Carnets by Sali Sasaki

Most evenings, I would stop by my local 7-eleven to buy a few sparkling drinks. I would then walk up to my building’s rooftop, sit on a plastic chair, pour the carbonated liquid into a glass and listen to the bubbles escape. Glancing toward the horizon, my eyes would meet the pink gradation of the sky where the clouds appeared like cotton candy. The traffic noises from below evaporated into the soft air. Those were usually accompanied by the vibration of air conditioning fans, and the clink of hammers and construction works echoing in the distance. This undefined blend felt like the pulse and breath of the city, conjuring up the lives that happened to exist within it. Somehow, in such moments as I sat on the plastic chair, I felt connect to a vast ensemble and there was something comforting about the idea of belonging to this vastness, suspended in between the chaotic traffic and the light veil of the tropical skies.

Paris, 2020

sketching at the Louvre, 2012

Kuala Lumpur, 2011

Jakarta, 2013