There are some hidden feeling in my mind, maybe it was the remains of some events, or some emotion, even some wreckage of some of my thought, when time goes by, they become mass each occupy a corner of my mind. Usually not well seen, but at some moment it will emerge in a chaotic gesture, hovering above my visual mind. So, I created.
I prefer to create my works with natural materials such as sea-washed bones, artless rocks, rusty iron…, and, in particular, plants. Seeing a shriveled tree, I just can’t help but feel a bizarre sense of disharmony. A shriveled tree is always isolated as the only focused object by vision at first sight because of its blastment, and the symbol it connotes forces me to behold it. And, it’s always labeled “Time.”
Since every natural object is a symbolic form of nature’s chaos, so when its life stops moving on, the chaos that drives and provides life seems to leave a tiny piece of wreckage or dust behind like a quick shot photo of memory of a time fragment. Such things have always been calling and appealing to me.
I submit the calling, abide by the existing forms and texture, and express my own response moderately—just like agree with the calling genuinely.