that is being pushed aside.



As we know, the wind is always wandering in the human world. But have we ever stopped to think about what colour the wind is? In fact, it was my first time to film the wind. It struck me as very profound. It might have something to do with my current state of life and mentality. I was happy to touch the wind, and I hope you like it, too.

The Observation Writing:

‘What colour is the wind?’ The girl thinks. She walks along on the street. She looks at a lady who is coming toward her. At this time, there is a gust of wind that blows up the lady’s hair. The girl watches the wind which brushes her face, eyes, and hair. She thinks ‘wind, are you blue? Because of you, the resilience of life is revived.’ The girl walks on through the crowd and waits for the red light. And then, she crosses the road, and she still feels the wind which is following her. ‘Wind, are you green?’ she still thinks. ‘You sneak up to the tree, put your hand on the sleeping heads of the leaves. You shake them to wake them up, right?’ The girl keeps walking, she wants to find the true meaning of the wind. ‘Wind, are you yellow? When you walk steadily but quickly forward, do you know that you are followed by a group of small sand?’ The girl feels puzzled. ‘Wind, are you white? You are the white clouds on the sky or floating flags.’ She tries to conjure up various answers in her mind. ‘You slowly leisurely walk on the sea. The sea immediately out of small waves as if the waves are complaining.’ ‘You slowly leisurely walk on the sea. The sea immediately out of small waves as if the waves are complaining. You jump and run on the sea. The sea immediately rolled up a huge wave, as if by the naughty you provoked. The waves are roaring.’ The girl is lost in thought. She does not stop. She just sighs in silence for a moment. ‘Wind, what colour are you? You always in a hurry to come, and then in a hurry to leave, hardly ever left some traces.’


The Aroma of Asian spices fill the air, a smell so strong and alluring. Soon after, what follows is the combination of these spices in a mortar and pestle. Rapid pounding and crushing actions envelope the kitchen space.

Slowly and carefully once that had been done, she begins to finely slice up onions. A hot wok is roaring with intense heat on the stove.

A fragrance of oil and onion dances in the air, with a fiery sizzling sound echoing in the halls of the kitchen. As more ingredients are being added to the wok, the more intense the food becomes. Beans, chilies and squid controlled with a hint of soy sauce create a rainbow of colours. All whilst this is going on they begin to finely dice up chili, with a dash of lime and soy sauce to create a chili condiment on the side.

The crackling of hot oil can be heard as a bread-crumbed coated drumstick is dipped into the deep fryer.

Carefully she plates rice onto a ornate plate, using a smaller bowl to scoop out a perfect portion. The dinner table is awash with epic Malaysian food. All set out in neat bowls and plates. There is no need for utensils here. Everyone at the table begins to dig in using their hands, connecting their bodies to the food. Smiles, laughter and chatter is amidst all the chewing and eating. For some this is the only way to reminisce about how simple life is back home in Malaysia.

Insight into the observation

One day I was sitting down at the dinner table waiting for my mum to finish preparing food. As I was waiting, I began to observe and reflect upon how she was making a preparing the food. The different senses that come into play when food is being prepared. The ambience, aroma and environment creates this type of aura that reflects a cultural image of a persons living space at home. Different cultures have different approaches to making food. This inspired me a lot, so I kept on watching my mum prepare all of these different Malaysian foods. My mother and I prefer to eat with our hands, being connected to the food in a sense. In my belief, the observation is a glimpse into the world of Malaysian food culture, which is explosive and unique through many intertwined cultures inspiring many Malaysian dishes.

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