As various forces such as disembedding, cultural shifts, scientific advancements, technology, and capitalism continue to shape modern life, society increasingly prioritizes mobility and flexibility. This shift has eroded the stable frameworks that once provided security, resulting in a widespread sense of instability. The phenomenon of “rootlessness” has become more prevalent, evolving into a state of detachment from traditional societal structures. In such a fluid world, some important questions arise: where do we belong? What is the purpose of our existence? While reflecting on these questions, Zygmunt Bauman's Liquid Modernity has provided me with much inspiration: “The task confronting free individuals was to use their new freedom to find the appropriate niche and to settle there through conformity: by faithfully following the rules and modes of conduct identified as right and proper for the location” (1). Every stage of my life, especially during my time as a student, has been limited by a fixed timeline, as both individuals and society are constantly in flux. While liquid modernity offers more choices, this freedom comes with greater uncertainty and insecurity. As each stage nears its end, I still find myself filled with confusion and anxiety about the future. In a constantly changing environment, people are forced to seek meaning and belonging, but each choice only leads to a new cycle. For this reason, I do not view this freedom as entirely positive. Questions like “What identity should I adopt?” and “Is my current place suitable for settling down?” remain unanswered. The seemingly fixed rules in today’s society are always short-lived, ready to be broken at any moment. Now, as I approach graduation, I find myself losing the structured timeline provided by education. Entering the workforce means stepping into a world without the relatively “solid” frameworks I once relied on. This also means I must take full responsibility for my decisions and their consequences. In this context, my identity has shifted from that of a “recipient” to a “responsible agent.” “In the fluid modern life... the destinations reached by people on the move are neither necessarily fixed nor particularly enticing. People cannot stop and settle, they cannot ' The world, as it appears to them, offers no place to hide or rest.” (2) In today’s time-intensive and space-constrained environment, fragmented thinking and undefined states reflect the reality of many contemporary individuals, which deeply resonates with my personal experiences. Through critical analysis, Bauman reveals that while liquid modernity brings freedom and choice, it also leaves individuals feeling more isolated, anxious, and disconnected. It is a reality we must confront, and it helps me forge a more authentic and enduring connection with myself. Therefore, I need to reflect and explore how to reconstruct meaning and a sense of belonging, and most importantly, to adapt and find a balance in such an era of fluidity.
One day, as I looked at the plants in my home, I couldn’t help but wonder: do plants experience feelings? Do they have a sense of belonging? Are they also being impacted mentally by the current society? My curiosity led me to research, and I discovered that plants do not have nervous systems or brains, and thus, they do not experience emotions as humans or animals do. As scientists note, “They can effectively defend themselves against harm without experiencing unpleasant feelings of physical agony.” (3) The behaviors we observe in plants are not the result of conscious emotional experiences but are driven by complex biochemical processes. In other words, plants are unaware of whether they belong to anything. I admire this state of unconsciousness. In today's fluid era, many things lack a definitive and fixed answer. Perhaps letting go of limitations, breaking free from the confines of selfhood and anthropocentrism, and noticing the overlooked things around us is what we ought to do in this time. And plants are often considered "lifeless entities" or "non-intelligent beings," which positions them as the "other" in contrast to the human-centered notion of the "self." This "otherness," a concept explored in Giovanni Aloi's Why Look at Plants? The Botanical Emergence in Contemporary Art, describes how certain entities or groups are framed as "non-subjects" or "non-self" within dominant cultural narratives. In both art and philosophy, this "otherness" has marginalized plants, leading to a neglect of their significance as independent, living beings. "The rootedness of plants situates them as static witnesses to human activity, often overlooked." (4) This neglect is rooted in "plant blindness," a term Aloi uses to describe our cultural and historical inability to perceive plants beyond reductive frameworks. Plants are often seen as static, emotionless, and subordinate "background entities," a bias that not only limits our recognition of their importance but also contributes to the ecological crises we face. Breaking free from plant blindness is critical in an era of environmental urgency. Plants are not only central to the stability of natural ecosystems but also indispensable to human survival and the sustainability of our societies. "The silence of plants amplifies their mysterious and elusive nature, further distancing them from human understanding." (5) Plants operate in a state devoid of mental and emotional turmoil, responding instinctively to their surroundings without the burden of conscious thought or emotional distress and experiencing the psychological burdens that humans face in today's ever-shifting society. I hope that I can be like plants, free from mental constraints and psychological burdens, growing more freely.
