母親譜曲；父親填詞
I am a song —
composed by my mother,
with lyrics written by my father.
2021
Mixed-media installation | Dimensions variable.
〈White Vessel〉
linen, LED lights, optical fiber,
linen fiber, mineral stone, Xuan paper, ink
〈To Walk into Time〉
Xuan paper, oil-based ink, pencil, wood, hardware
Single-channel
Video: 4K, color, 3’28’’ Mandarin subtitle
《我是一首歌，母親譜曲，父親填詞》，結合了兩個在同一時間跨度中誕生的創作：《白衣》與《日子、走入》。生命就像容器，它們分別紀念了父親母親在我身上模塑的痕跡和那總是遲來但又持續顫動的日常。
一邊哼唱；一編成譜。
／
《白衣》是一件關於包覆、生成與脆弱的裝置作品。作品誕生於一個生命現場——家裡的母貓生了一窩小貓。這是為母親做的，一個纖維織出的臨時子宮和一條發光的臍帶。最後它變成了一封信。
織物順服於重力；光纖潛藏著斷裂的可能。進入裝置空間，如同穿越產道或進入體內。「母體」作為無法被命名、無法完全抵達卻持續召喚的空間，總是動態地在觀看、觸摸、記憶與離開之間不斷生成。
《白衣》試圖將這種渴望與失落的循環具象化為空間經驗，使每個進入其中的身體，都暫時地經歷一次返母的運動——在觸覺與感知中書寫出各自的親密史。
／
《日子 走入》源於一次跟爸爸去南投－丹大林道的爬山經驗，歷時一個星期的步行、野營。才突然意識到爸爸老了，脆弱得不經風雨。因冬天的緣故，風景大多是枯枝槁木和咖啡帶黃的植物，唯有少數的新芽。在寒冷不眠的夜晚，伴隨著爸爸的打呼聲，一吐氣就結霜、入雲。
《日子 走入》是一件以行走、陪伴與內省為核心的跨媒材作品。在當中，親密關係充滿未曾察覺的失落與感傷。寒冷與疲憊讓身體的極限與環境深度疊合，個體的感知在自然的流動中，展現出一種與世界共呼吸的默契。呼吸和鼾聲成為身體與世界的動態邊界，使觀看與經驗同時指向有限、自由與存在的不可知提問，並在不確定中尋找一絲啟示。
影像字幕內容：
其實我也完全不懂啊
人類是什麼呢？
人為什麼誕生呢？
應該如何生存呢？
會得到救贖嗎？
我不知道
在混沌的黑暗中
痛苦
纏繞不去
不斷犯錯
你在說自己嗎？
是的
在我的心裡
也有執著
那些東西存在
當那些東西成為主導時
我會覺得自己走過的路
是毫無意義的
聲音
是誰的？
那個聲音告訴我
我的
你的
生存之道
過去也好
未來也好
一切都已經由上天
做出完美的決定
因此
你完全是自由的
然後我得到頓悟
不跟上天聯繫起來
那麼生存就只剩痛苦
假如誕生真的有其價值
那就給我一點啟示
之後我就可以接受自己的存在
（光）
門扉開啟了
長久被關閉起來的門扉不計其數
但他們都一次開啟了
自由本來就是這樣
與你們一直以來所認識的自由是不一樣的
人是無限的。
一邊哼唱；一編成譜。
／
《白衣》是一件關於包覆、生成與脆弱的裝置作品。作品誕生於一個生命現場——家裡的母貓生了一窩小貓。這是為母親做的，一個纖維織出的臨時子宮和一條發光的臍帶。最後它變成了一封信。
織物順服於重力；光纖潛藏著斷裂的可能。進入裝置空間，如同穿越產道或進入體內。「母體」作為無法被命名、無法完全抵達卻持續召喚的空間，總是動態地在觀看、觸摸、記憶與離開之間不斷生成。
《白衣》試圖將這種渴望與失落的循環具象化為空間經驗，使每個進入其中的身體，都暫時地經歷一次返母的運動——在觸覺與感知中書寫出各自的親密史。
／
《日子 走入》源於一次跟爸爸去南投－丹大林道的爬山經驗，歷時一個星期的步行、野營。才突然意識到爸爸老了，脆弱得不經風雨。因冬天的緣故，風景大多是枯枝槁木和咖啡帶黃的植物，唯有少數的新芽。在寒冷不眠的夜晚，伴隨著爸爸的打呼聲，一吐氣就結霜、入雲。
《日子 走入》是一件以行走、陪伴與內省為核心的跨媒材作品。在當中，親密關係充滿未曾察覺的失落與感傷。寒冷與疲憊讓身體的極限與環境深度疊合，個體的感知在自然的流動中，展現出一種與世界共呼吸的默契。呼吸和鼾聲成為身體與世界的動態邊界，使觀看與經驗同時指向有限、自由與存在的不可知提問，並在不確定中尋找一絲啟示。
影像字幕內容：
其實我也完全不懂啊
人類是什麼呢？
人為什麼誕生呢？
應該如何生存呢？
會得到救贖嗎？
我不知道
在混沌的黑暗中
痛苦
纏繞不去
不斷犯錯
你在說自己嗎？
是的
在我的心裡
也有執著
那些東西存在
當那些東西成為主導時
我會覺得自己走過的路
是毫無意義的
聲音
是誰的？
那個聲音告訴我
我的
你的
生存之道
過去也好
未來也好
一切都已經由上天
做出完美的決定
因此
你完全是自由的
然後我得到頓悟
不跟上天聯繫起來
那麼生存就只剩痛苦
假如誕生真的有其價值
那就給我一點啟示
之後我就可以接受自己的存在
（光）
門扉開啟了
長久被關閉起來的門扉不計其數
但他們都一次開啟了
自由本來就是這樣
與你們一直以來所認識的自由是不一樣的
人是無限的。
I am a song—composed by my mother, with lyrics written by my father. This work brings together two creations born within the same span of time: White Vessel and To Walk into Time. Life, like a vessel, holds traces—a quiet memory of how my mother and father once moved through me, and the rhythm of days that arrive unhurried, yet continue to stir softly within.
