eric tsui

I used to live in a cramped basement suite, with no kitchen nor any privacy, with my friend Luke. We worked at his family’s Korean restaurant together, and worked on our artistic pursuits after hours when it closed for the day. Why not live together at that point and keep the magic going? That’s what we were thinking. He would make music all night and it drove me up the wall until I had to wear earplugs to sleep. I gradually came to not mind that he followed his impulse to create and I have always been inspired by him as such. Growing up, I didn’t have many creative people around me. Luke and I were both alike in that regard. Once we got to know each other, it was the first sense of support we had. I had a little photo studio set up on my side of the bedroom and would invite friends over to play around, and he would be one of my muses.

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I was juggling three jobs then; at a grad photo studio, assisting, and serving at a restaurant. We would take walks around the block on our off days, and this image is a reminder of that fervent time. It’s a middle-class East Van neighbourhood like any other. Quiet, unassuming, with perfectly manicured lawns full of young families trying to get by. Rows and rows of the whole middle of Vancouver are set up like this; zoned for single families and uneventful other than the occasional stumble by a toddler. When compared to the denser, highway-ridden cities, it’s laughable in the lack of appeal for walking anywhere considering everywhere looks the same. Despite that, it’s still possible to find some sort of interest and personality in the rare moments of residents looking to abandon their old furniture or trying to create a sense of decorum in their gardens.