Book - Nostalgia

Why do people feel nostalgia for architectures and landscapes they have never seen?

The original appearance and function of these places, rooted in the past, have long withered with time. People feel sorrow for ancient temples that no longer host rituals and lament the desolation of abandoned castles. Even the hardest granite and marble will eventually crumble into ruins. This melancholic sentiment reminds us of the helplessness of life in the face of time.

Everything is in constant change; every object begins losing its original essence the moment it is created. I keep questioning myself: in this age of overwhelming images and documentation, what is the point of pointing my camera at things that have already been photographed millions of times?

All photographs, like the scenes before my eyes, will eventually fade into quiet oblivion. Even my current nostalgia and emotions are destined to meet the same fate. Memories are fragmented; they are impressions, far removed from reality. They are interwoven with too much personal emotion—blurred, ambiguous, and brimming with nostalgia. Forgetting is a human nature. I take these photos because, in the end, I will forget—just as the original forms of those forgotten landscapes have been lost. It seems that everything we do is a ritual of forgetting. Yet, forgotten landscapes will always resurface at unexpected moments, and for a fleeting instant, we will relive the past once more. We should, like Impressionist painters, embrace this blurriness and ambiguity—blur out those modern people in their identical, unattractive attire, erase their unremarkable faces. Strip the present scene of its temporal constraints so that it may exist in any era.

Photography is a form of worship toward time. I raise my staff, recording the songs and dances before me. This blurriness and ambiguity have nothing to do with reality, but sometimes they feel more real than reality itself, occupying an unshakable place in the mind.

Through these photos, I will sing and dance again and again.