protect your rice bowl.

That's what they say in Singapore; I reckon it's the equivalent of "cover your a--."


Nevermind that he's pointing over the guy's head; the point is unassailably clear: This is Singapore Law.

For our part, it was more like "shoot, do not be shot." We were trying to protect our rice bowls, as we found ourselves shooting illegally on a Military-protected island that is home to 80 of the largest Petroleum companies in the world, many of which you get your gas from every week.

Illegally, we learned, only after we'd surrendered our passports to the guards (who sported automatic weapons) and were being driven around by a frightened employee, who was telling us to photograph the plants as we drove by, and not to be seen.

Was this a commercial job or espionage? The line had become very blurry.

We found ourselves photographing from a covered parking garage, with our escort telling us to hide every couple of minutes from passers-by. It would have been hilarious, if it wasn't so dangerous (easier to laugh now).

Long story, but essentially (despite the monstrosity of the company we're shooting for) our contact didn't get the necessary permission to shoot the all the petroleum plants—though she asked us to photograph them and apparently assumed that it would all go "just fine."

Well, we survived, and actually got some good stuff—given the circumstances.

Today was much better. We had permission and were able to photograph at one very specific spot, inside and out. We also got high enough to shoot across the water at other plants. Technically illegal, I think, but all these companies are clients of our client, you see, and we're gonna get the shot, you see, 'cause we're in freaking Singapore, you see, and we can't just 'swing by' next week for pick-ups.

Singapore, by the way, is by all descriptions Communist. The government owns every building, every square mile of land, and even every taxi cab. It's its own country, too, I learned: a whopping 15 x 30 miles large. It's a city-country, you could say. And you honestly wonder if everything you're doing is punishable by law; chewing gum is, I was told. Then I was told that you can chew gum, but you can't have gum in your possession (pockets). Then I was told that you can chew gum, but you can't sell it. Then I was told that you can chew gum. This was all from 4 different people.

I chew gum, and it feels good to ride the law.

When you're on the equator, by the way, you sweat. Not as much as in PHX, I learned, but it feels like more. There is something wicked draining about the heat here. As part Saguaro, I think I feel it more than humans.

And when you're all covered in sweat, the best thing you can do is put on a thick long-sleeve shirt, a hard-had, and goggles that turn your face into a greenhouse:



Can I just say publicly that Red Sanders is one of my favorite people? We work smashingly together and despite seeing each other perpetually for 10 days, have only grown closer.

Here's a glimpse of what we are surrounded by on this island. It's like nothing I've ever seen, man. What kind of a world is this? I keep wondering. Here's a wicked-twisted petroleum city by night:


I gotta keep confidence, so that's all for now. I've shot hundreds of photographs over the past 10 days, and it's been a great job—despite the moral boundaries that I've been crossing the entire time. I figure it's better to take than to give, right?

Don't shop at Wal-Mart if you can possibly keep from it.

wes.