A Painting Of A Man With His Hands On His Back Art

a painting of a man with his hands on his back
a painting of a man with his hands behind his back
a painting of a man with his hands on his head
a painting of a man with his hands on his head
a painting of a man with his hands on his chest
a painting of a man with his hands on his head
a painting of a man with his hand on his chest
a painting of a man with his hand on his head
Inside an informal church in Kuala Lumpur. Wing Sun and his father and mother, along with Siu Zi, his friend from school are there together. We are standing in the back of the room, and there are many more people than there were in the London church. There are people of different ethnicities, but mostly Chinese Malaysian. The Pastor, a Chinese man, is standing up front speaking to the congregation, facing them. The atmosphere is hot and sweaty, with ceiling fans running, but still welcoming, Wing Sun is happy that his family is together and also that his friend Siu Zi, who he has just learned is a Christian, can be there too.
A biblical scene of Moses anointing Aaron with oil, inspired by the Book of Exodus. Moses, an older man with a long white beard, is holding a golden goblet and pouring oil directly onto Aaron's uncovered head. Moses is not wearing glasses, and his hands do not touch Aaron's head. Aaron is a man in his 50s with a full beard, dressed in ornate priestly robes with a richly colored ephod and no head covering. The oil flows visibly onto Aaron's head, beard, and garments. The setting is a desert-like environment near the Tabernacle, with woven curtains in the background, illuminated by warm, divine light. The scene reflects a biblical atmosphere with historically accurate clothing and details.
a painting of a man with his back to the camera
a painting of a man with his back to the camera
a painting of a man with his hands in the air
a painting of a man with his hands in the air
a painting of a man with his hands in the air
a painting of a man with his hands in the air
At the bustling Kuala Lumpur airport, Wing-Sun and his Mother say farewell to his father before he leaves for a six‐week business trip to London. We see Wing Sun and his mother from the back, as Father stands on the escalator going up to his departure gate, and turns toward us to wave goodbye. Many other passengers and children are standing around. The airport is modern and well lit.
a man with his hands in his pockets
a man with his hands on his head
a man with his hands in his pockets
a man with his hands on his face
a man with his hands on his head
a painting of a man with his hands in the air
a painting of a man with his hands behind his head
a painting of a man with his hands in the air
a painting of a man with his hands behind his head
a painting of a shirtless man with his hands on his chest
First century Jerusalem at the "gate beautiful" to the temple grounds. Peter and John were going up to the temple at the hour of prayer, the ninth hour. And a man lame from birth was being carried, whom they laid daily at the gate of the temple that is called the Beautiful Gate to ask alms of those entering the temple. Seeing Peter and John about to go into the temple, he asked to receive alms. And Peter directed his gaze at him, as did John, and said, “Look at us.” And he fixed his attention on them, expecting to receive something from them. But Peter said, “I have no silver and gold, but what I do have I give to you. In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, rise up and walk!” And he took him by the right hand and raised him up, and immediately his feet and ankles were made strong.
a painting of a man holding his hands over a book
a man standing with his hands on his hips
An Asian Slice At the dark end of an alley on a moonless night, A youth squats low to the ground, turned toward the wall with his face in his lap. Someone might think he’s sleeping. He’s smoking heroin. Soon he’ll fall over and soil himself, and stay right there until dawn. Back at the neon-lit mouth of this dark alley, hookers walk back and forth, hurrying to get past the alley, either for fear or because is smells so bad. Eyelids, all painted golden, Asian whores always look like they’re made of candy. Candy it is; but a snarling cat awaits its prey.
a man holding a rope in his hands
a painting of a man with his head in his hands
a painting of a man with his head in his hands
An Asian Slice At the dark end of an alley on a moonless night, A youth squats low to the ground, turned toward the wall with his face in his lap. Someone might think he’s sleeping. He’s smoking heroin. Soon he’ll fall over and soil himself, and stay right there until dawn. Back at the neon-lit mouth of this dark alley, hookers walk back and forth, hurrying to get past the alley, either for fear or because is smells so bad. Eyelids, all painted golden, Asian whores always look like they’re made of candy. Candy it is; but a snarling cat awaits its prey.
a painting of a man laying on his back
a painting of a man with his hands up in the air
a painting of a man with an angel on his back
Inside a home in Petaling Jaya, Wing-Sun, a 10 year old Chinese boy sits cross-legged on the cool tile floor, watching the delicate tendrils of smoke rise from the joss sticks his father has just placed in the family altar’s bronze urn. The flickering candlelight casts shifting shadows over the framed portraits of the ancestors, their solemn faces gazing out from another time. Wing-Sun's father, dressed in crisp slacks and a neatly pressed white shirt, murmurs a quiet prayer, his voice low and rhythmic. Beside him, Wing-Sun’s mother clasps her hands together in a quiet moment of respect before adjusting the jade bangle on her wrist. Their morning ritual is a quiet, practiced thing; one they perform, and Wing-Sun observes, every day.
a painting of a man holding his hands up
At his Grandmother's house in Penang, Wing Sun is lying down on a futon in his bedroom, covered up with a beautiful lightweight quilt Grandma made. Outside his room the rain is coming down. In Penang, every corner of the old town—every whisper of the wind through ancient trees—seems to echo with promises of renewal and love. And as the rain softens outside, Wing-Sun closes his eyes with the comforting knowledge that every detour, every farewell, is simply a step toward a new beginning. A lantern gives soft light to the room, and all is quiet.
Inside a large office building in London, on the 5th floor, Wing Sun's father, a Chinese Malaysian man in his 30s, speaks to his counterpart in the company, and English man, about business. Other workers are seated at their desks and standing at a copy machine. There are some Black people, but mostly British. One whole wall of the room is glass and we can see something of London outside.