Installation view © GalleryMEME

Artist’s Note
 

Always Just Out of Reach

It feels like I’ve missed the timing—or perhaps like a thin thread that should have remained connected has been severed. When I open a book and a flood of words pours out to fill the page, the uncertain origins of what I see in front of me seem to attempt to reveal themselves from all directions. To narrow down their essence, I turn my gaze this way and that. Again, I’ve missed the timing.

My skin remembers past experiences. Fragments of memory are carefully inscribed beneath its surface. Yet, there remains a precarious gap between the landscape and myself. Something ever so slightly different from what my skin remembers divides the two with sharp precision.


Installation view © GalleryMEME

I often go out on field trips. Before capturing a scene with my camera, I first look through the viewfinder of my mind. Long curving lines, fluttering triangles, chewed square pieces, rippling sheets of paper, clattering piles of mountains—these visual elements form my own compositional language. On canvas, I blur, cover, or scrape away the surface with paint to reveal texture. I fill the empty gaps of information that separate the actual world from my mental viewfinder with new fragments and forms.

Have they gained new life?

Am I doing this right?

References