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Inkjet print, Diasec (acrylic, aluminum frame)



The collapse of the Twin Towers in 2001, the 2004 Indian Ocean tsunami, the March 11 nuclear disaster in Japan in 2011, these catastrophic aftermaths were all broadcasted through the media. The architectural ruins mixed with unrecognizable man-made products were covered in mud slides and dirt. Debris, fragments, scraps formed my impression of the beginning of the 21st century. The title Debris refers to all residuals, mostly man-made, left after disasters. Intuitively, the word serves as a description of the sculptural form in this series; and through this word, I further explore the changing identity of usable and unusable contemporary “objects (products)” in digital and material forms.


I use 3D modelling software to create debris-like 3D models that are virtually functionless in reality, skipping the process of material production and only keeping the computed images. By reorganizing the procedures that constitute a product’s life, including design (start), production (process) and disposal (end), the beginning is rendered no different from the end—“to become useless debris” is essentially the meaning of the production.


While the image looks like a painting, the process of creating the image using the software, on the other hand, resembles the making of a sculpture, even though the final product is only a piece of photographic paper. It records the simulations of various materials and the rendering of light, using the image to render material dematerialized and compressing the body into the 2.5 dimensions. The approach highlights the pureness of 3D software/image as an instrument/material and responds to modern visual experience.


Debris has evolved into several subseries since 2011. To avoid falling into formal inertia, the making of the series has been slow, and I have re-examined the meaning of Debris in every stage.



Small Sceneries


Since 2020, the world has entered the pandemic era. Although wars and natural disasters have never ceased, we have become numb. Beyond physical destruction, the ideological fragmentation between people is even more shocking, with various issues and stances labeling and dividing society. 


This series, tentatively called landscape paintings, uses models I collected in the Amazon rainforest in 2022. Where these natural objects were collected may not be so important, as our city-spoiled senses can no longer discern the subtle differences in the natural world. The digital compression and removal of environmental context make these models more alien yet familiar, like the nature we face. Landscape painting is an ancient tradition across cultures. Through my understanding of them, I manipulate, destroy, and reassemble the models into images. Digital tools allow me to bypass what I consider the heavy burden of painting, navigating the blurry path between material and digital, image and painting, and traversing different painting contexts of past and present, inside and out. I hope to find a new way of creating that doesn’t need to serve external issues, continuing a pure creation that exerts inward, even if the process still reacts to external changes.




2022 - 2023

I often question whether I truly love nature? The city is so comfortable, and as an urban dweller, it's become increasingly difficult for me to see nature as a utopia for humanity. However, I am still curious and captivated by it, much like one admires a foreign culture from the heart.

Looking back at the model I did in the rainforest, the air, light and shadow, and scents that lingered in my memory are digitally recreated as fragments, as if I'm "logging in" to those moments. Drawing inspiration from the Eastern style of "album leaves," each piece in this series centers around a specific plant, object, or scene I encountered in the rainforest. The goal isn't to digitally simulate nature, but rather to attempt to find the intersection between the two, almost like experiencing a déjà vu.