關於 we the best music group contact ，我們在網路上蒐集到這些相關的討論、資訊與評價

It's been two years since we registered our firstborn for Primary One and looking back, we've never regretted getting her into a neighbourhood school.

Every day, she looks forward to going to school and excitedly comes home to share with me the happenings. She has made new friends, interacts well with them and loves her classmates. She enjoys the canteen food and can now confidently order her food and count her change. Her teachers have maintained a close contact with parents and have been updating us their progress. She has started on her excellence CCA in Primary 2 and is loving every session. We've been invited to watch her speech and drama performances, music extravaganzas, school carnivals and many more. She has been the group leader, class monitor and she topped the class last year, much to our surprise. This year, she took part in her first Math Olympiad and came home with a Bronze award.

All the academic achievements, though of course extremely heartening and assuring, were not what I had expected. All I wanted was to find a school she would love and enjoy going to every day, a place that would hold a huge part of her fond memories in her growing up years. It wouldn't matter so much to me if she didn't perform well in her studies as it would if she woke up every morning feeling dreary and gets through her day with no zest or enthusiasm. So yes, even though we have shifted this year and her school is not within walking distance anymore, the fact that she has fallen in love with this school makes it worthwhile for us to travel the distance. Happiness, it's still the most important thing. Here's a recap of the considerations when choosing a primary school, best of luck to those who are going through this phase this year! http://bit.ly/choosingaprimaryschool

Nobody’s Fool　　( January 2011 )

Yoshitomo Nara

Do people look to my childhood for sources of my imagery? Back then, the snow-covered fields of the north were about as far away as you could get from the rapid economic growth happening elsewhere. Both my parents worked and my brothers were much older, so the only one home to greet me when I got back from elementary school was a stray cat we’d taken in. Even so, this was the center of my world. In my lonely room, I would twist the radio dial to the American military base station and out blasted rock and roll music. One of history’s first man-made satellites revolved around me up in the night sky. There I was, in touch with the stars and radio waves.

It doesn’t take much imagination to envision how a lonely childhood in such surroundings might give rise to the sensibility in my work. In fact, I also used to believe in this connection. I would close my eyes and conjure childhood scenes, letting my imagination amplify them like the music coming from my speakers.

But now, past the age of fifty and more cool-headed, I’ve begun to wonder how big a role childhood plays in making us who we are as adults. Looking through reproductions of the countless works I’ve made between my late twenties and now, I get the feeling that childhood experiences were merely a catalyst. My art derives less from the self-centered instincts of childhood than from the day-to-day sensory experiences of an adult who has left this realm behind. And, ultimately, taking the big steps pales in importance to the daily need to keep on walking.

While I was in high school, before I had anything to do with art, I worked part-time in a rock café. There I became friends with a graduate student of mathematics who one day started telling me, in layman’s terms, about his major in topology. His explanation made the subject seem less like a branch of mathematics than some fascinating organic philosophy. My understanding is that topology offers you a way to discover the underlying sameness of countless, seemingly disparate, forms. Conversely, it explains why many people, when confronted with apparently identical things, will accept a fake as the genuine article. I later went on to study art, live in Germany, and travel around the world, and the broader perspective I’ve gained has shown me that topology has long been a subtext of my thinking. The more we add complexity, the more we obscure what is truly valuable. Perhaps the reason I began, in the mid-90s, trying to make paintings as simple as possible stems from that introduction to topology gained in my youth.

As a kid listening to U.S. armed-forces radio, I had no idea what the lyrics meant, but I loved the melody and rhythm of the music. In junior high school, my friends and I were already discussing rock and roll like credible music critics, and by the time I started high school, I was hanging out in rock coffee shops and going to live shows. We may have been a small group of social outcasts, but the older kids, who smoked cigarettes and drank, talked to us all night long about movies they’d seen or books they’d read. If the nighttime student quarter had been the school, I’m sure I would have been a straight-A student.

In the 80s, I left my hometown to attend art school, where I was anything but an honors student. There, a model student was one who brought a researcher’s focus to the work at hand. Your bookshelves were stacked with catalogues and reference materials. When you weren’t working away in your studio, you were meeting with like-minded classmates to discuss art past and present, including your own. You were hoping to set new trends in motion. Wholly lacking any grand ambition, I fell well short of this model, with most of my paintings done to satisfy class assignments. I was, however, filling every one of my notebooks, sketchbooks, and scraps of wrapping paper with crazy, graffiti-like drawings.