My work is a tangible expression of my observations of contemporary society and my inner emotions. In this era of constant change and uncertainty, everyone is striving to find their place, and my creations emerge from this context. They serve as a way for me to engage in a dialogue with the world while continually examining and understanding myself. I choose plants as the core element of my work because of their resilience in the face of adversity. I see a deep connection between the adaptability of plants and the fluidity of modernity. In ever-changing environments, plants demonstrate remarkable adaptability: they cannot choose where to grow, yet they adjust to various complex conditions. Just as plants take root and thrive amidst storms, people in modern society continually adapt to technological advancements, cultural integration, and the shifts brought by globalization. Like plants, individuals must quickly adjust their behaviors and strategies, making adaptability a crucial skill. In a sense, I see myself as a plant, learning to root myself in uncertainty and finding a sense of balance.
It is worth noting that I do not choose specific plant species as the subjects of my paintings. Instead, I prefer to rely on my first instincts, allowing the diversity of plants to unfold naturally without limitations or definitions. Thus, I feel a strong sense of connection with Yoko Matsumoto, one of the major Japanese abstract artists. She draws inspiration from natural elements such as water, light, and wind, and similarly presenting them in an intuitive and meditative manner. Her art reflects a subconscious spiritual power, which she describes by saying, "Since I paint with the work lying on the floor, my sweat is constantly dripping on it. It’s manual labor, pure and simple, with no time to question. The work doesn’t allow me to think, and with no time to think I become one with the painting." (6) In my own creative process, I find myself in a similar unconscious state, which is something I have always sought to achieve.
Photography: taken at Victoria Embankment
Photography: taken in Bali
In my work When It Soaks My Veins, I stopped hiding and forcing myself, allowing the composition to become more open and expansive. I began to subtly convey my inner feelings in my own way, continuously deconstructing the original image of the plants. This process symbolized my internal struggles and the gradual dismantling of excessive self-defense mechanisms. Plants evolved from being mere "mediums" to becoming "listeners," with each painting serving as an outlet for my emotions toward plants and nature. The brushstrokes became more open and extended, which alleviated the mental tension I once felt. Inspired by Yoko, I first freely sprinkle acrylic paint onto the canvas, lifting and shaking it to allow the paint to flow naturally and form varied trails and patterns. I use these unintended lines and colors as a foundation for further creation, layering oil paint on top and integrating fragmented botanical shapes to reflect my multi-layered emotions. I found myself more relaxed in controlling the painting, no longer pushing every detail to the extreme. This shift might stem from a change in my mindset, influencing the overall presentation of the piece.
Yoko Matsumoto painting
In addition to the inspiration drawn from natural elements, I have also found influence in the works of Michael Ho and Vivien Zhang, which have helped me further develop my exploration of identity and culture. As a second-generation Chinese immigrant, Michael Ho examines the complexities of identity and cultural hybridity, presenting visual ambiguity and contradictions. He developed a technique of working from the back of the canvas, squeezing paint to create abstract textures, and then painting precise images on the front. This interplay of positive and negative space reflects the duality of identity, prompting me to consider how the fusion of abstraction and representation can convey emotions and concepts in my own work. In contrast, Vivien Zhang's works are rooted in her multicultural background and critique the fragmentation of information and visual saturation in the digital age. By layering and reorganizing cultural symbols—from traditional Chinese patterns to African totems and Western modern designs—she constructs complex visual compositions. Her intuitive and experimental approach transforms repetitive actions into a physical expression of absorbing information. This combination of logic and openness inspires me to rethink my creative structure, allowing my work to more effectively express diversity and complexity. By integrating the symbolic meaning of plants and the inspiration drawn from these artists, I aim to explore the dynamic changes individuals experience in an ever-evolving social landscape and to engage in dialogue with the world through an open and diverse visual language.