One hums; the other weaves it into a score.
/
White Vessel is an installation about enclosure, generation, and vulnerability. The work originated from a moment of life—a litter of kittens born to the family’s mother cat. It was created for my own mother: a temporary womb woven from fiber, and a luminous umbilical cord. In the end, it became a letter.
The fabric yields to gravity; the optical fiber always harbors the possibility of rupture. Entering the installation space is like passing through a birth canal or entering an interior. The “maternal body” is a space that cannot be named or fully reached, yet continually calls out—always dynamically generated between seeing, touching, remembering, and departing.
White Vessel attempts to give spatial form to this cycle of longing and loss, allowing every body that enters to temporarily experience a return to the maternal—to inscribe their own histories of intimacy through touch and sensation.
/
To Walk into Time originated from a hiking trip with my father along the Danda Forest Road in Nantou—a week of walking and camping in the mountains.
It was only then that I suddenly realized my father had grown old, his body now fragile and unable to withstand the wind and rain. Because it was winter, the landscape was mostly withered branches, dead wood, and coffee-yellow plants, with only a few new buds emerging. On those cold, sleepless nights, accompanied by my father’s snoring, each breath turned to frost and drifted into the clouds.
To Walk into Time is a cross-media work centered on walking, companionship, and introspection. Within it, intimacy is infused with unnoticed loss and sorrow. Cold and fatigue brought my physical limits into deep alignment with the environment, and my perception, flowing with the rhythms of nature, developed a subtle sense of “breathing together” with the world. Breaths and snores became shifting boundaries between body and world, making seeing and experiencing inseparable from questions of finitude, freedom, and existence, and inspiring a search for fleeting insights amid uncertainty.
Video subtitle content:
To be honest, I don’t understand at all.
What is it to be human?
Why are we born?
How should we live?
Will we be redeemed?
I don’t know.
