[Temporary Shelter]

The sea used to be the source of my fear - when I was a child, I would always tell my mother before going to bed not to fall into the sea. That boundless vastness, the bottomless darkness, and the uncontrollable sense of being swallowed were the places I feared most when I was young. When I grew up and tried to confront it again amid the fatigue and dizziness of adulthood, my memory underwent a wonderful replacement. I took pictures of the seaside that I was most afraid of since childhood. But when I reflected on all my childhood behaviors from an adult's perspective, it seemed like a kind of haven. I blurred the rugged boundaries of the waves, crushing the once suffocating vastness into a flowing, viscous liquid.

These images are a delayed projection of my childhood memories.

In these photos, I took advantage of physiological sensory malfunctions, such as the double images and dazzling light spots that appeared in my field of vision when I had a high fever as a child. At the same time, many scenes from daily life were also captured, such as the bathroom, the corner of the bedroom, and the light seen when looking up while driving or taking a walk, all of which were transformed into the most private and safest refuge in memory. Here, clarity is a kind of aggressive truth, while vagueness is the psychological haven I have constructed.

This series of images documents how the senses tame fear by distorting reality. In these out-of-focus photos, the sea is no longer the terrifying outside world; it has become a part of my body, still warm and undulating in silence.