Collecting the flowers on the roadside, recording the coordinates of the positioning and growth environment. After taking the photos of the beauty of the blooms, I picked the flowers. In the studio, the beauty became to shrivel. The withered flowers were preserved in the ice. In the exhibition, all the flowers smash into a flower juice.
The creation is a memory of childhood. When I were kid, I loved to pick flowers and place them in the table to accompany in the class. Through this form of creation, the act of watching and picking is the reply of past memories, revisiting the world around you, but also lamenting the indifference to the surrounding environment and the disappearance and demise of life in a busy life.