We have a history once grand but not forgotten. Time washes away the insignificant pieces and also permanently marks the milestones. A pat romance, the memories worshipped with deep passion as the colors of the past fade. The storms and lightening of history leave us their marks of divine madness and violence. Let us stand back and observe it, grasp it and sense it …the magnificence, power and charm, dignity and mystery…
In my mind, a painting is nothing more than a painting itself. I would prefer to say that I am more of a poet. It's a touch of loneliness and helplessness. Try to hear it and feel it … it is absolute beauty, but unspeakable melancholy, unstoppable, overflowing out of the ruins of the looming Beijing City, the darkness and the mist.