• Model trained for the bone flute dance(based on openpose) & Modified version of Ai story machine triggered by infrared distance

                                 

             

• Automatic bone flute (steering gear powered by ai)

 
               

• Leg and chest mixture human flesh ball 3d modeling

       

                           


Fuck....until it gets fuzzy      2023

Disenchantment/reenchantment    2024

The Dialogue   2024

Projects

  She Blooms In The Morning
     2024  sound installation

In my childhood neighborhood, the madwoman who had been politically persecuted during the Chinese Cultural Revolution passed away. For nearly 40 years, every day at sunrise, upon seeing the color red or hearing any propaganda news from the radio, she would frantically rush out of her home, directing her desperate curses at the sun, which had once been seen as a totem of salvation, again and again: "Reject! Reject! Reject everything! You will hurt me! Get out! Get out!..." Subsequently, she was forcibly dragged back by the community administrator time and again, and this scene was like a recurring nightmare, etched into the collective memory of the community's mornings.

In that era, the people were likened to sunflowers, always facing the political leaders symbolizing light—the sun. Therefore, I collected the broken recordings of this woman from the past and created a sunflower-shaped solar-powered sound device. I placed the device in the neighborhood where she had been deprived of her freedom. When the sun rose, it mechanically turned towards the light, forming a kind of ironic technical performance: the energy source of ideology (the sun) was transformed into the power to activate critical voices. As the light grew stronger, the suppressed accusations became sharper, questioning the sun that had burned her. If someone leaned in to listen to her words, her voice would shift from frantic shouts to the steady breath of a woman. It was as if, in the gaps of lies, the individual's desire for truth and tranquility had never truly been extinguished; this too was a cycle—from shouting to silence, from public to private.

In this public space where the historical scars are repeatedly enacted under the sunlight, the woman's voice becomes a "trace," transforming her absence into a ghostly presence. The work reactivates historical memory, forcing the audience to confront the specter of political violence. It creates interference in the high-definition contemporary political landscape through low-resolution technological remnants. It is both a testimony to specific historical traumas and a questioning of the enduring power structures. It allows the voices of the forgotten to gain new materiality and permanence within the technological cycle.


At this moment, the cycle is no longer just a symbol of oppression but becomes a technical strategy of resistance against forgetting: the suppressed voices do not disappear; they continue to resonate in ghostly forms, interrupting the fictional continuity of linear history.

Hundred Flowers

"Let a hundred flowers bloom," a political promise from China's Mao era that ultimately failed, now circulates as a metaphor suspended between promise and betrayal. It reveals the eternal paradox of power dynamics: while discourse invites all things to grow, actions sharpen the tools of repression. However, true vitality has never ceased to blossom; it silently refuses to be defined by a singular history in the gaps of the official narrative.

Inspired by this, I studied the global movements since 1900 that have used flowers as spiritual symbols. The collective memory of these movements has been transformed into a poetic material archive: hundreds of white porcelain petals of various shapes. Each petal represents a specific struggle or vision, forming a micro-resistance against enforced homogenization through its uniqueness. In the high-temperature kiln of 1300 degrees, these petals undergo a dialectical transformation of matter: on the brink of near destruction, they are endowed with an eternal form, symbolizing the fragility and resilience of the movements they represent.

This white is not void; it is filled with the potential state of all possibilities. It is both a silent rejection of enforced expression and a blank waiting for a future that has yet to arrive.

In an era where even resistance can be quickly commodified, these silent objects, with their pure physical presence, attempt to redefine the boundaries of politics. They prompt us to seek out the habitats of those repressed possibilities—habitats that may not lie in the clamor of discourse, but in the enduring resilience of matter. These white porcelain flowers quietly wait, hoping for a season when the political vitality of flowers no longer requires any ideological defense and can bloom freely.

Fuck.....until it  gets fuzzy 

She's a ball that makes sounds with the appearance of my skin texture, and she’ s been on two journeys.

1: Be thrown into a fenced-in area and telling my sexual fantasy about that scene, i.e. imagining me doing something there, with a camera recording the process remotely until she was taken away by the security guard.

