Copyright 2018-20180

Log, or a list of things that remind me of home.
14 Apr 2024, London.

8 Apr 2024, London.
Looking back at my first round of project review, my professor seemed to hesitate in understanding the shape of Chinese characters, or perhaps another language in general. A classmate exchanged a short Japanese phrase with me, just as I sometimes exchanged short German phrases with another classmate. What if understanding a natural landscape also requires comprehension of the shape of its spoken language? The silhouette, the rhythm, the spacing, the flow, the void, the distant echo, and the resemblance from one to another—what if we should acknowledge that the working definitions between individuals will always be different? What if we should never listen in order to "understand," but rather to explore and expand the existing continents of knowledge?

5 Feb 2024, London.

Dear Bo (my plant),

Today is my first day of placement. I thought looking at satellite images would be easy until it became extremely painful to view, then making it visible to those innocent eyes. L asked me to take care of her cactus while she travels. I said I’m not good at it, meanwhile forgetting I have a garden of leafy friends miles away. I miss them all too.


22 Jan 2024, London.

Last Friday, I asked my classmates why all the grapes in the supermarket are seedless. I can't remember if the question was answered. Today, when I went to the supermarket again, I found packs of seedless grapes. I used to hate picking out the seeds from them one by one when I was little. However, now, the word "seedless" also bothers me, as if the connection to it has changed. I can't plant them now. Its life, or more broadly, the circulation has a certain end.

March-May 2023, Germany.
On the way home — Notes written during a 5-week trip in Germany

It’s been a while since I flew, maybe three years or more. I used to be more comfortable leaving home, yet after covid I became more sensitive to loud sound, sometimes I feel as if a part of me had collapsed, and I always need to have an extra pair of earplugs in my emergency pack, together with white flower oil, some probiotics and painkillers, and a tiny pack of chocolate cookies. The outdoors has been much louder and the streets were packed with more dialects. I, as described by a friend, seem to be always running forward to chase something from the past. The sense of losing has never been more apparent.

Below are some fragmented notes I wrote during the trip:

因為作品入選波昂錄像藝術雙年展(Videonale),匆忙去了德國一趟。我在雙年展中跟策展人笑言自己過往差不多每隔五年都會來到德國,因此在這好像遠距離地記錄了自己的成長。2014年因大學短期交流第一次遊歷德國,到訪柏林的Pictoplasma 動畫節,因此認識電影競賽這回事。2017年也因着教授的緣故到訪西班牙的LOOP Barcelona,以及德國的Documenta和 Skulptur Projekte Münster,因此認識了Vasulkas,從而在他們的剪報裏得知了Videonale。2023年,我的作品在Videonale展覽中出現了,儘管跟我聊天的策展人不知道Vasulkas 讓我有點落寞,但有一種實實在在抵達一個接近巨人的地方。



Whenever I see birds, I feel safe.
I am not sure whether it is because of staring at birds flying , or whether …


(2024年1月24日後記:2023年在慵懶中又有點過於擠迫,常常忘左忙右。筆記簿留了在香港,之後再緩慢更新。 )