Looking back on my younger days—Where did where all that sparkling energy go? I used the money from part-time jobs to buy record albums instead of art supplies and catalogues. I went to movies and concerts, hung out with my girlfriend, did funky drawings on paper, and made midnight raids on friends whose boarding-room lights still happened to be on. I spent the passions of my student days outside the school studio. This is not to say I wasn’t envious of the kids who earned the teachers’ praise or who debuted their talents in early exhibitions. Maybe envy is the wrong word. I guess I had the feeling that we were living in separate worlds. Like puffs of cigarette smoke or the rock songs from my speaker, my adolescent energies all vanished in the sky.

Being outside the city and surrounded by rice fields, my art school had no art scene to speak of—I imagined the art world existing in some unknown dimension, like that of TV or the movies. At the time, art could only be discussed in a Western context, and, therefore, seemed unreal. But just as every country kid dreams of life in the big city, this shaky art-school student had visions of the dazzling, far-off realm of contemporary art. Along with this yearning was an equally strong belief that I didn’t deserve admittance to such a world. A typical provincial underachiever!

I did, however, love to draw every day and the scrawled sketches, never shown to anybody, started piling up. Like journal entries reflecting the events of each day, they sometimes intersected memories from the past. My little everyday world became a trigger for the imagination, and I learned to develop and capture the imagery that arose. I was, however, still a long way off from being able to translate those countless images from paper to canvas.

Visions come to us through daydreams and fantasies. Our emotional reaction towards these images makes them real. Listening to my record collection gave me a similar experience. Before the Internet, the precious little information that did exist was to be found in the two or three music magazines available. Most of my records were imported—no liner notes or lyric sheets in Japanese. No matter how much I liked the music, living in a non-English speaking world sadly meant limited access to the meaning of the lyrics. The music came from a land of societal, religious, and subcultural sensibilities apart from my own, where people moved their bodies to it in a different rhythm. But that didn’t stop me from loving it. I never got tired of poring over every inch of the record jackets on my 12-inch vinyl LPs. I took the sounds and verses into my body. Amidst today’s superabundance of information, choosing music is about how best to single out the right album. For me, it was about making the most use of scant information to sharpen my sensibilities, imagination, and conviction. It might be one verse, melody, guitar riff, rhythmic drum beat or bass line, or record jacket that would inspire me and conjure up fresh imagery. Then, with pencil in hand, I would draw these images on paper, one after the other. Beyond good or bad, the pictures had a will of their own, inhabiting the torn pages with freedom and friendliness.

By the time I graduated from university, my painting began to approach the independence of my drawing. As a means for me to represent a world that was mine and mine alone, the paintings may not have been as nimble as the drawings, but I did them without any preliminary sketching. Prizing feelings that arose as I worked, I just kept painting and over-painting until I gained a certain freedom and the sense, though vague at the time, that I had established a singular way of putting images onto canvas. Yet, I hadn’t reached the point where I could declare that I would paint for the rest of my life.

After receiving my undergraduate degree, I entered the graduate school of my university and got a part-time job teaching at an art yobiko—a prep school for students seeking entrance to an art college. As an instructor, training students how to look at and compose things artistically, meant that I also had to learn how to verbalize my thoughts and feelings. This significant growth experience not only allowed me to take stock of my life at the time, but also provided a refreshing opportunity to connect with teenage hearts and minds.

And idealism! Talking to groups of art students, I naturally found myself describing the ideals of an artist. A painful experience for me—I still had no sense of myself as an artist. The more the students showed their affection for me, the more I felt like a failed artist masquerading as a sensei (teacher). After completing my graduate studies, I kept working as a yobiko instructor. And in telling students about the path to becoming an artist, I began to realize that I was still a student myself, with many things yet to learn. I felt that I needed to become a true art student. I decided to study in Germany. The day I left the city where I had long lived, many of my students appeared on the platform to see me off.

