My hometown is located in a city in Northeastern China famous for coal production. Since I was little, I have known there were people mining coal under the city, and I have always tried to imagine that space – invisible but present. Gradually, I realized that spaces could be divided.

My father passed away when I was in high school. Chinese people believe that the soul of the deceased will come back home on the seventh day of death to bid farewell, so family members should prepare the person’s favorite meals to see him/her off. After midnight on that day, I found the tableware prepared for my father showed signs of being moved, which made me believe he was still here, but it was just that the space he used to live in with us together had changed.

I majored in sculpture in college. I found that the process of making a mold for a sculpture actually transformed the volume that once occupied a real space was a then a nihilistic space; like folded hands, there's a space in the middle, but if you open your hands, this space will disappear. It once existed but no longer does, made by a real surface and the nihility of the inner space. These experiences made me interested in real space and empty space. The exploration is rooted from human instinct.