text by Chen Hui-Chiao
It is curious how sometimes the memory of death,
Lives on for so much longer than the memory of the life that it purloined.
It was a time when the unthinkable became thinkable,
And the impossible really happened. 1
Time, is a far away and personal dream,
Smell like old roses on a breeze.
Most mysterious obscure things, twined with sexual desire, Eros and death;
And, some things are deep buried out of sight, beneath the lost horizon.
Edges, Borders, Boundaries, Brinks and Limits…
At the muddled consciousness of the terminal...
There exist some simple, yet perfect shapes, a sphere, circle, and line.
These are the geometry shapes of passion.
(Statement for the Solo Exhibition at Main Trend Gallery, Taipei 2011.08.20-10.15)
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1. See Arundhati Roy, 1997 “The God of Small Things” Reading group guide copyright, 2008 by Random Harcourt, Inc. |