Michael Ho
The Origin of the World
2023
Vivien Zhang
Geocurrent
2023
In my work, another important visual element is the transparent layer that drapes over and weaves through the plants. This veil serves as a fluid and ambiguous symbol, representing the impact of contemporary society on individuals. The rapid pace of societal change and the overwhelming flow of information often leave us feeling wrapped in layers of external interference. This influence is both a constraint and a form of protection, much like the veil, which partially obscures the plants without entirely concealing their true essence. The veil also reflects the delicate nature of human relationships. In modern society, our connections with others are often layered by social norms, cultural differences, or personal experiences. These semi-transparent barriers prevent us from fully seeing each other, yet they preserve a glimpse of authenticity. Through these “obscured yet partially visible” symbolic elements, I aim to provoke the audience to reflect on these invisible barriers. No matter how complex and turbulent the external environment may be, I wish everyone can, like plants, root themselves in their own soil, finding their place and meaning. I strive to capture the strength within fragility through imagery, color, and composition, reflecting my own personality and life experiences. In this process, I engage in a dialogue with myself, gradually learning to embrace my imperfections. The plants beneath the translucent veil are far from lifeless; they retain a vibrant life force under their delicate cover. This mirrors my aspiration for myself: to adapt and find a resilient balance within, no matter how the external world changes.
While visiting White Cube last year, I encountered the work of Julie Mehretu, a highly regarded contemporary artist. Her pieces were displayed in a non-traditional arrangement, facing different directions in a seemingly chaotic manner. The translucent acrylic panels and blurred visuals in her paintings also have a strong connection to my work. They appeared to be engaged in a dialogue with one another, while also resembling an introspective monologue. Mehretu’s work seeks to explore the accumulation of history and the individual’s response to sociopolitical changes. Using painting and printmaking, she captures the shifting dynamics of contemporary society, reflecting on globalization, migration, and power structures. Her work is not merely an abstract interpretation of the real world but also a profound reflection on human experience and collective memory. Mehretu often layers multiple transparent acrylic coats on her canvases, each containing distinct marks and patterns. These layers drawn with tools like pencils, pens, and ink build a complex visual narrative. In her process, she uses an airbrush to blur parts of the imagery, a technique she refers to as “melting” the image. This approach involves smudging, erasing, and overlaying marks, creating a foundation for subsequent layers. The method symbolizes the layered nature of history and memory, offering multiple interpretations of reality while expressing her personal response to contemporary events. Her works frequently incorporate abstract representations of natural disasters, crises, or topographical forms, reflecting on global issues. Additionally, her compositions often feature significant negative space or thin, translucent base layers. Despite the heavy brushstrokes layered on top, the viewer can still discern the faint, blurred colors beneath. The energy in her use of color and composition taught me how to convey complex themes through multi-layered artistic techniques.
Julie Mehretu
TRANSpaintings (seat)
2023
Julie Mehretu
They departed for their own country another way
2023
Julie Mehretu
TRANSpaintings (hand)
2023
Additionally, elements of nature, especially plants, are often regarded as having healing and soothing properties. In The Nature Fix, Florence Williams presents scientific evidence that plants can have a therapeutic effect on people. She references research by Japanese physiological anthropologist Yoshifumi Miyazaki, who has studied the practice of "forest bathing." Williams notes that just 15 minutes of sitting in the woods or walking on trails can lead to significant positive physiological changes, such as lower blood pressure, improved respiration, reduced heart rate, and balanced hormone levels. This highlights how exposure to nature can have measurable health benefits. In my paintings, I aim to harness this natural healing power to create a space for relaxation and mental stress relief. The act of depicting plants becomes a meditative process, enabling me to channel their calming energy into my art.