2: Be thrown into a public area and telling of my fantasy about that scene, i.e. imagining what I did there. I recorded this process with a monitor in hand until my balls leaked.

Either way, she's trying to go wherever she wants, she doesn't give a shit, it's like she just showed up here out of nowhere .....

                 
                                                                                                             A hybrid image of my chest and leg skin                                                                                                 The security guard kicked the ball down


Video  Part

                                                                                                             

Fuck···until it gets foggy

SCREENSHOT

Lend  me your  body

In my hometown, there is a lake where, 9,000 years ago, there was a tribe that worshipped the bird god. The shamans of the tribe made flutes from crane bones, and during sacrificial ceremonies, the sounds of these flutes were believed to communicate with the divine. However, the flute player was beheaded, and the loss of their subjectivity points to a kind of sacrifice, a longing for unity with transcendent powers. This ancient mystery resonates with Friedrich Kittler's assertion that media technology precedes and defines the subject. Whether it is the headless flute player—whose individual consciousness may have become secondary in the operation of the ritual medium—or today's AI black box—operating autonomously through its own algorithmic logic—both vividly reflect how subjectivity has been historically shaped, and even suspended, under different technological apparatuses.

I made a bone flute from the bones of a natural-death vulture, which is believed to summon the souls of the deceased in the Tibetan sky burial ritual, and used machine learning based on openpose to recognize the emotions behind the dancers' movements, providing automatic accompaniment for the dancers. The dancers and the invisible musicians merge in a mutual "contamination."

Large language models "devour" the texts, images, and sounds of human civilization, digesting billions of sentences, stories, and dialogues. This data is not just abstract information; it is a container of countless authors' thoughts, experiences, and emotions. When the flute sounds driven by it resonate, does it also, like that vulture bone, in some way "summon" the "souls" of the countless voices it has digested in its lifetime?

The Petrified Tree

My creation began with an unexpected personal experience: a chance encounter with a bird a few years ago made me a "medium." In the process of handling cases through the medium of language, I personally experienced a vortex that symbolizes power: the seekers view my narrative as "truth," while I cautiously realize the illusory nature of language itself—it not only shapes individual cognition but can also construct group identity, and has even been used in history for pre-war mobilization (such as religious poetry). This prompted me to reflect: is the narrative we rely on quietly eroding our more authentic and direct connection to the world?

In an era where technology accelerates narrative, large language models push this dilemma to the extreme, weaving a "hyperreality" composed of ghostly representations. Technology itself always possesses the duality of "pharmakon": it is both healing and poison, both externalizing memory and alienating perception. From text to algorithms, technological systems, while empowering us, may also lead us down new paths of confusion.

My installation work directly confronts this paradox of technology (as medicine) and recontextualizes a universal symbol in world religions—the tree and the snake. An AI-driven, repurposed storytelling machine becomes the core "narrator."

In the installation part: the audience's approach triggers an unsettling vibration emitted by an invisible "snake" in the ravine at the base of the tree (the main body of the installation). At this moment, the AI sound device, wrapped in human skin-textured leather and bird feathers (located on the tree), begins to randomly generate and narrate fragments of religious or mythological stories, attempting to soothe this "snake," which symbolizes primal unease or the unencoded. Meanwhile, black liquid within the installation slowly drips down, gradually filling the ravine. As the narrative becomes increasingly coherent (from fragmented to complete), the vibration of the "snake" tends to calm down.

In the VR section: the audience is invited to play the role of a "snake" that lacks a sense of security. In a completely dark virtual scene, the only goal of the "snake" is to find and approach a "tree" that continuously drips glowing liquid and tells a story. As the "snake" gets closer and the story unfolds, the darkness is gradually replaced by light. This is not a light of enlightenment, but rather a metaphor for a more sinister cognitive state in the digital age: the complete coverage of light (symbolizing information, data, representation) over darkness (symbolizing the unknown, silence, materiality). This does not bring truth, but symbolizes the ultimate victory of illusion over reality, and the thorough colonization of material reality by the system of representation.

