The day of a HDB flat Photographer

Don't laugh. I am really a photographer who's main aim is to take pictures of the most unimaginatively designed buildings in the world. The employer, called Informap, specialises on making 3-d maps of cities including singapore, moscow and paris, to name a few. Just what goes on behind the scenes is anybody's guess - they could be terrorists for all i know. What i know is there are currently 3,032,908 designs of hdb flats in singapore concocted a few centuries back by the boring-est, most stale-minded people of that time. What's remarkable is their blueprints remain so successful for small cities like ours that it's still used today.

So what does a hyperactive, approaching-30-years-old male (YES, 6 more years and all of us doggies will be 30) does on his workdays? First, he sets a time to wake up in the morning the night before, maybe at 8. Then he waits for alarm to ring, turns it off, then goes back to nua for another 30 minutes. A piece of bread is all he takes for breakfast for this physically demanding job, and soon he will feel in his knees the repercussions of taking in so little carbohydrates.

Wait a minute, physically demanding you say? Of course it is. Imagine walking around the vast neighborhood in the hot sun with nothing on except a bag and a singlet and berms and with a camera strap clad around the neck, not to mention climbing stairs or walking a few hundred metres down the road so as to capture the perfect shot (you should understand that flats are humongous). And i am not talking about 3 or 4 blocks of flats here either. It's a WHOLE neighborhood, e.g. from blocks 326 to 350, which is like 2,756 blocks of flats. Do the math, and my average energy output per day rivals that of a marathon runner carrying a camera round his neck. Just to take pictures like those below:

At this point it is perfectly normal to feel bored. If you are not, then you must be either one of the evil culprits behind the hdb designing team, a person who has flats fetish, a stalker who likes to peep into the windows hoping to come across something delightful, or that you are simply someone who's looking for a flat to stay in .

It is never always that smooth-sailing , this job. Like for example the picture below. Those darn trees are blocking what is looking to be a perfect overview shot of block 352 if not for those darn trees. But luckily i smart: Put in a playground and there you go, awwww a nice homely scene of family wonderness.


As if having a formidable adversary in mother nature is not enough, i have to overcome obstacles such as drains, roads and perfectly-parked-and-blocking-my-view cars or even worse lorries. Most of the time i have to venture onto muddy grass, fend off giant red ants gnawing at my feet, scale the slopes of mini hills, swing from tree to tree, leopard crawl underneath crevices, absail down building walls, swim across flooded canals, duel with giant snakes, or even help old aunties cross the road.

Today an even perculiar situation came upon me. I was taking a break from the snapping, playing with a group of foraging pigeons. All i wanted was to take a picture of them happily nipping at the grass, but whenever i approached they sensed a hideous monster coming towards them and always flew away.


That was when i heard some leaves rustling and a thud on the ground. To my horror, i found this, the gruesome attempt on my life by one of the residents of the block which i was taking snapshots of.
Isn't this the most vicious weapon you had ever seen. On closer scrutiny, it is in fact a slice of eaten honeydew! OMFG OMFG OMFG!!!! An attempt, albeit failed, on my life with this horrendous piece of fruit! Shame on you, evil-heartlander-who-likes-fruits! Don't like me take pictures of your flat then want to silence me and my lens. Thankfully his aim was not that accurate, although only off by 2 metres. Nice try you piece of shit. I leave with my brains still firmly intact in my skull.

After realizing that the assailant could still be around, i scoured around for any signs of the hitman's traces left at the scene of the crime. No marks found, and can't find him. He must be a professional honeydew thrower. Damn you, honeydew killer, damn you. Oh crap, I should have taken the evidence and try to find out his identity by matching the teeth marks.

Dark clouds began looming above my head before i knew it, and thanks to the downpour that was too early due, i had to end my assignment prematurely for the day. So off i went cycling home in the rain with my equipment safely dry in my waterproof timbuk2 bag.

So what exactly is the smell of a photographer? A sensual exotic blend of sweat from 5 hours of toil and 10 minutes of a tropical climate rain.