Life as a student in Germany was a happy time. I originally intended to go to London, but for economic reasons chose a tuition-free, and, fortunately, academism-free German school. Personal approaches coexisted with conceptual ones, and students tried out a wide range of modes of expression. Technically speaking, we were all students, but each of us brought a creator’s spirit to the fore. The strong wills and opinions of the local students, though, were well in place before they became artists thanks to the German system of early education. As a reticent foreign student from a far-off land, I must have seemed like a mute child. I decided that I would try to make myself understood not through words, but through having people look at my pictures. When winter came and leaden clouds filled the skies, I found myself slipping back to the winters of my childhood. Forgoing attempts to speak in an unknown language, I redoubled my efforts to express myself through visions of my private world. Thinking rather than talking, then illustrating this thought process in drawings and, finally, realizing it in a painting. Instead of defeating you in an argument, I wanted to invite you inside me. Here I was, in a most unexpected place, rediscovering a value that I thought I had lost—I felt that I had finally gained the ability to learn and think, that I had become a student in the truest sense of the word.

But I still wasn’t your typical honors student. My paintings clearly didn’t look like contemporary art, and nobody would say my images fit in the context of European painting. They did, however, catch the gaze of dealers who, with their antennae out for young artists, saw my paintings as new objects that belonged less to the singular world of art and more to the realm of everyday life. Several were impressed by the freshness of my art, and before I knew it, I was invited to hold exhibitions in established galleries—a big step into a wider world.

The six years that I spent in Germany after completing my studies and before returning to Japan were golden days, both for me and my work. Every day and every night, I worked tirelessly to fix onto canvas all the visions that welled up in my head. My living space/studio was in a dreary, concrete former factory building on the outskirts of Cologne. It was the center of my world. Late at night, my surroundings were enveloped in darkness, but my studio was brightly lit. The songs of folk poets flowed out of my speakers. In that place, standing in front of the canvas sometimes felt like traveling on a solitary voyage in outer space—a lonely little spacecraft floating in the darkness of the void. My spaceship could go anywhere in this fantasy while I was painting, even to the edge of the universe.

Suddenly one day, I was flung outside—my spaceship was to be scrapped. My little vehicle turned back into an old concrete building, one that was slated for destruction because it was falling apart. Having lost the spaceship that had accompanied me on my lonely travels, and lacking the energy to look for a new studio, I immediately decided that I might as well go back to my homeland. It was painful and sad to leave the country where I had lived for twelve years and the handful of people I could call friends. But I had lost my ship. The only place I thought to land was my mother country, where long ago those teenagers had waved me goodbye and, in retrospect, whose letters to me while I was in Germany were a valuable source of fuel.

After my long space flight, I returned to Japan with the strange sense of having made a full orbit around the planet. The new studio was a little warehouse on the outskirts of Tokyo, in an area dotted with rice fields and small factories. When the wind blew, swirls of dust slipped in through the cracks, and water leaked down the walls in heavy rains. In my dilapidated warehouse, only one sheet of corrugated metal separated me from the summer heat and winter cold. Despite the funky environment, I was somehow able to keep in midnight contact with the cosmos—the beings I had drawn and painted in Germany began to mature. The emotional quality of the earlier work gave way to a new sense of composure. I worked at refining the former impulsiveness of the drawings and the monochromatic, almost reverent, backgrounds of the paintings. In my pursuit of fresh imagery, I switched from idle experimentation to a more workmanlike approach towards capturing what I saw beyond the canvas.

Children and animals—what simple motifs! Appearing on neat canvases or in ephemeral drawings, these figures are easy on the viewers’ eyes. Occasionally, they shake off my intentions and leap to the feet of their audience, never to return. Because my motifs are accessible, they are often only understood on a superficial level. Sometimes art that results from a long process of development receives only shallow general acceptance, and those who should be interpreting it fail to do so, either through a lack of knowledge or insufficient powers of expression. Take, for example, the music of a specific era. People who lived during this era will naturally appreciate the music that was then popular. Few of these listeners, however, will know, let alone value, the music produced by minor labels, by introspective musicians working under the radar, because it’s music that’s made in answer to an individual’s desire, not the desires of the times. In this way, people who say that “Nara loves rock,” or “Nara loves punk” should see my album collection. Of four thousand records there are probably fewer than fifty punk albums. I do have a lot of 60s and 70s rock and roll, but most of my music is from little labels that never saw commercial success—traditional roots music by black musicians and white musicians, and contemplative folk. The spirit of any era gives birth to trends and fashions as well as their opposite: countless introspective individual worlds. A simultaneous embrace of both has cultivated my sensibility and way of thinking. My artwork is merely the tip of the iceberg that is my self. But if you analyzed the DNA from this tip, you would probably discover a new way of looking at my art. My viewers become a true audience when they take what I’ve made and make it their own. That’s the moment the works gain their freedom, even from their maker.

