Some Thoughts On My Creations – Zhou Jin Hua

I sit across from my computer wanting to write something, but I suddenly realize that I’m at a loss for words. There are so many things that I want to say, but I don’t know where or how to begin. It’s like being in a dream, you can’t speak and you can’t move. In the end, I just want to write down some of my random, everyday thoughts arising from my creative process. These thoughts don’t have any definite connections to each other; they couldn’t form an essay and some are just my feelings. They have no real significance. I want to display my thoughts honestly and, to do this, I will attempt to communicate my state of being.

Some Thoughts On My Creations – Zhou Jin Hua

    I sit across from my computer wanting to write something, but I suddenly realize that I’m at a loss for words. There are so many things that I want to say, but I don’t know where or how to begin. It’s like being in a dream, you can’t speak and you can’t move. In the end, I just want to write down some of my random, everyday thoughts arising from my creative process. These thoughts don’t have any definite connections to each other; they couldn’t form an essay and some are just my feelings. They have no real significance. I want to display my thoughts honestly and, to do this, I will attempt to communicate my state of being.
    The process of creation is a painful one because I always look at my work and find something in it that leaves me dissatisfied. Perhaps my personal expectations surpass my abilities; maybe I just can’t get on with myself, which is something that depresses me.
    After graduation, I began doing some observational studies from high spaces. After my eyes leave the flat surface of the floor at a height of above five feet or so, I am pulled out of reality. What remains is the void; everything below eye-level becomes incongruous.
While in high places, I begin to ponder the relationship between the individual and the collective. The strength of the collective spirit and the weak consciousness of the individual made me feel that I was powerless and meek and, as such, my pessimism was born out of this contravention. I therefore created the series of works entitled, “We.”
     I often feel the absurdity of my everyday life, and my hopes are dashed with the same regularity as day turns into night; this process seems continuous and without pause.
    I like the purity I gain from being in high-up places; the brisk, fresh air relaxes the binds of reality in my body.
    An endlessly working machine is flexible and strong; it works to the point that I suspect it becomes a kind of monster. I stand on the top of the building for extended lengths, inspecting its movements, but I still haven’t determined, in all this business, what its purpose is.
    According to the principles of the Yi Ching, the world’s material things are all separated into the Yin and Yang extremes. In our collective conscious, if you can see the Yang (the so-called reality), then you can see the Yin as well (the so-called absurd). When combined, the disparity between Yin and Yang blurs “reality” and “absurdity,” and distance also confuses the two. Standing up at a very high height, looking down on the world, you realize that perhaps reality is exactly the absurd.