It is also worth mentioning that photography plays a crucial role in my artistic process, as I believe it is perhaps the best way to capture specific moments. By freezing time through photography, I am able to focus on the intricate details and serene stillness of plants, which I then translate into my artwork. This method lays the foundation for my creative process, ensuring that the essence of the captured moment is preserved and conveyed on the canvas. In Karl Blossfeldt's photography collection Meisterwerke, he used a specially designed camera and exquisite photographic techniques to emphasize the rhythmic forms of flowers to an extreme, showcasing the unique and exotic characteristics of plants. He once said, "If I give someone a horsetail, he will have no difficulty making a photographic enlargement of it. Anyone can do that. But to observe it, to notice and discover old forms, is something only few are capable of." Through his works, I perceive the fleeting nature of time and the profound connection between humans and plants. Although these photographs are in black and white, lacking the vivid impact of plant colors, the enlarged compositions and intricate surface textures evoke an inexplicable sense of solemnity and distance. This may be the mystery of nature's grandeur—capturing the essence of life in its most raw and unembellished form. The rare and twisted forms of plants in Blossfeldt's photographs remind me of early portrait photography, where every detail is magnified and appreciated. The structure, branches, and leaves of the plants resemble our bones and limbs, while their fuzz and roots parallel the hair and veins on our bodies. This resemblance reveals the integration and commonality between humans and nature, emphasizing the interconnectedness of all living beings. In my painting Wandering in Her Tenderness I & II, I magnified a tiny plant on the canvas, meticulously depicting its roots, textures, and the subtle colors hidden within its petals. By capturing the transient colors of the scene, I highlighted a still state of growth, free from mental control, inviting viewers to appreciate the delicate beauty and tranquility of nature.
Karl Blossfeldt: Meisterwerke
Wandering in Her Tenderness II
Wandering in Her Tenderness I
I see the exploration of plants and my own state of mind as an ongoing journey. Looking ahead, I expect my painting to evolve alongside my emotional and psychological shifts. As I navigate different phases of life, the changes in my inner world will naturally be reflected in my art. This dynamic connection between my mental state and artistic expression will ensure that my work remains a living reflection of my personal growth. Each painting will act as a snapshot of my emotional and psychological journey, offering viewers a glimpse into my evolving perspective. The plants in my artwork will continue to serve as mirrors of my inner world, capturing moments of tranquility, conflict, and transformation. This dialogue between nature and self will not only provide a therapeutic outlet but also deepen my understanding of the path I’m on. Through this ongoing exploration, I hope to inspire others to contemplate their own emotional landscapes and find comfort in the beauty of the natural world.
Details of transparent layers in my works
Living Outside the Box - A Journey of Self-reflection
New works in progress
Me working in studio
Bibliography
(1) Bauman, Zygmunt. Liquid Modernity. Cambridge: Polity Press, 2000. p. 13.
(2) Bauman, Zygmunt. Liquid Modernity. Cambridge: Polity Press, 2000. p. 34.
(3) Millstein, Seth. "Do Plants Feel Pain? No, and Here’s How Scientists Know." Sentient Media, 16 Feb. 2024, https://sentientmedia.org/do-plants-feel-pain/.
(4) Aloi, Giovanni. Why Look at Plants? The Botanical Emergence in Contemporary Art. Durham: Duke University Press, 2019. p. 187.
(5) Aloi, Giovanni. Why Look at Plants? The Botanical Emergence in Contemporary Art. Durham: Duke University Press, 2019. p. 126.
(6) White Cube. "Yoko Matsumoto, Mason's Yard." White Cube, 2024, https://www.whitecube.com/gallery-exhibitions/yoko-matsumoto-masons-yard-2024.