《南方雪》的構想最早來自我第一次看見雪景的經驗。白雪覆蓋了原本熟悉的樹木與街景，使事物呈現出陌生的樣貌。我開始想像，當生長於溫暖南方的植物，遇上遙遠北方的雪景，兩種不同環境的形態與記憶，會如何在同一個空間中交會。

​

這次展覽，我重新回想了許多關於家鄉的風景。其中兩件白色浮雕，來自一條讓我印象深刻的產業道路。道路兩側的森林彼此相望，繁密的枝葉交錯生長，像是兩個獨立卻又相互呼應的世界。大型花朵則取材自路邊常見的大花咸豐草，我將它放大到接近人體的尺度，而散落在空間中的細小碎片，有些延伸自浮雕中的植物形態，遠遠看去又像是花朵散開的花粉。還有那些藏在草叢與行道樹之間的路燈，都是我熟悉的南方風景。我試著將這些記憶重新組合，讓它們在不同的尺度與觀看距離之間，慢慢形成一片帶有夢境感的雪白景象。

​

我一直很喜歡植物生長後留下的姿態，無論是枝幹的伸展，或是逐漸枯萎的根系。在製作時，我透過金屬骨架支撐，再將流動的材料一層層包覆上去，等待它們凝結。有時候我覺得，這個過程像是試著留住某個正在改變的瞬間。這幾年經歷了一些事情，也讓我對生命的生長、衰老與離去，有了不同的感受。我開始更在意那些相互依靠的關係，以及當一個形體逐漸改變，還有什麼能夠被留下來。這些難以說清楚的情感，也慢慢進入了花朵、枝幹與相互連結的形體之中。

​

對我來說，「雙生」讓我想起道路兩側彼此相望的森林，也讓我想到生命之間親近卻無法完全重疊的關係。每次回到家鄉，熟悉的風景似乎依然存在，卻總覺得有些東西已悄然改變。花朵、枝幹與細小碎片因包覆而得以留存，原本清晰的輪廓也在凝結中逐漸模糊。熟悉的痕跡仍在，卻有了陌生的樣貌。它們像是還在生長，也像是停留在某個已經過去的時刻。

 

​

Southern Snow began with my first encounter with snow. As snow covered familiar trees and streets, the surroundings took on an unfamiliar appearance. I began to imagine what might happen if plants growing in the warm south encountered the distant snowscapes of the north, and how the forms and memories of these two different environments might come together in the same space.

For this exhibition, I found myself returning to many memories of my hometown. Two white relief sculptures were inspired by a rural road that has stayed in my mind for years. Forests stand on either side of the road, facing one another, their dense branches intertwining like two separate yet connected worlds. The large flower-like sculpture takes its form from Bidens pilosa, a common roadside wildflower, enlarged to nearly human scale. Some of the small fragments scattered throughout the space extend the botanical forms found in the reliefs, while from a distance, they resemble pollen drifting away from a flower. Streetlights hidden among grasses and roadside trees are also familiar parts of the southern landscape I remember. I bring these memories together, allowing them to gradually form a dreamlike white landscape through changes in scale and viewing distance.

I have always been drawn to the forms plants leave behind as they grow, whether in the reaching branches or the roots that slowly wither. In my work, I build metal armatures and cover them with successive layers of fluid materials, waiting for them to solidify. Sometimes, this process feels like an attempt to hold on to a moment that is already changing. Experiences over the past few years have also changed the way I think about growth, aging, and the passing of life. I have become more attentive to the ways we depend on one another, and to what might remain as a form gradually changes. These feelings, often difficult to put into words, have slowly found their way into my flowers, branches, and interconnected forms.

For me, "twinning" brings to mind the forests facing one another across the road, as well as the closeness between lives that can never completely overlap. Whenever I return to my hometown, the familiar landscapes seem to remain, yet something always feels quietly different. The flowers, branches, and small fragments are preserved through layers of material, even as their once distinct outlines gradually become blurred. Familiar traces remain, yet their forms have become strangely unfamiliar. They seem to be still growing, while also belonging to a moment that has already passed.