In ancient times people built peculiar street pattern like a labyrinth to confuse the invaders. Veneziaâ€™s maze of narrow streets has the same effect to deter the modern day tourists, but only to a certain degree. Global warming and the growing tourism are both sinking the islands on different levels. Itâ€™s only during the wee hours that one can start to feel the heartbeat of the old city when it resurfaces from a cloud of perfume. And to me, this bridge represents the heart of the city. No one seems to know which backstreets connect to either end of it. No gondola glides beneath it. The bridge seems so exposed yet private, so close yet so far. I donâ€™t know how many true Venetians still inhabit the city, but I imagine thereâ€™s one of them guarding this bridge like the oldest and fondest memory.
I am constantly searching for the next landscape. A landscape in the mist, with a slight scent of vanilla permeating the warm, sea-moistened air; the first light of summer burning off the snow on top of the craggy peaks, while down below the alpine lake reflection screaming to become the reality; an ocean as violent as the breaking-loose hell during a winter storm, followed by the midnight snow peacefully falling and disappearing into the darkest waveâ€¦ Some of these I have seen, some only in dream, and some even beyond my wildest imagination. To realize the dream, I travelled. After travelling for years, it grows on me that the meaning of my journey is to revisit a place â€“ to see what has been changed there, and to learn what has been changed inside me. I see things differently through different lights, colors, moods, and ages. Making images in different states of mind enables me to explore myself in various ways. And the more I explore myself, the more I am inspired by the outside world. I hope my work encourages people to explore their outer as well as inner landscapes. Â