Behind SyloArts

Log.20210418. It has been 1 year, 2 months, 2 weeks and 6 days since the start of the pandemic in Canada. Many people have "had enough" and just three days ago there were those witnessed attending outdoor dance parties to sooth the uneasiness of their 'souls'. They rather spread a disease even if there is a possibility of them killing a friend, family member, or themselves. I don't get it. They may think I "live in fear" but I think they are mistaking fear for compassion and consideration. I don't understand how these people are not in a ways - tagged. They very well possibly be people that work and interact with many others. Making this pandemic harder to contain. I, on the other hand, am a homebody. I have had no problems staying at home. I've decided to try to complete a project a month. Large or small. They can be ones I've already started and very much need to get on with. Things I've always wanted to do, try, or have. Project 2021.1...

I haven't blogged for many years. One reason was at the request of a family member who thought I was just painting them in a bad light. You can look back on my past posts and guess who this family member is. but it would be of no surprise. It has been almost 10 years since I properly wrote anything on this online diary of my life events. I don't even think I wrote about my wedding. I thought life through pictures would say a lot since a pictures worth a thousand words, but I'm considerably starting to wonder if those are the right or wrong words of a story being told. Enough of that now. I've felt that keeping a lot of things to myself has resulted in a few things in my life. I've learned that it's not quite that healthy to keep things in your head, of even in your heart and body. Things eat at you. You forget things. I was asked why I wouldn't just keep a paper diary. The truth is I type almost just as fast I can think. Writing by hand would just make my ha...

I've told you guys a story before how I'm not devoted to any religion but still believe there is a GOD and, though I may not go to church, or pray on a weekly/daily schedule. Another moment in my life when I had a - 'God - totally heard me and responded' moment was this one. It is 2014 and I had made my way to Montreal to meet up with the boyfriend who was there at the time for work. We soon later made our way to New York to check out an Art Gallery in Manhattan who was interested in representing me at the time and I was considering if I wanted to have my work shown there. The trip was great! We visited central park, went to the MET, saw places we recognized in movies, watched Wicked on Broadway. Ate at places that were popular and recommended. Upon leaving, in our taxi ride to the airport, I started to pray as boyfriend was chatting away with the driver. I started my prayer pretty much the same way I start all my prayers... ‘Hey Dad, I know you’re busy, but...’ and tha...

Although I’m not Catholic - I went to a Catholic school as a kid in elementary. I’m not particularly religious. My mom is Christian and my Nana (her mom) I would say is very much a child of the lord - she is filled with faith and is the sweetest thing. I however have had a number of unexplained experiences in my life to make me fully believe that the Heavenly Father / God / He / She exists. I usually very often refer to God as my Dad/ Spiritual Dad. If something blesses me in life, I will look to the heavens and say, “Thanks!” Now, DAD / God to me is a very busy Dad with billions of children to watch over. I don’t pray a lot because I just feel like I don’t want to take up any valuable voicemail space. I just do my best to be a good person and independent child of God. I also say the guardian angels prayer a lot and regard them as spiritual siblings. There was one time... In 2004-2005... my mom took me on a impromptu trip back to Malaysia and Brunei. It felt like a - 'you should pa...

  From me to you: a 36 Years Past - a Poem. By: E.S. Lo my 37th year... I would like to start anew. And I ask this from a numbered few. They are apologies I do extend, To all those I did offend. If I ever broke your heart, Made you cry or fall apart. If my words they left a mark, I am sorry for my part. If I ever kicked your shins, made you bleed or bruised your skin. For somethings I can't recall. I am sorry for them all. If I caused you sadness in any way deepest apologies, is all I can say. If I bullied you or was mean and rude. I apologize for being crude. 36 years of weary thoughts it's enough sadness that it's brought. Time has been said to heal all wounds, it doesn't really, it's only assumed. I've always been taught to bite my tongue, don't speak too much - you may look dumb. Don't laugh too loud, it's unattractive, and as I age that doesn't matter. What really matters is the love we knew. The love we give to many or a few. The love we gr...

When I was a little girl living in East Vancouver, BC.  There was a summer where a new boy and his family moved in next door. Since he was new, my dad thought it would be good for me to make new friends and go and play with him - since we were around the same age ( I think he was a year or two younger.) Well this boy's sense "fun" was to kill things like snails, slugs and worms. He would run around the yard and find worms, slugs, and snails to step on, throw on the fence to dry out in the sun, and cut in half. I went with it for a while but I absolutely didn't like watching this potentially psycho child kill things and I eventually stopped playing with him. I think my dad took it as me being anti-social, non-friendly. I took it as, I don't like killing things as much as that boy likes killing things. I don't know if I ever told my dad that - that was reason I stopped playing with him. Maybe I should have.

In elementary school, we had pen pals from Kenya, but my exchange with my pen pal actually continued into high school.  One day my elementary school was able to track us down after moving and had called my dad about letters for me. My pen pals address had always been a school and mine which was once the schools address eventually became my house address. I wrote her back after receiving a letter after so many years, it began again. But eventually we stopped writing again. I don’t know who stopped writing or responding. If she graduated and no longer had a physical address to send mail through or receive, but that was that.  Fast forward years later and it’s late 2017... there is this magical thing now of social media and the internet to connect us. So I google her name, B- (I’m leaving her name out) ... I come across a photo I thought might be her and message the twitter account. No response. And then I come another news article with a photo of a woman I think also might be B-...