The work ultimately poses a critical question about existence itself: when algorithms (AI) are injected into reality as the ultimate "pharmakon," does the promised infinite coherence and deep comfort come at the cost of erasing all roughness, randomness, and the incommensurable? Are we irrevocably welded into a self-referential, unfalsifiable code dream? Are we embracing an increasingly refined and perfect, yet ultimately hollow "hyperreality" at the expense of the richness and complexity of existence itself—one where even the "snake's" instinctive unease is smoothed over by algorithms, yet we can no longer touch the solid sensation of the earth?

 VR Part

The Field      2025   performance

The starting point of this work stems from a specific doctrine: under certain conditions, strong emotional energies can accumulate and coalesce in space to form a unique energy field or ambient imprint.

The performance takes place in an abandoned rough house. The five performers engage in five extreme physical actions: laughter, crying, rage, masturbation, and vomiting, until they all reach a state of exhaustion. The performance was an "emotional séance" in which each participant went into a trance at the limits of their bodies, their behavior transcending mere performance or catharsis. They not only injected this intense emotional energy into the space in a theoretical sense, but also on a physical and symbolic level, giving "thickness" to the empty house, which has never really been inhabited.

The core of the work is to inquire into the deep and hidden connection between extreme bodily experiences and specific spaces. These exhaustive emotional and physical performances are not merely closed internal experiences, but are intertwined and interpenetrated processes between the body and the world, the inner and the outer. In this space, which is originally almost empty and full of potentiality, the extreme state of the body acts directly on the environment, infusing it with an invisible corporeality or perceptible density, as if generating an invisible sculpture.

In the end, space is no longer just a passive background for events. It is drenched and permeated by strong physical expression, becoming "thick" and full of tension, transforming into an invisible archive of energy that carries extreme life experiences.

                               






                 

                                                                                         


                   

  
The Rose and The Stinky Pool

2024 archive, scent installation

Over a hundred years ago, a missionary couple, Andrew Thomson and Margaret Thomson, came to Huaxian, Henan Province, China with a mission. They brought rose seeds and planted them by the local stinking pond, trying to "purify" the rot with the fragrance of roses. Here, the roses relied on the sludge for nourishment, creating a paradoxical symbiosis between fragrance and foulness. These roses withstood the subsequent upheavals and still bloom on the land today.

Does the sweet fragrance of the Irish rose truly offset the stench of the pond? Or is it drowned out by the latter? My field research found that the locals' most profound collective memory of these roses is not the flowers themselves, but the unique sweet aroma of the rose candy made from them. This olfactory memory becomes a sensory clue connecting individuals to grand history, while also reflecting the complex contradictions of modernity: how the processes of industrialization, public health movements, and ever-changing political discourses reshape people's perceptions, classifications, and value judgments of smells. In the sensory order of modernity, who ultimately defines what is "fragrant" and what is "filthy"?

To explore the invisible power mechanisms and historical layers behind the olfactory landscape, I embarked on a "smell archaeology." Starting with the remaining Thomson roses in Huaxian and their associated memories of rose candy, I combined historical archives of missionaries in northern Henan with clues from the "olfactory landscape" during the same period of social and political changes in China. I attempted to trace how smells are perceived, governed, and the power relations hidden behind them. During this process, I also obtained a vinyl record themed around roses, released in the same year as China's reform and opening up. Ultimately, I used the audio from this record, which carries the imprint of a specific era, along with rose essence collected or formulated locally in Huaxian, to create an olfactory sound installation. I placed this installation next to a (symbolic or real) stinking pond in Huaxian and held a "deodorization ceremony."

When the carefully formulated sweet fragrance of roses, accompanied by melodies from a specific era, wafts and swirls above the decaying stench, what we experience is purification or another form of concealment? Is it a symbol of redemption or the taming of power? If smells are the invisible boundaries delineated by social power, do those defined as out of place and expelled still silently ferment and whisper in some forgotten corner?

Grasp  It
2024  sound installation