After contemplative folk singers taught me about deep empathy, the punk rockers schooled me in explosive expression.

I was born on this star, and I’m still breathing. Since childhood, I’ve been a jumble of things learned and experienced and memories that can’t be forgotten. Their involuntary locomotion is my inspiration. I don’t express in words the contents of my work. I’ll only tell you my history. The countless stories living inside my work would become mere fabrications the moment I put them into words. Instead, I use my pencil to turn them into pictures. Standing before the dark abyss, here’s hoping my spaceship launches safely tonight….

觀秀注意事項：
1. 請將畫質調高至2160，以取得最佳畫面清晰度。
2. 若有VR頭盔或Google Cardboard，建議務必佩戴使用，將有身歷其境的非凡體驗。

PLEASE NOTICE：
1. As the content was rendered with 3D stereoscopic with 8K resolution, it is suggested to view it with 3D VR headset for the best experience.

2. In case you don't have the headset, you can still experience it using Google Cardboard, with a down-graded quality.

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JENN LEE 21FW探索內心世界，忘卻物質的渴求，回歸精神的平衡與根本。

「過去、現在與未來的你都是不同的你，因為條件都不同，如果我們能把每個剎那當作生活片段來過活，會感到很感恩。」

由於全球疫情蔓延，JENN LEE 21FW以VR360沈浸式虛擬世界的新科技展出，時尚跨界新科技。以東方哲學思想「宇宙恆變」、「自然融合」與「活在當下」的創作概念，創造「變」與「流動」的視覺。

與兩度獲得亞洲最指標的電影獎項「金馬獎」的電影特效團隊「再現影像」，以及創媒空間國際有限公司主理人李奕慶擔任創意指導合作人林合一「LOVE PLANET VR360」虛擬新星球。

「你覺得愛是什麼？你想對誰說愛？」


Inspired and drawn from an Eastern philosophy “The universe is in eternal change”; highlighting the fact that we must live for the moment and embrace living in harmony with the substance of everything that exists. The VR showcase aims to bring together visually, the ideas of transformation and dissipation.

A chaotic VR world is juxtaposed with real characters from our everyday life. Jenn Lee and Golden Horse Award winning film company Renovatio Pictures, Inc. set about to invite a group of Taiwanese celebrities, actors, musicians, influencers, make-up artists and designers to participate in seeking Utopia via Virtual Reality.

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JENN LEE Team
李維錚 Wei Chen Lee
劉芸庭 Liu Yun Ting
吳霈萱 Wu Pei Xuan
毛紫函 Mao Tzu Han
賴映宇 Lai Ying Yu
葉祐誠 Yeh Yu Cheng
楊嘉靜 Yang Chia Ching
江聿涵 Jiang Yu Han
范棠棋 Fan Tang Chi
楊紫廷 Yang Tzu Ting
呂緣生 Lui Yuen Seng

Producer/ Photographer
費俊偉 Dennis Fei

視覺特效製作 再現影像製作股份有限公司
Visual Effects By Renovatio Pictures

視覺特效總監 郭憲聰
Visual Effects Supervisor Tomi Kuo

特效製片 黃棨雋
VFX Producer Peter Huang

技術總監 范屹閔
Pipeline Technical Director Willy Fan

CG 總監 陳昭詠
CG Supervisor Chen Chao Yung

特效協調 陳姵均
VFX Coordinators Hulk Chen

合成組長 謝欣霏
Composition Lead Faye Hsieh

資深合成師 徐佳佑
Senior Compositor Shu Chia Yu


CG 數位視覺設計師 吳怡萱
CG Digital Artists Ella Wu

概念美術設計師 吳怡萱
Concept Deisgn Artist Ella Wu

特效協力 張泰軒
VFX Associate Ted Chang

行政企劃 黃千真
Administration Angel Huang

Creative Director
李奕慶 Kris Lee

Citizens of Love Planet
高捷 Jack Kao
高愛 Maggie Kao
黃宣 YELLOW
阿夜 Marz23
百勒絲 Fairy Pai
郝雲娟 Hao Yun Juan
Yolanda Milan
張維宸 Way Mask
祁麟 Cone
程琪 Kare Chen
傅昱 Fu Yu
陳映如 In Ru Chen
張迎盈 Asa
張允信 Forrest Chang
張彤宇 Claire Chang
費俊偉 Dennis Fei
李維錚 Wei Chen Lee
臭咪 Stinky Mimimi

