A Million Faces of My Life series
2017 - 2019
Various Dimensions
Various Medium


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︎︎︎previous work

The concept of time is to me like a giant breathing single-celled creature. It is inspired by the novel of Jean Paul Sartre, Nausea, 1938.

There is only one code of conduct, that is, irreversible in direction. I don't know if it's hard- hearted not to slow down to keep the good things around, or to speed up in order to resolve grief. In short, most of the time it will only move forward non-stop, no matter how we ask for mercy, the time does not hear. We cannot communicate in different dimensions. But sometimes time seems to be static, which is especially difficult for us to process.

For example, when I am alone there is nothing to do, so I have to wait. Boringly sitting at the table, my body was in a daze, and some inexplicable ideas were running unconsciously at high speed in my head, like the big wheel of a lottery frantically stirring the number balls. My eyes stared straight ahead at where the nose is pointing at — the other end of the table, or the wall? There seemed to be nothing between my nose and the wall, at least I couldn't see anything. Nothing can be touch neither when I wave my hand. But I feel that in front of the tip of my nose, shamelessly, regardless of personal privacy space, there exists an airbag of time in silence. It flooded the entire room with empty spaces. Almost the same as air, but politely maintain a physical distance of a few centimetres from people and objects, so as not to hate it immediately. But I feel like it's being commissioned somehow to monitor every move of the world.