In the chaos of darkness,
There is pain
that clings and will not leave,
and mistakes, made again and again.
Are you speaking about yourself?
Yes.
In my heart,
there is also attachment.
Those things are present.
When those things take over,
I feel that the path I have walked
is utterly meaningless.
Voice—
Whose voice is it?
That voice tells me—
Mine.
Yours.
Your way of being,
whether past
or future,
everything has already been
perfectly decided by Heaven.
Therefore—
You are completely free.
And then I realize—
If I do not connect with Heaven,
then existence is nothing but suffering.
If being born truly has any value,
then give me some sign.
Then, I might accept my own existence.
(Light.)
The doors open.
So many doors have been closed for so long,
but now, all of them open at once.
That is what freedom really is.
It is not the same freedom you have always known.
Human beings are infinite.
One hums; the other weaves it into a score.
/
White Vessel is an installation about enclosure, generation, and vulnerability. The work originated from a moment of life—a litter of kittens born to the family’s mother cat. It was created for my own mother: a temporary womb woven from fiber, and a luminous umbilical cord. In the end, it became a letter.
The fabric yields to gravity; the optical fiber always harbors the possibility of rupture. Entering the installation space is like passing through a birth canal or entering an interior. The “maternal body” is a space that cannot be named or fully reached, yet continually calls out—always dynamically generated between seeing, touching, remembering, and departing.
White Vessel attempts to give spatial form to this cycle of longing and loss, allowing every body that enters to temporarily experience a return to the maternal—to inscribe their own histories of intimacy through touch and sensation.
/
To Walk into Time originated from a hiking trip with my father along the Danda Forest Road in Nantou—a week of walking and camping in the mountains.
It was only then that I suddenly realized my father had grown old, his body now fragile and unable to withstand the wind and rain. Because it was winter, the landscape was mostly withered branches, dead wood, and coffee-yellow plants, with only a few new buds emerging. On those cold, sleepless nights, accompanied by my father’s snoring, each breath turned to frost and drifted into the clouds.
To Walk into Time is a cross-media work centered on walking, companionship, and introspection. Within it, intimacy is infused with unnoticed loss and sorrow. Cold and fatigue brought my physical limits into deep alignment with the environment, and my perception, flowing with the rhythms of nature, developed a subtle sense of “breathing together” with the world. Breaths and snores became shifting boundaries between body and world, making seeing and experiencing inseparable from questions of finitude, freedom, and existence, and inspiring a search for fleeting insights amid uncertainty.
Video subtitle content:
To be honest, I don’t understand at all.
What is it to be human?
Why are we born?
How should we live?
Will we be redeemed?
I don’t know.
In the chaos of darkness,
There is pain
that clings and will not leave,
and mistakes, made again and again.
Are you speaking about yourself?
Yes.
In my heart,
there is also attachment.
Those things are present.
When those things take over,
I feel that the path I have walked
is utterly meaningless.
Voice—
Whose voice is it?
That voice tells me—
Mine.
Yours.
Your way of being,
whether past
or future,
everything has already been
perfectly decided by Heaven.
Therefore—
You are completely free.
And then I realize—
If I do not connect with Heaven,
then existence is nothing but suffering.
If being born truly has any value,
then give me some sign.
Then, I might accept my own existence.
(Light.)
The doors open.
So many doors have been closed for so long,
but now, all of them open at once.
That is what freedom really is.
It is not the same freedom you have always known.
Human beings are infinite.
White Vessel (installation view) 1/16
White Vessel (installation view) 2/16
White Vessel (installation view) 3/16
White Vessel (installation view) 4/16
White Vessel (installation view) 5/16
White Vessel (installation view) 6/16
White Vessel (installation view) 7/16
White Vessel (letter) 8/16
White Vessel (letter) 9/16
White Vessel (letter) 10/16
To Walk into Time (installation view) 11/16
To Walk into Time (Detail page) 11/16
To Walk into Time (Detail page) 11/16
To Walk into Time (installation view) 11/16
To Walk into Time (Sketches) 11/16
To Walk into Time (still) 11/16