Sponsors
文化部
Nike
Gentle Monster
DENNIS FEI
KCC 墾青集團
HER

Music
Cloudy Ku — Hermitage Bliss
Written by Cloudy Ku 庫巧兔

Mixing
Tim Whitten

Mastering
Lawrence English

© all rights reserved

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JENN LEE Facebook：https://www.facebook.com/official.JENNLEE
JENN LEE Instagram： https://www.instagram.com/jennlee_official
JENN LEE Website：http://www.jennleestudio.com
PR Contact (Taiwan)： ellenliujennlee@gmail.com
PR Contact ：roxannechen@dyelog.co.uk

#AnDyWuMUSICLAND #Mashup2020 “Golden Mess” (Best 130+ Pop Songs of 2020)
Music & Video Edited by AnDy Wu, Mastered by Sam Wu

FOLLOW ME:
IG: @ADWmusicland
TWITTER: @AnDy_Wu_
FB: @AnDyWuMUSICLAND
Business contact: adwmusicland@gmail.com

To get the exclusive DL link & the first info,
Join this group on FB: https://bit.ly/2sikwQH
(ORIGINAL & OFFICIAL INSTRUMENTAL)
*Answer the questions so you can join the group

LYRICS w/ CLEAN Ver.: https://youtu.be/8MF2u9VATrU
COMPLETE SONG LIST: https://bit.ly/3mNJCRJ
SPOTIFY MIX PLAYLIST: http://spoti.fi/3hpXpNn

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2020 is a Golden Mess, and we couldn’t have survived without numbing ourselves with something euphoric, exciting, and addictive. A real bummer is when it comes to an end and we’re brought back to reality.

This mashup is an experience from Hallucination to Exhilaration to Frustration, and after that, hopefully, we all get the Realization that — Life’s a Mess, but nonetheless, life is good and life will go on like this again. All we could do at this moment is to get back to the root of our selves, to spend more time with our family and the people we love, and maybe at the end of the day, we all get to know the reason to keep going on. Life is a mess, but that’s okay.

4 Parts of “Golden Mess”—
Intro 0:00
I. Hallucination 0:36
II. Exhilaration 3:53
III. Frustration 7:18
IV. Realization 8:39

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Software I used:
Ableton Live 9 Suite, iZotope RX7 Audio Editor (music), Final Cut Pro (video)

#AnDyWuMUSICLAND #Mashup2019 “Kill The Unknown” (Best 158 Pop Songs of 2019)
Music & Video Edited by AnDy Wu, Mastered by Sam Wu

FOLLOW ME:
FB: @AnDyWuMUSICLAND
IG: @ADWmusicland
TWITTER: @AnDy_Wu_
Business contact: adwmusicland@gmail.com

To get the exclusive DL link & the first info,
Join this group on FB: https://bit.ly/2sikwQH
(ORIGINAL & OFFICIAL INSTRUMENTAL)
*Answer the questions so you can join the group

COMPLETE SONG LIST: http://bit.ly/2YJrhe4
SPOTIFY 158 PLAYLIST: https://spoti.fi/2YGXnqZ

NEW 2019 MERCH AVAIL RN!!
https://teespring.com/stores/andywumu...
(Use PROMO CODE: ADW2019 to get 30% off before DEC 31st!)
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Have you ever held the hand of the person you loved and hope everything stays the same? What a shame that life never goes according to our plans. In the loop of getting hurt and beat by the feeling, we often think life won’t be the same again. But right here, right now, I need all of you to know that we ALL GOT THE POWER to change, we all got the right to live a happier life. We dance, we move on. This year’s mashup is by far the most powerful one I’ve ever made. Please remember no matter what happens, you’re still the queen & king, you’re the badass. Let’s kill the unknown.

6 Chapters of "Kill The Unknown”--
I. She kills this love. 00:00
II. She got the power. 01:19
III. She dances. 03:05
IV. She got it. 04:35
V. She'll find love. 05:50
VI. Her Whole New World 07:53

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Software I used:
Ableton Live 9 Suite, iZotope RX7 Audio Editor (music), DaVinci Resolve 15 (video)