To that end, I select three emblematic elements to index former bonds of space and belonging: aging doors to which no one returns, earthen ground soon to be paved with cement, and ponds soon to be leveled. Methodologically, I take rubbings of roads on extra-long scrolls of xuan paper, letting “walking” and “touching” happen at once; I record the changes of ponds over the span of a year, letting the waterline become the most honest register of time; and I photograph household doors that wait but are no longer opened. In the crossings of these three threads, I hope to inscribe both the yearning for new beginnings and the hesitations and tug-of-war within urban–rural divides, settling this complexity into ink and paper.
To that end, I select three emblematic elements to index former bonds of space and belonging: aging doors to which no one returns, earthen ground soon to be paved with cement, and ponds soon to be leveled. Methodologically, I take rubbings of roads on extra-long scrolls of xuan paper, letting “walking” and “touching” happen at once; I record the changes of ponds over the span of a year, letting the waterline become the most honest register of time; and I photograph household doors that wait but are no longer opened. In the crossings of these three threads, I hope to inscribe both the yearning for new beginnings and the hesitations and tug-of-war within urban–rural divides, settling this complexity into ink and paper.