Solitude series

The Solitude series presents landscapes and quiet urban scenes imbued with a sense of stillness and emotional distance. Figures are often absent, yet human presence lingers—in architecture, light, and atmosphere—creating spaces that feel remembered rather than observed. These works explore themes of isolation, impermanence, and the quiet dignity of everyday moments. Through restrained colour, layered ink washes, and evocative compositions, the series invites viewers into a contemplative state where solitude is not emptiness, but a condition for reflection and self-awareness. In this silence, the works offer a subtle form of consolation.

Morphine (Plant series)

Plant series is an allegory of my life using a typical pot of plant, with young shoots at the bottom, and older leaves at the top, wilted and browned, having endured the effects of the sun and weather. Our lives are like that, keeping the marks of struggles and pain on us as we age. Like this plant, most of us remain insignificant and unremarkable, going from youth to wilt without blooming and without legacy. But such is life, ever tragic, inconspicuous, and filled with regrets.

Road to the loss of innocence 失去纯真之路

This works starts from an existentialist question of the purpose of our lives. We did not choose our own existence. Shortly after our birth, in a dazzled state, we were whisked into the institution of education, societal norms, conforming ethics and material consumerism (represented by the white-washed church-like building with an arched entrance). The society confounds us further, and religion and ethics numb our innate desire to question life. The only way is to exit the civilization and return to our child-like, native, and innocent state. There is no enlightenment here either, only desolation and wilderness. However, this solidarity state allows us to develop the courage to face and deal with our meaningless existence.

行走不停步，曼珠沙华开一路 Walking non-stop, Amaryllis blooms along the way

Amaryllis is also called the "graveyard flower". It is a beautiful but poisonous flower that grows in graveyards. This sentence is taken from the Japanese death haiku (short poem on death) by Taneda Santōka. It reminds that everyday lived is a day nearer to death, and expresses the Zen concept that death is an integral component of life and its beauty.

幽径

小径夹在建筑与树影之间。画中无声。斑驳的墙面、随风而动的叶影、不经意投下的光斑，构成了平凡中的深情。没有热烈的色彩，没有宏大的叙述，它只是静静地存在——如同我们生命中那些未被铭记的日常时刻，悄然流逝，却在心底留下余温。这幅画追求一种孤寂而不寂寞、内敛却深刻的美感。它不为取悦目光，而是等待某位静心之人，与之对视，心领神会。

残梦

This piece feels solemn and weathered. The deep crimson blossoms emerge from a backdrop of muted greys and blacks, their forms partially obscured as if they were seen through mist or from a fading recollection. The verticality of the stalks feels strong but not rigid—there’s a sense of endurance, as if these flowers have weathered wind and rain. The brushwork is raw and layered, with streaks and washes that let the pigments bleed into one another. This creates a tension between definition and dissolution: the flowers are recognisable, yet they seem on the verge of merging back into the background.
Emotionally, the work is as melancholic but dignified—like beauty persisting in spite of time, loss, or hardship. It reminds of the kind of imagery one might find in late autumn poetry, where blossoms are cherished precisely because they stand against decline.

往事如烟 Daybreak in Chengdu

At a forgotten street corner in Chengdu, dawn hesitates. The building’s façade—faintly seen through veils of ink—bears the silence of long-departed voices. Above, tangled electric wires trace across a smoke-laced sky like memory’s nervous system. The brushwork is urgent yet soft, as if this moment were glimpsed in a dream and half-lost upon waking. There is no figure, yet the scene hums with human absence. The balconies, the poles, the morning light—they all remember something. Not a story, but a feeling. Perhaps it was a parting. Or simply a life once lived here, quietly and completely.